#we have more pressing issues and their weight in her bag at her hip is a terrible distraction

[silversiren1101]

My halfling witch found her parents after 30 years today :) She'd been found alone on a trail covered in blood as a baby with her familiar, her parents missing.

And now their heads are in her bag. Because that's all they were. Heads.

:)

[bobawitch]

Neon Orange | C.S.

summary: reader dyes her hair orange for the versus tour and to support her boyfriend chris

cw: just fluff <3

wc: 906

a/n: this is shorter than a lot of my fics and idk how much i like it but i wanted to write smthing for chris since he won 🧡🧡🧡 matt fic coming soon 😇

You had been dating Chris for almost a year, and it had been the best year of your life. The two of you started as just friends but eventually began hanging out more and more often and eventually on a late night you two kissed. It was history after that kiss, feelings came out and you both began dating. Though you and Chris had to work up to it with his commitment issues. Now you were sitting on his bed waiting for him to get out of the shower so you could use the bathroom for dyeing your hair. You decided to go orange to support him in the verses tour and to welcome in the fall. Chris soon walked out in some sweats and smiled at you, walking over and climbing onto the bed, resting his head on your stomach. You chuckled after making a big huff from the weight now on you. “Hey baby, you have a good shower?” He hummed before pulling your hoodie up a little and kissing your stomach. “Yeah, it was really nice.” You giggled, playing with strands of wet hair. “That's good. Hey baby I’m gonna dye my hair so I need you to get up.” Chris groaned and held your torso tighter, you huffed again before picking up his face. “Baby I’m serious. We can cuddle once I’m done with my hair.” Chris mumbled something before leaning up and kissing you. Once you were off the bed you grabbed your sally beauty bag. Chris slowly got up from the bed to follow you into the bathroom as you switched your hoodie for a dirty shirt. You began to set up your hair dyeing station, glancing at Chris sitting on the floor. You smiled down at your now sleepy boyfriend who has now scooted over to you to lean on your leg. You put the dye in the bowl and grab the brush. You slowly began to coat your hair with the hair dye, making sure there’s a lot of product on each section. Chris looked up at you and smiled. “Are you doing orange?” You nodded, smiling a little. You had realized that you didn’t tell him your plan. “That’s cute, though you’ll be a ginger.” Chris teased and your eyes instinctively rolled. 

After around 30 minutes you finished coating your hair in the dye. Chris eventually got bored and went to grab you both snacks while you cleaned up your mess. When Chris got back he giggled at your appearance. “You look like a neon orange egg.” Your jaw dropped and you scoffed. “Looks like you’re in love with an orange egg then.” You teased, shrugging your shoulders as you moved out of the bathroom. Chris sat on the bed with a bag of chips and his signature pepsi. You moved towards him, causing him to bite his tongue. You could tell he was trying his best not to laugh in your face. You sighed and shook your head. “You can laugh, dork.” Chris smiled widely before bursting into laughter, setting his pepsi down so as not to spill. You shoved at his chest before smirking. You reached your hand into your wet hair and pulled back, looking at the neon orange dye that was on your fingers. You leaned towards Chris and wiped his nose with it. Chris’s laughter immediately stopped and he stared at you. He blinked a few times before sitting up fully. “You did not.” You smirked. “Oh but I did.” He stood up and walked to the bathroom staring in the mirror at his orange nose. “Bruh if this doesn’t come off you’re so dead.” You rolled your eyes with a small laugh before you walked into the bathroom with him. You grabbed one of the little wipes you had been using to clean up and wiped the orange off his nose. It was barely noticeable that the dye had been there in the first place. You threw away the wipe before looking at Chris. Chris had moved closer to you and was now pressing you to the counter. He smiled at you, both hands on either side of your hips. “You’re evil.” He gently whispered, his face inching ever closer to you. You rolled your eyes, setting your clean hands on his chest. “And you love it.” He smirked, tilting his head in a nod. “True.” He stated before planting a kiss on your lips.

~~~~

You had gone along on the tour, trying not to show yourself too often since his fans could get a little crazy. Though multiple fans in their various colors came up to you and asked for pictures or complimented your neon hair. But tonight was the last night of the tour, it was between Chris and Matt, Jenga holding suspense over the crowd. With Nate and Matt sizing the block tower up Nate made his move, taking the block out and stepping back. As he stepped back the blocks came crashing down and the crowd went ballistic. Chris had won and you got to watch from the sidelines. After the show you all piled into the bus, Chris following right after you and pulling you to his chest in a hug. “Congrats on winning babe.” Chris smiled, planting a kiss to your lips. “I couldn’t let my girl down when she dyed her hair for me.” You giggled and pulled him back into a deep kiss.

[hallowcked]

She wasn't the only one who was sore. It amazes even Tyler that his dick could still get hard. After they left Jake's party, he didn't think he would have sex again for at least a week. His balls were aching, his groin was pulled, and his cock felt beaten to death. Like he pushed it as far as it could go and the muscle was exhausted. Then one cute or dirty text from Brooke, and he was hard again. She was like a drug to him but, one he would never go to rehab for. He would let her destroy everything in his life just as long as he could end his nights beside her.

"I love you so much," the sight of her tears makes his heart swell. He knows they're happy tears, not ones of discomfort or sadness. Although...she might be a little uncomfortable as he sinks himself all the way until their hips were pressed together. He doesn't bother thrusting or pulling out and going back in, he just stays there buried in her warmth.

A ridiculous smile dances across his lips when she mentions his physique being bigger and stronger than it was last summer. They weren't weight-lifting in rehab. Their exercises were much lighter and had more to do with bettering the mind. Tyler's was more broken than anyone's so he spent most of his hours in therapy instead of the gym. Now that he was with the Vipers, he was whaling on a punching bag every day. Mostly because he was angry. "I missed you a lot. So I spent a lot of time in Eli's gym. It's good for my anger issues." He laughs above her mouth and uses his thumbs to tuck a few strands of hair behind her ears. "You're so beautiful." He leans in and kisses her lips before readjusting himself inside her. The small movement causes him to twitch.

"Yeah I remember that party." It was one of the nights Tyler couldn't come with her. He already moved to the southside and everyone hated him. She was still dating Jake at the time and they were meant to go together. That was the night Brooke broke their one rule. She wasn't supposed to have sex with anyone else but she did. Tyler tried to be understanding given their situation but he was still hurt. "Brooke, that's a real sex dungeon. Eli was into some kinky shit." He laughs and then buries his smile against her shoulder. But honestly, he wouldn't be opposed to using it with Brooke. There were things in there you could only find at some members-only sex shop. "We were taking a lot of ecstasy back then. I know for me, it made things more intense. But my thoughts were never altered. Everything we did together, it was real for me." The only thing he regrets, before everything else went to shit, was recording her without her permission. "I'm still sorry I made that video. I never wanted to hurt you."

Tyler's eyes were a lighter shade of hazel as he looks up from her shoulder and presses a kiss on the side of her neck. His hips were moving but only slightly, just enough to keep him from going flaccid. "I always wanted to spend more nights here. The idea of getting caught by your parents always excited me. I know its bad but, it's hot watching you do everything in your power to not make a sound. It's a fun challenge watching you get so overwhelmed and overstimulated." he sighs quietly and then begins brushing his fingers through her hair.

"My favorite memory of us?" There were so many, how could he choose one as his favorite? "Can I choose two? There's a tie." he continues stroking her hair while his gaze drifts off to the memory of France. "Taking your virginity. I wanted you for a long time. To finally get you, it was the best feeling ever." The second was getting tattoos. He'll never see the moon the same way again. "That's tied with us getting tattoos. I think I knew then that you really liked me. It solidified it. Because why else would you do something so permanent?" He had many tattoos but, every single one of them matters. You don't get a tattoo for a fling. "What's yours?"

"Say things like what?" She plays innocent but, she knows exactly what he means. The dirty talk always gets to him. Just as it does to her. Sometimes the filthy shit that comes out of his mouth is hotter than the act itself. Oh, who is she kidding? No it's not. It's equally erotic.

"I am sore," she tells him. But, that doesn't stop her from spreading her legs and encouraging him to slip between her soft folds which are aching to be near him. If Brooke could mold herself to his skin, she would. She's not sure how she's going to survive when they part. When he has to return to the real world, to the Vipers, and to whatever else he's managed to dip his hands into.

"You wear me out. But, I don't want you to stop." With him nestled inside of her, Brooke offers gentle thrusts. They're slow and sensual, just so she can get readjusted to his size again. Which no matter how many times they have sex - the length of him still stuns her. By now, you'd think she would've been stretched out enough to accommodate him fully. Her pussy was like a rubber band, though. The harder they stretched, the tighter it snapped back together.

"I love you so much." Tears well her eyes but they don't dare fall. The love she feels for him is overpowering and it hasn't gone away. If anything, it's only grown stronger in his absence from her life.

With her hands covering both sides of his neck, Brooke rubs the side with his tattoo using her thumb. She traces the ink before letting her palms slide down his shoulders and between their chests. Any excuse to feel him, or the ripples of muscle that have no doubt gotten tighter and harder since she last felt them, she took. "You've been working out a lot, haven't you?" She could always tell when he'd been to the gym. And now, that he was living in Eli's mansion - she was sure he had his own personal one in there somewhere.

Speaking of Eli's mansion.... Brooke recalls him saying something about the rooms and how some of them have been left unexplored. "Do you remember the night of the cops and robbers party?" Half of that night, Brooke has tried her best to forget. She's sure Tyler has too because, it was the same night Brooke had hatesex with Jake. "When you texted me to come over and told me to bring the handcuffs." Brooke bit her lip before her eyes wandered over to her bedside table. Inside the top drawer were those very, same handcuffs.

She wasn't going to pull them out now and she wouldn't let him do so either. Maybe another time. Because tonight, wasn't about exploring their kinks. They were supposed to be figuring things out. "We still have to have sex in his dungeon." They didn't get a chance to back then but, maybe now that Tyler had taken Eli's mansion over, they could have a redo.

Brooke would make sure to pencil that night in. "I can't believe my dad almost caught us." Brooke's thoughts were running a mile a minute, which explains her jumping from subject to subject without waiting for a response. She can't help it though, Tyler makes her nervous. He always has. But, it's the good kind of nervous. It's the school girl crush kind. Where everything she does, its for a purpose. It's to get him to like her and then fall in love with her. Even though, he already is.

"I know we have a lot to work out..." her stomach twists just thinking about all the subjects they haven't touched and she knows they should, and they need to. Like the one about Gage. But, Brooke wants to enjoy the moment for a little while longer. She wants to bask in the memories of them, not other people. "But, can I just say.... if this...." meaning today "... is what it's like to have sex with you in a bed. Why don't we do it more often?" Throughout their entire relationship, Brooke can't recall one time where they've made it to a bed. Normally they were too impatient. Whatever was within reach or accessible at the time, is what they went with.

Laughing, Brooke leans up to bury her face against Tyler's neck. She spays it with a few kisses while her legs wrap around his waist to keep him buried inside of her heat. Regardless of the stall in their thrusts. "What's your favorite memory from our relationship? Like, if you could pick any one of them to re-live again... which one would you choose?"

[kechiwrites]

spit or swallow

Dentist!Eijirou Kirishima x Patient!Reader

wc: 1.5k

“he works diligently above you, latex gloved hands occasionally brushing your nose, jaw and throat. He’s nothing less than gentle with you, angling your face where he needs it with feather soft touches and honey smooth direction.”

warnings: afab reader, fantasizing about your dentist, a lil bit of praise kink, biting, oral sex, size kink if you squint, swearing, dick slapping but like make it tender, we’re light on warnings today y’all, 18+ 

author’s notes: kirishima....thank u to my lovely betas @lady-bakuhoe​ and @rivendell101​ yes i kept the arm hair thing in, im a simp ♡.

There is absolutely nothing sexy about being a dentist. The visual of Dr. Kirishima up to his elbows in spit and god know what else is hardly erotic. But there’s very little you can do to stop the shivers that tingle down your spine at the sight of his bare forearms, revealed to you by the careful and precise folding of his doctor’s coat, dusted with fine black hair and corded with muscle when they reach over your face to adjust the light or peer at your x-rays. Your tongue is still thick and sweet in your mouth from the liquid he'd given to you in a little blue cup. The taste was just barely spearmint and you wish you could chase it with the sharp tang of his sweat. You wish you could wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to you, bite and kiss and suck at the skin under his jaw you're becoming so familiar with. You want to create a flush so deep you find it blooming over his skin when you undo the little white plastic buttons of his dress shirt.

While you're musing, he works diligently above you, latex gloved hands occasionally brushing your nose, jaw and throat. He’s nothing less than gentle with you, angling your face where he needs it with feather soft touches and honey smooth direction. You get the distinct impression he’s a mellow guy, tossing easy smiles to anyone who meets his eye and he certainly doesn’t seem very intimidating. Even still, you can't help but think about the stretch. There's not a doubt in your mind that Eijirou Kirishima D.D.S. is packing like he's on a two month vacation. His shoulders are impossibly broad and when he escorted you through the bleach white hallway all you could think of was letting him loom over you and drag the heavy weight of his weeping cock up and down the plush skin of your face. You wish he would push past the softness of your lips and urge your head further and further down his length until the tip of his dick touches your fucking brain. You want him to spread your pussy open between latex covered thumbs and bury his tongue in you, let his unnervingly sharp teeth catch the hood of your clit.

You want him to hurt you.

You’re lost in the visual of his hands around your throat when he calls your name, trying to get you to angle your chin just a bit further downward. When you finally comply, he whispers “Good girl” and it takes every single bit of your self restraint to stop yourself from whimpering at the image the phrase conjures. You screw your eyes shut and behind your lids, Dr. Kirishima is holding you against the padded chair by the back of your neck, sinking his teeth into the exposed skin of your shoulder, hip, thigh, leaving aching, perfect half circles in their wake. He keeps you in place with one hand, and presses his cock against the throbbing heat of your cunt, not quite hard enough to enter, not yet. Instead he’s content to tease you into begging for it. And you do, you pant out platitudes and pleas for more until he blankets your body with his own, weighing you down as he pushes into you, fucking deeper and deeper until your slick covers both of your thighs. He fucks you with four fingers in your mouth, pushing down on your tongue while he calls you his favourite patient. His perfect patient.

“Am I hurting you?” You open your eyes in an instant, and the dentist is hovering above you, eyebrows furrowed with concern. You aren’t even sure how long your eyes have been closed, but the light overhead stings a bit and you blink owlishly before speaking.

I fucking wish.

“No, no I’m fine.” You steeple your hands together in your lap and try to shake off the reverie.

“Great, well we’re all done here,” he pulls his mask down to hang around his neck and blinds you with a beaming smile, before you can even feel guilty, the dentist spins around in his bone white office chair, rummaging in a shelf before coming back to you, with two closed fists held up for your choosing.

“Pick one.” When you can only respond with a confused tilt of the head he explains, “A treat for my favourite patient. I know you aren’t exactly lollipop age but…” Dr. Kirishima continues to speak but the sound of his voice is drowned out by the roaring in your ears. You interrupt him mid-sentence and tap your hand against his left and he opens his wide palm with a flourish to reveal a bright yellow sugar free wrapped candy and a packet of floss with a smiley little cartoon tooth emblazoned on the front.

You aren’t quite sure how, but you know it’s mocking you.

You take the gifts from his hand, trying hard to ignore the feeling of your fingertips dragging against his open palm. There’s maybe one hundred filthy thoughts slamming against the walls of your skull produced by the feel of his skin against yours, and honestly you’re just thankful they’re not readable in your eyes or pouring out of your fucking ears. You clear your throat and do your best to smile at Dr. Kirishima, swivelling in the dentist chair to place your feet back on the ground once he scoots back enough for you to stand. You gather your bag and coat while he rattles off what you need to remember; “easy on the sugar, red wine and coffee, brush twice a day, floss as often as you can, etc.” With the dentist now out of your immediate line of sight you can force yourself to calm down. Your heart rate finally returns to a steady pulse in your chest and a centering deep breath brings you back down the rest of the way. While you shove your hands into your coat pockets to check that your essentials are all accounted for, you can hear Dr. Kirishima quietly issue directions to the waiting dental assistant in the hallway. Finally back in your right mind, you turn with your things in hand to thank your dentist, half relieved and half disappointed to be leaving his close quarters, only to slam bodily into the hard planes of his chest beneath his thin dress shirt.

You stumble backwards and it’s the quick movement of Dr. Kirishima’s hands (one cemented around your forearm and the other on your hip) that stops you from colliding with his tray of instruments.

“Are you alright?” He questions you, palms iron hot against your skin, even through your clothes. His voice is just a bit too loud for how close you are to each other, and you shift backwards in his hold to look into his eyes. In the shuffle, you’d pressed both of your, embarrassingly, sweaty hands against his shoulders, one of them fisted tightly in the lapel of his doctor’s coat. Still, even as you blabber assurances to him looming above you, neither of you move to let go, opting instead to remain stock still, as though the slightest disruption could make your position any more inappropriate than it already was.

Kirishima’s hand tightens on your hip just the tiniest bit and when he opens his mouth to speak to you, your gaze focuses on the exceptionally vicious point of his canines. You force yourself to meet his eyes again, just fast enough to catch him staring at your lips, parted in surprise at the collision.

Slowly, as if approaching a frightened animal, Kirishima draws closer to you, and for a second you think he’ll kiss you, but instead his cheek brushes over yours, lips meeting the curve of your ear, warm breath rushing against your skin, eliciting full body shivers. The grip you have on his shirt turns to iron and you urge him closer, narrowing the minimal space between you until your chest is pressed so firmly against his.

“I-”

Whatever he was going to say is cut short by the sound of the office door swinging open, heralding the dental assistant’s return. Thankfully, Kirishima’s assistant has their eyes on their clipboard, addressing you by your last name and rattling off the best date for your next cleaning. While their attention is split you force space between yourself and the man holding you. When they do finally raise their eyes, looking for confirmation, you bob your head in agreement, hoping to god they’d give you a form, or receipt or anything to remind you of the details currently being divulged only to be drowned out by the thud of your own heartbeat.

“I’d actually like for her to come in earlier, if possible, we didn’t get the chance to do a polishing today.”

Both you and the assistant blink at the doctor, and slowly his cheeks redden under your stare.

“If that’s alright with you?” He coughs, folding his arms over his chest.

It takes you a second to understand what’s going on but when you do, it snaps your willpower in half.

“Next week then! I’ve got time, if you do.” You reply and Dr. Kirishima’s answering smile is blinding in the best way.

“Sounds perfect.”

[paellaplease]

Hi, I see you're taking requests! If it hasn't been done yet, could you do aspectabund with Revali please? I love your writing <3

2. aspectabund - letting emotion show easily through the face or eyes

pairing: revali x reader

summary:  he knows you’ve been avoiding him and he can’t seem to figure out why.

  Shaking the snow from his feathers, Revali surveyed the layered red rock of Mount Agaat with a scrutinizing gleam in his eyes. The reconnaissance flyby over the ice covered peaks had proven successful, with him safely scouting out several bokoblin camps under the cover of cloud. 

Mindful of the tripwire, he entered the makeshift campsite to find you and the Gerudo Chief conversing quietly by the fire. You appeared in deep contemplation, and out of respect (and perhaps partial curiosity) he made no move to announce his arrival. 

Urbosa crossed her arms, turning to you with a sly smile adorning her lip. “You can’t keep dancing around each other forever.” 

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, fiddling with one of your winter gloves. “It’s highly likely he won’t understand anyway.” 

“I’m sure his feelings on the matter are not as dissimilar as you think. Besides...” She leaned forward, whispering something into your ear. 

Warmth creeping up to your cheeks, your face was in your hands in an instant, body leaning forward as Urbosa let out a short laugh at your exaggerated reaction. Cute.

The mortified groan you gave in response made him chuckle, finally alerting you both to his presence. 

The Gerudo Chief angled her head and gave a brief nod in his direction, most likely having sensed his presence ages ago. In stark contrast, you quickly spun in your seat, mouth agape. 

Nearly falling from the log, Urbosa reached out to snag the hood of your coat, saving your face from smashing into the dirt ground. Revali tsked, you should really be more aware of your surroundings. 

"Revali!” Immediately, you bit down on your lip, schooling your face into something more subdued. “Welcome back." 

Tilting his head, he found it odd how difficult it was for you to maintain eye contact. Your cheeks were darker at this point, the tip of your nose slightly red. His wings itched to readjust the scarf wrapped loosely around your neck. Perhaps you were cold. That won’t do. 

"Did I miss anything?" He asked, looking pointedly at Urbosa. 

He would never admit it but the Chief maintained a steadfast poker face. “I have nothing to share.” Standing up, she moved to add more kindling to the fire. “No monster has dared approach us yet.”

Judging by the impressive blades hanging from both your hips, he wasn’t surprised. Rubbing at his shoulders, he swiped a wing over the rocky expanse before them. “Good. And thanks to me, we now have a greater chance of avoiding them on the way up.”

He didn’t miss the way your body froze when Urbosa offered for him to take her seat. Not seeing any issue and assuming it to be a response to the cold of the mountain, he acquiesced. 

The mission was completed without a hitch, the swing of your blade delivering the killing blow to the fierce lynel that guarded the peak of the mountains. Revali tried not to stare as you cleaned your blade on the snow, ignoring the errant beat of his heart as you turned to smile at him, skin still flushed from the heat of battle. 

“It comes to no surprise that you are the Gerudo Chief’s apprentice.” He nodded, unable to hide the hint of admiration in his voice.

Tugging at the sleeves of your flowing blue jacket, your eyes were wide and shining, mouth close to admitting something profound and important. Revali kept his beak shut, waiting for you to say what you needed, disappointed when all it came to be was a simple “Thanks.” 

You then proceeded not to speak to him for the rest of the week. 

It was a shame really, you were one of the few allies he could stand for more than five minutes. The Rito thought you were diligent; a fighter that could tame a tempest, and most of all a worthy opponent when it came to the odd verbal sparring match. 

Never had you shied away from a challenge, especially one posed by him. He was invested in your progress, secretly standing guard on the nights you would sneak out to train, ensuring that no person nor creature would disturb you. What's worse, a part of him honestly thought that you had begun to consider him as something close to a friend. 

And now...

“I’ll scout the area!” 

Revali sighed as he watched your retreating form once again, the remaining Champions looking at each other with equal confusion at your sudden disappearance into the forest. He didn’t know what your problem was, and honestly one more day of these mixed messages was going to drive him insane. 

Slipping past him like water, you evaded him at all costs. Taking your meals alone or with different people, changing the location of your training sessions, waking up unbearably early or extremely late. 

Then, on day eight of this madness, he found you sparring with a particular golden-haired knight that he couldn’t stand. That was the last straw. 

“Fight me,” he said to you, uncaring of the other knights on the training field that stopped to stare at him approaching. The sword in his wing, though blunted, felt foreign and heavy. Long has it been since he last held a blade like this. 

Taking off your helmet, you rubbed at your eyes to see if it was truly him. “Revali?” Funny, that was the first thing you’d said to him in days. “Where’s your bow? Ah, it seems you’ve forgotten.” You were already in the process of collecting your things. “Perhaps next time. It wouldn’t be fair if you had to fight me with a sword, after all…”

He scoffed, watching as you turned to leave. “Oh, so you plan on running away again like a scared fledgling?” 

The training sword sailed past his head, missing his cheek by only a fraction. You didn't give him a second to flinch. 

Revali side-stepped away, making a move to swing his sword at your back. Feet sliding, you blocked it with ease, sword already there to intercept his own even before it completed its arc through the air. 

Experimentally, he pushed back on the blade. Dead still, it refused to budge. He tilted his head to capture your eyes, thrilled to see the burning embers behind them, all passivity long abandoned. There you are. “Nice to see you,” he grinned wryly. 

Both of you separated quickly. Circling each other, his eyes took in the determined clench of your jaw and the steady rise and fall of your chest, waiting for when you’d launch yourself forward again. 

"Not bad," you smirked. “Another one from that bag of tricks Chief Kamori taught you?” Your confidence in the moment was rather enthralling. Once again he found himself memorizing the planes of your face, reveling in the way your emotions would flit past—clear as day. 

“Just you wait til I’m in the air with a bow in my hand." 

"That's surprising!" You grinned, teeth sharp. "Didn't think the Great Revali was so reliant on keeping to the skies.” A cloud of dirt was kicked up as you propelled yourself forward. Taking the hilt with both hands, you raised your sword to strike heavily down on his head. “But isn’t it pretty when he finally comes down to your level.” 

With a grunt, Revali barely had time to strengthen his stance, bringing his blade up to block your attack. The clashing of swords sent his talons skidding back on the dirt, the muscles in his arms straining against the weight of the blow. 

“You’re insane!” He laughed breathily. “That could have cleaved my skull in two.”

“I knew you’d block it.” 

The fight soon became the only other sound in the training field, many of the knights having left to complete their drills somewhere else. Even that quiet Hylian was no longer there, taking his leave once confident you could hold your own. 

Of course they can defend themselves. He wanted to call out in mocking arrogance. And if they ever were in trouble they wouldn’t need you anyway. Because I’m here. 

Taking a deep breath, you launched yourself at him again, delivering several attacks in a series of sweeping motions. Revali found himself having to focus intently on each one, blocking one after the other, eyes following the movement of your arm in an attempt to anticipate where the blade would next appear. 

As such, he doesn’t notice the sweeping motion of your leg, the action sending him falling backwards into the ground. 

Unlucky for you, the Rito had known the feeling of falling all his life. And before you had the chance to step away, he discarded his blade, reaching out to drag you down with him. 

The air was knocked out of him as you landed painfully on his chest. Your sword slipped from your hand, clattering to the side. Revali pushed it further away when you tried to reach for it, trapping you against him with his other wing. 

Stilling, he could feel the rush of your heartbeat against his own. From on top, you glared at him. “Let me go, fights not over.” 

“Call it an intermission, darling.” You went red at that, smushing your head into his chest so as to hide the wild blush on your cheeks. “This fight is on hold until you tell me why you’ve been avoiding me this whole week.” 

“Because you’re…”

“What was that?” He said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. 

“Because you’re you!” You finally let out. An angry scream left your throat, except because your face was still pressed to his front it came out as muffled and rather adorable. 

Revali rested his head on the ground as he exhaled, finding peace in the never ending sea of blue stretched out above you both. “Well,” he said, interrupting the little breakdown you were having. “Of course I’m me, there’s no one else really.  Unless you’ve met another Rito of the same name with razor sharp wit and devilishly good looks.” 

You huffed a laugh, finally lifting your head to look at him. This close and he could see the fan of your eyelashes and the kiss of the sun on your cheeks. It took everything in him not to reach out and trace the line of your mouth, wondering if your lips were as soft as they appeared. 

“I’ve been avoiding you because I like you, silly bird.” Blinking, you gazed at him with utter softness and sincerity. “And I apologise for running. I intended to tell you earlier— on the mountain. But self-doubt got the best of me and I didn’t want you to stop being my friend if you didn’t feel the same.”

Revali’s wings fell to his sides as you shifted, propping yourself up with both your arms. “Guess there’s nothing to worry about now that it’s out in the open.” A watery laugh escaped from your lips when he said nothing. “Come on, Revali. Say something. Or at least stand up so I can kick your ass.” 

His arms were around you once again in an instant, crushing you to him in a tight embrace. “Rito, if this is some kind of trick to knock me off my guard I swear…” He could feel your smile as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck. 

“I like you too.” He shook his head, poking you in the side and smiling when you yelped in response. “You are amazing and skillful. I enjoy every moment I spend with you. Though you overthink too much. Alas, but the curse of one so perceptive.” 

“Still don’t know if that’s an insult or a compliment.” You mouthed into his neck. His feathers raised at the feeling of your warm breath against him. “Though I’m extremely relieved that Urbosa was right.” 

Revali thought back to the mission at Mount Agaat, wondering what exactly the Gerudo Chief told you back then. “Right about what?”

“That you can’t take your eyes off me, even if you tried.” 

[rhysismydaddy]

can you write a canon rowaelin oneshot where aelin’s pregnant and it’s nighttime so while she’s sleeping, rowan talks to the baby through her stomach and sings a lullaby? and maybe add a scene where aelin’s water breaks and rowan freaks out or something?

It was about two minutes before Aelin’s favorite part of the day.

She could hardly wait, but she had to remember to stay calm and still and everything else someone who was asleep would be. 

Luckily, she knew she didn’t snore, so all she had to do was stay quiet and keep her eyes shut.

A small task that became so much harder when--two minutes later, at exactly 10:30 like always--she felt her husband slip into bed next to her. 

It’d been getting harder and harder to actually stay awake this late as her pregnancy developed, but she still found herself fighting the fall of her eyelids every night, despite knowing she should sleep.

Cool air kissed her skin briefly as he settled next to her and kissed her cheek. Like she’d done even before getting pregnant, she turned on her side so he could snuggle her from behind and wrap his arms around her.

This was home to her, here in his arms. 

Rowan’s head tucked into her neck, and she sighed sleepily, something she didn’t even have to fake.

After a few moments, her husband’s hands began to rub over her stomach lightly. 

She was wearing one of his t-shirts, one that barely fit over her anymore, and hadn’t bothered to wash her hair that day, but she’d never felt more beautiful than when he smiled against her neck and started to talk to the child they’d created together.

He silently slipped further down the bed, resting his head on the curve of her hip, but kept himself wrapped around her so she could continue stealing his warmth.

Aelin’s ears strained to hear as he started whispering, but she resisted the temptation to move closer, knowing it would give her away.

“Mommy’s sleeping right now, so we have to be quiet,” he murmured, big hands cradling her even bigger belly. “But soon, we’ll be able to do this in person. You’ll be here by the end of the week, from what they tell us.”

Tears burned in her eyes at the excitement in his voice as he said, “I can’t wait to meet you, Firefly.”

They’d found out they were having a girl two weeks ago, and he’d been ridiculous ever since, buying pink onesies, hanging matching twinkly lights in the nursery, reading a how-to book about raising girls.

But the one thing they hadn’t prepared for was what they were going to name her. They’d argued about it, and then one day he just started referring to their unborn child as Firefly. 

It was a nickname that stemmed from him calling her Fireheart, and it made her almost cry every time he said it. 

“Your mother’s the most important woman in my life, but you... you’re my baby girl.” She could hear his smile. “You’re going to be just like her. You’ll be strong, and beautiful, and will drive me absolutely crazy.”

Silent tears escaped, even as she remained perfectly still. 

“But I can’t wait to see what traits of mine you have, too.” He pressed his lips to her stomach in a feather-light kiss, then whispered, “I love you so much, little Firefly. Now go to sleep.”

Rowan resumed his big-spoon position and pulled her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her to cradle both her and their child. 

“That goes for you, too, Fireheart.”

Aelin grinned and snuggled further into him, murmuring, “I love you, Ro.”

He kissed her cheek. “I love you, too.”

~

“Are you serious?” 

She nodded. 

“You want lemon gelato for lunch?”

Rowan’s brow furrowed, prompting her to ask, “Why not?”

He looked at her like she had two heads. “You hate lemon, babe.”

Aelin groaned, rubbing a hand over her stomach. She’d forgotten about that. “Take it up with her. She’s the one demanding it. Little brat.”

He scowled. “She isn’t a brat. And she can have as much lemon gelato as she wants just as soon as she’s born.”

Her stomach reminded her once again how empty it was.

“Rowan, I swear I’m going to stab you if you don’t go get me something to eat.”

Her husband just smiled. “It’s moments like these when I’m reminded why I agreed to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“A very short life, if you don’t-”

A container of gelato landed on the counter in front of her, along with a spoon. 

With narrowed eyes, she checked the label, then demanded, “How did you know?”

He laughed. “You talk in your sleep.”

“Eavesdropper,” she mumbled, ripping into the container and taking a huge mouthful. 

See, this is why pregnancy was strange to Aelin. Nine months ago she’d hated lemon, and now this stupid container of gelato was the best thing she’d ever eaten.

“I love you,” she said around a mouthful, grinning when he came to press a kiss to her cheek. 

“And now she’s sweet,” he teased, brushing her hair off her forehead. 

Then he went tense, and every bone in his body seemed to still as he said seriously, “Aelin. Look down.”

“I can’t see past my belly, dummy. Just pick up whatever I dropped.”

His mouth opened and closed for a few seconds before he spit out, “You... your water broke.”

She leaned over slightly to look at the floor, seeing that there was in fact a wet spot beneath her. “Huh.”

She took another bite of gelato.

“Huh?” he asked incredulously, leaving the kitchen and starting to run around the house. He threw things in the bag he’d affectionately deemed The Baby Bag, yelling at her to get ready.

She rolled her eyes and continued eating, only pausing when Rowan burst into the room and demanded breathlessly, “What are you doing?”

“Eating. Can you hand me the pizza from last night?”

Because who was she to question her daughter’s cravings?

“Aelin, we have to go! You’re in labor.”

Reaching the bottom of the container, she sighed. Why did they make pints so small these days? “I’m aware.”

“So then get in the car!”

Her always calm and collected husband looked about ten seconds away from ripping his own hair out, which made her smile. “Labor lasts hours, Rowan. I assure you, I have time to eat a slice of pizza.”

“I’ll order you a whole, brand new, hot pizza at the hospital.”

She considered this, tapping her chin. “Fine.”

Then she turned and waddled down the hallway to their room.

“Wait!” he called out, coming after her. “What are you doing? The door is the other way.”

“I’m not going to the hospital in a wet dress, Rowan. It’s called standards.” Ignoring his angry little growl, she changed into a clean dress. “Zip me up, please.”

He zipped the dress in a flash, almost ripping it, then grabbed her hand and started pulling her towards the door. 

“Wait, I need shoes!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, green eyes bright with panic. “Babies don’t care if you wear shoes when you birth them.”

“If you think I’m walking across a hospital floor with no shoes on... grab those, will you?” She pointed to a pair of sandals, not feeling like bending down to get them herself. 

Rowan roughly put her feet in them, making her frown. “I’m not really appreciating this attitude, you know. You don’t need to manhandle me.”

His jaw was tight from where he was grinding it, but he still sounded perfectly civil as he said back, “I just want to get to the hospital.”

Aelin sighed, patting his shoulder. “It’s been five minutes. We have time.”

He looked a little relieved... until she said casually, “Plus, worst comes to worst, you deliver her in the tub. All doctors really do is stand there and catch the kid.”

His mouth fell open, and the attitude came swooping back in. “I am not birthing this child in our bathtub, woman. Now, you can walk to the car yourself, or I will carry you, but either way we are leaving right the fuck now.”

Rolling her eyes, she turned and slowly made her way to the door, pausing when she came back into the kitchen. “You know, cold pizza actually sounds better-”

Rowan swooped her up, the ten pound bowling ball in her stomach seeming to be no issue, and walked toward the front door. 

“Rowan! Put me down, you buzzard!”

He set her in the passenger seat, gripped her chin, and set a serious kiss to her lips. “You’re so sweet.”

Her hands fisted in the hem of her dress. “I don’t want to go yet.”

“You’re going.”

“No!” she exploded, pushing him away and trying to get out of the car. “No, no, no. I can’t go yet, I need more time, I-”

Understanding dawned in his eyes, and he slipped a hand over her mouth to shut her up. “You can do this, Fireheart.”

She was crying, although she wasn’t sure when that had even started. 

She shook her head.

“You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met. You can do this. You’re going to be a great mom. I may be freaking out about actually getting to the hospital, but I’m not scared about what follows.”

Aelin gave him disbelieving eyes.

"If I wasn’t sure, one hundred percent positive, that you could do this, then yeah, I’d be scared. But you’re going to do great. I know that, and so do you.”

He took his hand off her mouth, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Sweetheart, you’re great at everything. This won’t be any different.”

That made her smile, even as she rolled her eyes. 

“I am pretty amazing,” she agreed softly.

“Yes, you are. But I’d really like to do this in a hospital room instead of our driveway, and you’re probably half-way dilated by now, so-”

It was Aelin’s turn to cover his mouth with her hand. “Let’s go meet Firefly.”

She didn’t even know the name of her child or how the hell they were going to pull this off, but under the steady weight of his gaze, Aelin knew that no matter what, they’d figure it out together.

~

[mimiwrites2000]

What Does White Mean?

Chapter ONE / two

(completed)

AO3 ~~

Pairings: Armin x Annie

(side pairings: Pieck Finger x Jean Kirstein, Reiner Braun x Hitch Dreyse, Mikasa Ackreman x someone new)

Words count: 3416

* spoilers for chapter 131 and up

Summary:

The ocean lulled them to sleep, and the sun woke them up with mild kisses. Tangled with each other, in their cabin by the beach. After the war ended, they moved together, ever since, they faced obstacles, issues, and misunderstandings. One of them was Armin’s seashells. Stubbornness got in the way, but no matter how much they tried, they couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.

He already filled two boxes to the rim. Pieces falling out from them, the wooden edges of the boxes barely holding them in. 

Sea shells in necklaces, bracelets, rings. But nothing was good enough, nothing was perfect.

He didn't know what the perfect one looked like, but he knew that none of them was it.

In his small workshop, that was, in fact, just a tiny storage room before he started this hobby, Armin worked his way through another piece of jewelry.

A seashell with streaks of pink, light as Annie's lips. Dots of sparkling white adorning it, just like the sparks in her eyes.

He put the final touches on the necklace, twisting the clasp in its place, giving it two tugs to insure its firmness, then opened the cabinet in his desk, and pulled out a third box.

Imperfect piece number one went in the third box.

Great.

The storage room— the workshop had a small, triangle, frosted glass window, but Armin didn't like it, it made the small place even smaller. After he moved in with Annie, he changed it immediately, to a clear transparent glass. 

Their ocean-view cabin met Armin’s dreams to the smallest detail; one bedroom, one bathroom, a living room, and a kitchenette were enough to satisfy them and convincing enough to buy it without second thoughts.

He spent most of his mornings either strolling by the beach or in Annie's arms, and his nights by a bonfire or under the sheets with her.

They had their breakfasts on the porch, with the salty wafts drifting with the ocean breeze, the crooning of seagulls their only companion.

Everything seemed perfect.

Except for the nights when he woke up in cold sweat, screams rupturing his lungs, Annie’s hands trying to calm him down, embracing him and running through his hair. Or mornings while Annie took longer in the shower, while he sat outside, listening to her silent sobs.

But they were ok. Armin always hugged Annie when she stepped out of the shower, and whispered that they're ok, they're alive, healthy, together.

They're ok.

But this jewelry crafting thing came out of nowhere. And Armin wished he learnt about it long before.

It was Annie who suggested it, when she saw his seashells collection accumulating to the ceiling, she said he might as well make good use of it. She didn’t specify jewelry crafts, but he found that these delicate shells needed a delicate use.

And there he was, in his former storage room, picking through seashells, twisting wires and knitting in beads.

He had been trying to make her the perfect piece. He still didn’t find the perfect one.

He eyed the two boxes — the newly third one joining them. He never thought about selling them, or giving them to anyone else, or throwing them away…

He wondered why.

Maybe because he clutched onto one seashell for more than four years, and the habit was born with the many nights he spent eyeing it, whether it was in his room at night, or in front of a crystal in an icy cold basement.

Knock knock!

“Don’t come in!” Armin’s words overlapped, he was so immersed in his daydream that the knocks on the door made him jump in his seat.

“I won’t, I promise,” from the other side of the door, Annie grumbled. Armin felt bad, he never let her in his workshop, mainly because he didn’t want to spoil the surprise that he still didn’t figure out, and secondly… well, he wasn’t ready for any judgment on his poor jewelry crafting skills.

“Armin?”

“Y-yeah?”

“It’s getting late, I was wondering if you can… you know, get dinner ready? I don’t feel like burning the kitchen.”

“Oh right,” he got up and opened the door, only to be met with an arms-crossed Annie, a passive look on her face. He didn’t know if she was upset because she was hungry, or because he was, once again, keeping her away from his workshop. “We don’t want a burnt kitchen now do we?” he asked, half jokingly

Annie tried cooking once, on his birthday. She tried baking a simple cake. They ended up with a piece of a circular char, on top of it one single candle.

“I don’t think we have-” the rest of the sentence was swallowed down Armin’s throat when he saw groceries lining up the kitchen table.

“I went out an hour ago, I didn’t want to disturb you, but don’t worry, I checked everything on the list, twice.”

“Ah, yes, thanks.”

Guilt swelt in his guts.

She didn’t want to disturb him…

She was upset with him.

He rolled up his sweater’s sleeves, washing his hands, before he started opening the groceries bags, emptying them on the counter.

Annie on the side crossing her arms.

“What do you want for dinner?” he asked, trying to ignore her glaring eyes by inspecting a head of lettuce in his hand.

“Anything, it doesn’t matter.”

One 

Two 

Three-

“Maybe something fast so you can get back to your small workshop-”

“Okay Annie listen-”

“No you listen!”

The lettuce head froze in his hands.

“You’ve been doing this for weeks! Even- even I don’t know how many months!”

Armin slowly put down the lettuce on the counter, looking down at his feet.

“And you never let me in! Like, ever! I don’t understand why!” she continued, her arms flailing around, before resting on her hips, “every single day, every fucking day you lock yourself up in that room for hours! And I know you’re playing around with your shells but why are you hiding like this?! I’m not gonna pretend that something is not up,” she was pacing around the kitchen, Armin watching her from the corner of his eyes. “I know I’m the one who suggested it, but- but-” she sighed, “even when we go out on the beach, your eyes are always down, searching for even more shells! What is up with you?!”

“Annie-”

“I don’t understand what you’re hiding, I don’t understand why you’re hiding it,” suddenly she stopped, Armin looked at her, “we moved in together, Armin, we live under the same goddamn roof.”

“Annie-”

“What?Annie what? You’re sorry? Keep it to yourself! You’ve already apologized twice before but nothing ever changed,” she turned, and before he could stop her, she stormed into their bedroom.

And he was left alone in the kitchen.

The ocean waves swayed in a symphony, but when he looked outside, all he saw was a dark mass that swallowed him whole.

Armin huffed, he knew this was coming, he knew it so well.

Annie wasn’t wrong.

But she wasn’t right either.

He was doing it for her. He was locking himself up to make her the perfect jewelry.

Armin kicked the heel of his shoes against the cabinet. Thud thud thud. Putting a rhythm to his mind and his thoughts.

Maybe... she was right. She didn’t know what he was doing, she felt left out.

They only have each other.

No one should leave the other in the dark.

No matter what.

Armin pushed himself off the cabinets, and walked towards the room.

He stood at the threshold, watching Annie curled on her side of the bed under the duvet.

He pressed his lips together, but he didn’t dare make a sound, even though he knew she was aware of his presence. 

He sat on his side of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. 

Annie didn’t move.

Armin sighed. He fucked up, and he must fix it. 

He kicked off his shoes, and slithered under the duvet.

His face confronted her back.

One

Two

Three-

She turned around-

“I’m sorry,” they both said at the same time.

Armin bit his lips to stop himself from smiling, while gazing at Annie’s stoic face, with a slight dip between her eyebrows.

They talked, confessed, together at the same time, their words overlapping.

“I know your craft means so much to you-”

“I’ve been leaving you out of this-”

“I don’t mean that you should spend every single moment with me-”

“And I want to spend more time with you-”

Then the last sentence, they breathed it together, “I promise to be a better person.”

Their eyes on each other, blue meeting blue.

Magnetic force pulled them towards each other, capturing each other's lips, hands running over each other's bodies.

Their clothes were stripped and thrown on the floor, while the groceries in the kitchen were left untouched.

~~~

The most valuable times for Annie were these moments when she woke up beside him, heads on the same pillow, skin on skin, under the blankets.

The warmth like an aura around his body made her alive, incomparable to soft rays of early morning sun filtering through the window.

It was so early and everything was quiet, even the ocean fell in a quiet slumber.

Without moving, she checked the time.

There was still a couple of hours before Armin's usual wake up time.

She usually got up before him, went on an extra walk, or maybe a dip in the ocean.

But getting up from bed and leaving this beauty behind would be as bad as a crime.

So she stayed, watching his face. His breath warm on her face, his lips slightly parted, bangs ruffled on his forehead. Mildly, she caressed them, brushing them off his forehead. Before she cupped his cheek, and she held the world and the sun and the ocean— all together in her palm.

His eyelashes fanned upon his closed eyes like sun rays. She tilted her head up, and kissed his eyelid, soft, like a feather.

Armin was a light sleeper, the last thing she wanted was to ruin his sleep.

A cold breeze wafted through the window, Annie shivered. She noticed Armin hunching his back, he must be cold as well.

She inched closer, cautious, wrapping her arms around his frame, over his shoulder, nesting her head on his chest. The warmth radiating off his body relaxed her muscles, and in those moments, deep inside, something would stir in her, feelings she wasn’t aware she would experience one day.

Arms wrapped around her, and she tensed, did she wake him up?

She peeked up at him, he was already watching her, his eyes barely open.

He tried to speak, but no voice came out. After he cleared his throat, he tried again, “Good… morning.” his voice deep, hoarse.

She rubbed her feet against the mattress, “Did I wake you up?” she whispered.

He squinted his eyes, deep in thought, “If I said no?”

“Good.”

“And if I said yes?”

Annie runs her tongue on the inside of her teeth, “I can make it up for you.”

At that, Armin props himself up on one elbow, raising an eyebrow, beckoning her to continue.

With one finger pointing at his chest, she said, “I’ll make you breakfast.”

He snorted, the voice vibrated through Annie’s body, and she had to swallow.

“No,” was his simple, predictable answer.

“Your lose,” She said, swinging her legs off the bed, but before she could stand up, arms wrapped around her, rolling her in bed.

~~~

Breakfast time was long gone, so, after Armin went through the groceries from the night before, he made a light meal for both of them. While he cooked, Annie watched him, sitting on the counter, her legs swinging.

She enjoyed watching him cook, muscles of his arms flexing as he cut tomatoes, brushing his bangs away from his face, wiping his hands on the towel.

By that point she could blindly sculpt a statue of his body.

He also enjoyed catching her off guard, catching her eyes every now and then. When they first moved together, she would blush furiously and avert her eyes, but now, even though she still blushes, sometimes she would pay him back with a sudden kiss, or sometimes she would dare him with more than a kiss.

It was the privilege of a peaceful life, the result of going to hell and back, tolerating an agonizing pain for years.

A slow-paced life, where everything was in place, everything was right.

They reached the end of the labyrinthine, they might as well celebrate their victory.

Post afternoon, and after a meal with their legs tangled under the table, they strolled along the shore.

Annie never imagined that she would settle down in a cabin by the beach, every day the seagulls waking her up, and every night the ocean waves lulling her to sleep.

Hand by hand, shoes off, the sand tickling her feet, like walking on a pile of feathers.

The sun above them soft on their skin, a chilly afternoon, perfect for a walk.

Armin tried so hard to keep his gaze on the horizon, fighting the urge to peak down and hunt for shells.

He wouldn’t rest until he found the perfect shell for Annie’s piece.

However, he remembered his promise to Annie, wanted to spend more time with her, she wanted to spend more time with him.

An especially shiny shell caught his attention, tempting him to kneel down, and plunge his hands in the sand and go back to the cabin with a bag full of new shells. 

“I was thinking of going to town for a few days,” Annie said, catching Armin off guard, “my father wrote to me and said he’s holding a dinner, and we’re invited.” 

“Oh, yeah sure,” Armin answered. Her father lived only half an hour away, in the town, alongside a couple of their old friends as well.

They lived with him for a couple of weeks before, as they went hunting for their own place. He was an old nice man, but he certainly had a temper.

Armin was exceptionally nervous around her father for the first few months. For what reason, he still didn’t know, but something about that man made him rethink everything he wanted to say twice.

But after all, her father accepted their relationship, if not a bit too dramatically, for he cried and hugged Armin for the first time.

In the end, they had to move out, Annie was adamant they had their own house.

Armin smiled, “You can move out and live with your father.”

Annie raised an eyebrow.

“You know, I can move with you-” his voice got muffled; Annie’s palm on his mouth.

“No.”

“Whyyyy?” he asked, his voice choked up with a laugh, he wanted to try biting Annie’s hand on his mouth.

“If each of us would get a different room, then yeah sure,” she answered, lowering her hand, and continuing her walk.

“Not my fault you’re too loud-”

Annie started running.

The nearby village could hear Armin’s howling laugh. 

~~~

Annie waited at the cabin longer than Armin would need to catch up to her. She wondered what was taking him so long, though she had a clear idea what was holding him off.

She waited by the door, but then the sun got a little uncomfortable, so she went inside. She hated that the first thing she thought of was checking Armin’s workshop.

She immediately shook her idea, shoving it away. Intrusiveness wasn’t her trait.

But the door glowed in her sight. Walking to it, and turning the knob seemed like the most tempting thing ever.

No

“No,” she said it out loud, to convince herself to stop.

She would certainly be upset if she was in his shoes. She would never do that to him.

Nope.

Never.

One 

Two 

Three

She walked to the door. An old, small door, compared to a standard door, Armin had to bend to get through, but Annie bet she can walk through it, with her head brushing the door frame.

A tiny place for a workshop, she thought, she wondered how he keeps his tools there, the dozens of seashells bags going there, never going out again.

She was burning to know what was in there.

She was in front of the door, she could lift her hand, and turn the knob, and she could see it all for herself.

Finally,

She reached for the antique door knob.

Her palm rested on it.

Turn it turn it turn it turn it-

She twirled and walked away, right to their bedroom, without even a glance back.

A minute or two after, she heard the door of the cabin open and close. Annie got up, not thinking much of it, “Hey what took you so long-”

Armin stood there, with a handful of seashells in his hands.

Annie threw her head back…

One

Two 

Three

“Listen-”

“It hadn’t even been a day, not a single day had passed,” Annie said, frustration evident in her voice, which was as rare as the sky turning green.

“Annie, I can explain.”

Annie crossed her arms, waiting for him to explain.

Armin sighed, he didn’t want to spoil the surprise, he had to come up with something.

“I’m making something.”

“Yeah no shit.”

“No no no I mean I’m making something,” he said, his closed clutch on the seashells flailing around.

Annie sighed, “Try again.”

“I’m honest, I’m making something.”

“And?” she inquired.

A moment of silence passed, Armin trying so hard to come up with something, anything.

Annie knew that face very well, the face Armin makes when he’s trying to come up with a good fight in a debate, the face he does when he would lob a few words to hypnotize a whole crowd of people.

But not on her.

Never on her.

She knew him too well for his own good.

Without waiting for an answer, she turned around, returning to their room. She threw over her shoulder, “Tomorrow is the dinner at my father’s house,” before she vanished from sight.

Armin, left alone, stared down at the seashells in his hands.

~~~

Armin spent most of the night in his workshop, his hands working, but his mind somewhere else.

He didn’t talk to Annie since their confrontation, nor did any of them eat.

Embarrassment gnawed at him, he promised her, yet he broke the promise.

He must be a terrible partner.

Armin sighed.

He wondered why he was even trying to make Annie a piece of jewelry, to win her heart? 

Pfft

She was better off without him anyway.

She could leave him at any second and he wouldn’t even question it. She was smart, pretty, skillful, talented, gorgeous, sweet, and... nice.

And what was he? He couldn’t think of one good trait about himself. Not good enough to match hers.

And he fucked up.

He groaned, letting his head fall on the desk.

The pile of the new shells sat in his sight line, waiting to be cleaned of the sand, but he had no intention of doing so. He wanted to cage himself in his workshop forever, rather than facing Annie again after he broke his promise.

Armin swallowed, wondering how he would meet her father the next day.

Mr. Leonhart was protective, way too protective. Armin knew he wouldn’t hesitate to cut off Armin’s head if he hurt Annie.

Naaah.

He thought. Annie is much more mature than that.

He snorted at himself, he had some stupid thoughts sometime, but this one was the stupidest of them all.

Annie ranting to her father about her boyfriend.

Pffft

Armin straightened his back on the chair, thinking of what he should do.

Then, at that moment, a glimmer caught his eyes.

Armin shook his head, peeking outside the small, circular window.

He wasn’t sure if it came from outside or from the inside, but then it happened again, this time, he was sure it came from the inside of the workshop. Armin looked around, trying to find it.

The moon light filtering through the glass, gleaming upon the pile of seashells accumulated on his desk.

The glimmer happened again.

But that time, Armin caught it.

It came from one of the seashells. 

Armin scattered the pile on the desk, going over each shell, rotating it under the moonlight, trying to find that one seashell.

On his seventh try, he found it.

Something clicked, and Armin knew exactly what he had to do. Everything cleared in his mind, and he found it absurd that he only saw it now.

Locked in his small workshop, with his back bowed down. Armin finished his perfect piece when the first ray of sunshine broke the night.

.

.

.

uwu thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! next chapter (which is much much longer) will be posted in a couple of days or so can't wait for the other ships to make their cameos hahhaaa thank you for reading! like always, feedback, kudos, all is much appreciated

[anjaelle]

Heavy Weight

Pair: Boxer!August Walker x Black!OFC Warnings: Mention of Blood, Mention of Bruising, Mentions of Depression, Mention of Abuse, Mention of Self Harm; Some comfort.  Summary: The various ways in which a man learns about vulnerability. Word Count: 1.5k a/n: This is some dark shit. Idk where this came from, and I’m sorry if it triggers someone. I tried not to be too graphic. More of the focus is on him than the relationship, if that makes sense.

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  “Tell me... if I’m doing too much,” he sighed between kisses, “tell me if you need me to let up.” 

 She smiled against his mouth, placing a splayed hand on his firm chest, “I will.” 

“I’m serious.”

“I know.” 

The very first time he touched her, he worried that his hands were too rough with callouses. It was something that weighed heavy on this mind, so much so that it may have affected his performance. If she noticed, she didn’t say anything about it. She was too polite to do things like that, so of course she wouldn’t. 

Sometimes he questioned why she stayed with someone who couldn’t relax. She pressed her delicate fingers into the muscles of his back and joked that the tension could crack a diamond. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, allowing himself to fall deeper into the softness of her. This time, his  hands tangled into her thick curls as he placed kisses along the curve of her throat. She giggled, and it sounded like a melodic bell. 

He wanted to shield her from the world he came from. Women like her couldn’t handle the brutality of his life, and he wouldn’t blame them. It just meant that he didn’t spend much time getting invested. When she asked to see him fight, he shut her down immediately, claiming that it wasn’t her scene. It resulted in a small argument, and she conceded. But it was a hollow victory when he came home to an empty apartment. Eventually he offered a compromise: she could watch the match from home. It was the only way he could stomach it--he couldn’t bear to imagine her face in the crowd as he used the hands she loved for violence. 

And then he lost. 

And he came home bitter and tired. She reached up to brush his hair from his swollen eye and he flinched away from her before excusing himself to go to the bathroom. As soon as he found the strength to confront her, she pressed a bag of frozen peas to his face in an effort to bring the swelling down. He protested. She underestimated how much battering he could take, and he told her as much, forcing a grin on his split lips. 

“I’m a big boy,” he semi-joked, “I’ll be alright.” 

He wouldn’t touch her that night. He couldn’t. His knuckles were bruised, and his mouth was bloody. He was angry about losing, and he didn’t want to be held or kissed. Instead he spent the night on the couch, watching footage of his father in his prime. Every time she checked on him, he murmured that he’d be in bed soon, only choosing to go to bed when he was sure she was asleep and wouldn’t ask him questions. 

The second time she watches him fight, she calls him as soon as its over. The high of victory doubles when he hears her voice, and he just wants to go home to her.

“You did so well, baby!” She exclaims, “I’m so proud of you. We have to celebrate!” 

 Instead the crew took him to a bar without her. He lost count of how much whiskey he drank, how many girls he ignored, how many pats on the back he received from strangers. And as the night progressed, and the alcohol wore off,  the guilt hit him like a freight train. 

When he finally arrived home, she was asleep on the couch, curled up in one of his gym hoodies that fit snugly in some places and baggy in others. For once, he was glad he sobered up before he came home. He didn’t want to forget this image. He picked her up, and she mumbled tiredly into his shoulder. 

“You didn’t come home...” she sighed.

“I tried. I’m sorry.” 

He removed his liquor stained shirt and jeans, and crawled into bed with her, placing kisses on her forehead. 

“Don’t leave me behind, okay?” she said. He wasn’t sure what she meant. Maybe she was talking in her sleep. He swallowed hard and held her close.

“I won’t.” 

The third time she watches him fight, he loses again. And she watches him shrink into himself, live on national television. He came home bruised and battered, but he forced a smile on his face when she greeted him at the door. It didn’t meet his eyes, and she noticed. She made an attempt to ask if he was okay, and as usual he brushed it off as just disappointment. 

It was more than that, and they both knew it. 

Once again, he refused to touch her. She reached out to rub his back as he passed her in the kitchen, and he flinched, his shoulders tensing up. 

“What’s wrong?” She asked with pleading eyes, “Does something hurt?” 

He hesitated and sighed, “A little.” 

That was a start.

He held her hand as she led him to the bathroom, and he effortlessly lifted her onto the countertop so that they were eye-level. 

“Let me look at you,” she gently commanded, which brought a small spark of amusement to his eyes. He couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his lips.

“So you’re going to play doctor now?”

“Shush,” she cupped his face in her hands and kissed his crooked nose. 

She applied ointment to the cuts on his knuckles and wrapped them up with a kiss. His heart melted. “Looks good,” he said, flexing his hand, “I might have to let you in the locker room before the matches.” 

She smiled brightly at the compliment, “See! I can help, sometimes. You should let me do this more often. Y’know?” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, “Didn’t I tell you not to leave me behind? Let me take care of you, August.” 

Something crossed his features. It was the first time she’d ever seen it.

“Fuck, I love you so much.” He confessed, grasping her face in his hands.

He pressed a long kiss to her soft lips. For once, he willed himself to forget the events of the night. He wrapped her thighs around his hips and sighed into her mouth. She felt his heartbeat thud rapidly against her chest, and his breathing picked up. Suddenly she felt the wetness on her cheeks. 

“Babe,” she tried to pull away, but he moved to kiss down her neck, “Baby...”

He said nothing but pulled her closer to rest his head on her shoulder. Suddenly he hyperventilated and his body shook with sobs. Despite his comparatively massive frame, he felt so small in her arms as she held him and let him cry. 

--

It took some time to open up. She made the suggestion based on her own experiences, but it was ultimately his decision to take the leap. He was uncomfortable. He didn’t really like talking. But he was tired of feeling angry all the goddamn time. 

“Why are you a boxer?”

“I guess it seemed like the best case scenario? I’ve always been a good fighter. I might as well get paid to punch people in the face. It’s a better use of my time and energy.” And his anger. But that didn’t seem like something he wanted to admit. He didn’t want the guy to think he was a lunatic with violence issues. 

“How do you feel in the ring?” 

“I don’t know. Fine, I guess. Sometimes it just feels like a game. Like a strategy thing...I hate losing though.” 

He scribbled something down on his stupid yellow notepad.

“Well, that’s understandable. Losing sucks.” 

“Yeah, but it feels like an extra punch in the gut. I just really hate losing. It makes me feel like I shouldn’t even have my job in the first place.” 

Doctor So-and-So raises his eyebrows behind his thick rimmed glasses. 

“Why do you feel that way?”

“My job is to win matches. What the hell do I have to gain from losing them?” He chuckled bitterly, “I used to just let my cuts and bruises fester. Just so I’d remember how much the shit sucks and I won’t lose again. I feel like I only lose when I forget what losing feels like.” 

There’s a heavy pause after that admission, and the therapist scribbles something else down. 

“August, there’s no shame in failure. Why do you feel like you should punish yourself for human error?” 

“How else will I improve?” He automatically said. Then he caught himself, dropping his head in his hands, “Fuck. Fuck that old bastard to hell. I thought that shit was normal,” he admitted. “I thought every guy dealt with this. It helped you build a thicker skin. I don’t think I’d have the career I do if it wasn’t for him. I always think, ‘whatever these guys hit me with, I’ve dealt with worse from my old man’.” 

That was the first time he’d admitted any of this aloud. The feeling was strange, like a small weight lifted from his shoulders. It wasn’t much, but it was something...

[fivelakesinwriting]

Out of Character (Rafe Cameron) Part 13

Author's Notes: I'm sorry it's been so long since this was updated, but I promise it's been on my mind. I'm hoping the next one is just gonna be BANG- BOOM! Keep you on the edge of your seat. Please let me know what you think if you have a moment, this story is like my baby. Thank you xoxo

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Violence, Mentions of drugs.

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

The Mercer house was quiet, and all the lights but one were off. Not even the porch light was on to light his way, but JJ knew the property like the back of his hand. He had been around there too many times to count.

JJ crouched down around the neatly trimmed hedges and flower beds at the edge of the property, his hood pulled over his head and his camouflage mask pulled over his mouth. He stayed low in the bushes as he waited for that light to go off, his breath low and steady.

"What the fuck are you doing? He will kill you." A voice whispered harshly behind him, strong hands on his shoulders.

"John B, don't sneak up on me like that." JJ breathed out, his hands reaching back to grab his friend's wrists off his shoulders.

"I saw you try and sneak out earlier, figured you would be coming here. Try something stupid or heroic." John B mumbled as he crouched down in the bushes with JJ.

"Why can't stupid and heroic be the same thing?" JJ asked as he kept his gaze on the light in the Mercer house.

"Not if it gets you killed by your hookup's dad."

"She's not a hookup, man. She's my -" JJ stopped, his bottom lip tucked too tight between his teeth as he thought about all the things Gemma could be to him.

"She's what, JJ?" John B questioned firmly, his voice getting too loud for JJ's liking in the silent bushes.

"Last time I checked she was Rafe Cameron's girlfriend. Not yours. So I don't know what you're doing here with a crowbar, dressed up like a bank-robber." John B continued as he pulled at the top of JJ's hood.

"Stop, alright. I didn't ask you to come here with me. So if you're gonna do this now, then leave." JJ snarled as he grabbed at John B's forearm to stop how he grabbed at his clothes.

"I don't want to watch you get tossed away in juvie or watch Anthony Mercer put you in the ground because of some girl, JJ." John B replied as he grabbed at JJ's shoulders, giving him a firm shake.

"Shut up. The light's off." JJ whispered, his hand covering John B's mouth while the other pointed at the room on the first floor of the Mercer house.

"What light?" John B grumbled into JJ's hand as he looked back towards the house.

"Anthony's office. He's going to bed, or at least he's not downstairs anymore. It's quiet on the Western front. I'm going in. Keep watch out here. Sometimes he goes out for a cigar at the end of the night." JJ muttered as he grabbed the crowbar at his feet and made his way towards the the side of the house, where the lattice he so frequently used waited for him.

"JJ, the house faces the East! And what am I supposed to do if I see him? JJ, answer me!" John B called out with a harsh whisper through the bushes.

"Don't wait for me." JJ replied under his breath as he hooked the crowbar high on the lattice and began to climb, stepping over the board the had begun to wear beneath use.

JJ reached the top of the lattice where her room was, placed the crowbar gently on the flat roof and looked inside the window to see Gemma laid on her bed reading a book by a headlight. He rapped his knuckles on the windowpane softly, then brought his fingers to his lips when she spotted him.

"I'm breaking you out." He whispered as he held up the crowbar.

She mouthed "loud" and pointed to her ears as she climbed off the bed and walked towards the windowsill to stand in front of where he crouched.

"I've done it a hundred times. He won't hear it. Stand back though." JJ mumbled as he hooked the claw of the crowbar into the first nail that held the window sealed, and started to pull.

Gemma took a step back from the window, and plugged her ears waiting for something to break as JJ twisted and pulled at the nail stuck in the wood. He tugged the first one out with no issue, holding it up in triumph before he tossed it off the roof.

As JJ worked on the second nail, Gemma hurried around her room quickly packing a bag with the essentials for the next day or so. She had no idea where JJ was taking her - she assumed John B's.

"Psst. JJ! We gotta go, man." John B called from the grass, his feet sinking in the freshly watered flower beds.

"I'm not done yet." JJ replied impatiently as he wiggled at the nail, using all his strength to tug it out.

"Okay, well. The light just turned on again, and a car is pulling up. So we have to go." John B spat as he shifted his weight in the mud.

"I'm not leaving without Gemma. Would you leave without Sarah?" JJ sighed with frustration as he finally pulled the nail out. He breathed heavily through his nostrils, his eyes flickering to the girl in the window.

One more to go.

JJ heard John B curse under his breath, but he didn't protest any further. JJ hooked the crowbar in the third and final nail and began to pull. It felt easier than the last one and he sent a small, silent prayer up to whatever was above and yanked. He let out the smallest triumphant laugh when it came out, almost like a knife through hot butter. He pulled the window up and reached for Gemma's hand.

"Let's go, pretty girl. Get your things, I'm taking you home with me." JJ smiled as he reached into her bedroom, the cool air conditioning, courtesy of the Mercer's generator, hitting his skin.

Gemma slung her backpack of her shoulder, grabbed JJ's hand and let him pool her out on to the flat roof through the window. JJ wrapped an arm around her waist tightly, keeping her close as he looked over the edge of the second story, thinking about his next move.

"John B, catch." JJ grabbed her bag off her shoulder and tossed it off the side of the house to John B waiting in the mud.

"The lattice won't hold us both at the same time, so I can't put you on my back. I'll go down first, watch how I do it, and then I'll brace you on the way down. I won't let you fall." JJ whispered as he placed a hand on her cheek then quickly made the move to crawl down the lattice. He knew they were pressed for time, and was surprised Anthony had not come up to check on Gemma already.

JJ quickly crawled across the roof towards the lattice and began to make his way down, careful of the worn beam, then hopped down into the mud with John B.

"You're a fucking idiot." John B muttered under his breath as he pushed Gemma's backpack into JJ's chest.

"Just keep watch, man." JJ grumbled as he slid the bag over his shoulders, then held his hands up to brace Gemma as she slowly made her way down the lattice.

"You've got it, baby. Just a little further. Watch that one there, it's almost broken." JJ coaxed, his hands outstretched as far as he could in the event she fell.

He grabbed her hips when she was within arms reach and pulled her down, placing her feet on the grass and away from the mud. He took a large step out of the flower beds and grabbed her hand.

"We gotta go." JJ breathed out as he looked around the still dark property.

"Yeah, we do. That car is coming up the driveway really fast." John B stated as he pointed to the end of the driveway, bright lights illuminating their faces.

"That's Ward's car." Gemma muttered with a squeeze of JJ's hand as she tugged him back towards the brush he had come in through.

"Why the fuck is Ward coming here so late at night?" JJ questioned as he pulled his mask down off his mouth.

"I don't know, but we have to leave. Now. I don't trust whatever him and my dad are doing. JJ, please." Gemma begged as she continued to walk backwards with a tug of his hand.

"Yeah, let's get the fuck out of here." JJ grumbled as he began to walk quickly with Gemma towards the brush, tugging John B by the collar of his shirt.

As the three young adults fled the property, the lights behind them flicked on, illuminating the property.

"Maybank! Routledge! I see you!" Anthony Mercer yelled from the porch just as Ward Cameron pulled the SUV up to the front of the drive.

"Go, JJ! Go!" John B yelled as the three of them took of running into the brush, Anthony Mercer's yells a distant cry beneath their feet.

JJ pulled Gemma through the brush as quickly as he could without dragging her, John B pulling up the rear. The three of them ran as quickly as they could away from the Mercer house, JJ leading the way towards the back roads where, hopefully, Anthony wouldn't think to come after them.

"JJ, that was by far one of the stupidest things you have ever done." John B panted as they ran out onto a gravel road and slowed to a walk. John B grabbed at his sides, pinching at a cramp as he hitched at the waist.

"I'm not just gonna let him keep her in there. He had three huge nails in her fucking window. He was on patrol, and who knows what shady shit he's doing with Ward Cameron." JJ replied with a huff as he tugged his hood off his head with his free hand, and let go of Gemma's hand.

"I'm just saying you're being reckless, JJ." John B stated as he stood up straight once more and looked at his best friend, then the girl standing behind him. He didn't want to put Gemma in an awkward position, but he had been put in the most awkward position of all just then.

"We're so passed reckless, J.B. This whole summer so far has been reckless. You dating Sarah Cameron? Reckless. Us going after the gold on the Merchant? Reckless. Wake up, man." JJ glared as he ran his hands through his hair then turned on his heel quickly to start walking again.

John B pursed his lips as he looked from Gemma to the spot JJ had been standing. He stuffed his hands into his pockets as the guilt began to set in his gut. He gave a soft nod at the girl before he began to walk again, kicking the gravel along the way.

They heard the sounds of the engines before they saw them. The familiar engines of the dirt bikes revved throughout the brush but no one could see them. Gemma reached for John B's sleeve, clutching the boy close.

"You hear that, right?" Gemma muttered as she tugged the curly haired boy close, her fingers digging into his skin over his sweater.

"Yeah. I do." John B nodded, his head on a swivel as he narrowed his eyes to try and see better in the dark to try and find the source of the noise. John B stopped walking, letting Gemma squeeze the life out of his forearm. If he was honest with himself, it made him feel a little comfort in that situation as the engines approached.

"It's probably nothing. Just kids." Gemma whispered as her fingers reached down for his wrist, and gripped.

"JJ, do you hear that?" John B called as he balled his fists, his heart beat so loud in his ears he almost didn't hear JJ respond with a gruff yes.

JJ stopped in his tracks a few feet ahead of them, the bikes so close they could hear the gravel being crunched beneath the tires. JJ turned around in time to see the headlamp of the dirt bike come at him straight on, his instincts telling him to swing the crowbar at the oncoming bike. He swung, two hands on the bottom of the crowbar, like the baseball bats his cousin taught him to swing, and hit the motorcyclist off and into the ditch.

"Oh, shit! Damn, Country Club. You good?" The other bike stopped, removed their helmet and revealed Barry. His silver tooth gleaming in the late night moonlight.

"What the fuck, Maybank! You could've killed me!" Rafe Cameron roared while he pulled himself up from the ditch, tugging his helmet off his head and tossing it aside.

"Me? What the fuck are you two doing out here? Rolling up on unsuspecting pedestrians in the middle of the night, Cameron? Shit's creepy, dude." JJ replied as he extended the crowbar towards the taller boy's chest to keep him at a distance.

"Got a text from my dad saying a bunch of Pogue scum were trespassing on the Mercer property again. Destroyed the windows and kidnapped my girlfriend." Rafe snarled as he knocked the crowbar from JJ's hands and took the few steps towards him to stand toe to toe with him.

"So you and your boyfriend rode up to - what? Kick my ass again like you did at Midsummers? You're predictable, Rafe." JJ scoffed as he pulled his hood off his head, his eyes scanning over Rafe Cameron. There wasn't much of a height difference between them, but Rafe used his height to his advantage. His chest puffed out, arms flexed to seem intimidating - and to anyone other than JJ Maybank, he would be.

"Gemma, get your shit. We're leaving." Rafe growled as he kept his eyes fixed on the blonde boy in front of him.

"No. You're not taking her anywhere. Especially not with your dealer buddy. That's insane. Why don't you come the fuck down from your high, and you two can fight this out tomorrow. You know where I live, right?" John B stated firmly, shaking his wrist free from Gemma's death grip to stand between the two boys.

John B wasn't Gemma Mercer's biggest fan, nor did he like Rafe Cameron. At all. But he wasn't about to let the girl his best friend had fallen disgustingly in love with get on the back of a dirt bike with her actual boyfriend, who was seemingly high on coke, and ride off into the night. He and every one around them had made that mistake with Gemma and Rafe too many times.

"Oh, Routledge. Perfect timing. My dad wanted me to let you know that he has something you've been looking for, and he wanted to thank you." Rafe replied with raised eyebrows and a grin as a slapped a hand on John B's shoulder.

"What is he talking about, J.B? What does Ward have?" JJ asked, his heart racing as he looked from Rafe, to John B and over to Gemma who stood a few feet away still. She looked so small, so scared over there.

"The gold. JJ, he took the gold!" John B cried as he tugged at his hair then turned to his best friend, his hands on his shoulders.

Rafe pinched his nostrils as he walked away from the two Pogues as they yelled back and forth about a plan. He made his way over to his girlfriend, who still cowered in the darkness near the opposite side of the road away from the raucous.

"You okay?" Rafe questioned gruffly, his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah. Are you? JJ hit you really hard."

"I'll fucking live. Let's go, Gemma. I've got a place for us, just us." Rafe nodded as he reached his hand out to her, palm up showing his scrapes from the fall.

Gemma gently placed her hand within Rafe's bloodied one, letting him pull her towards his bike. She looked over at JJ and John B who were still in a full blown panic over the location of the gold. Rafe pulled his bike upright again, handing her the spare helmet then helped her on the back of the bike.

"Wait! Gemma, you can't leave!" JJ cried as he ran after his girl through the dust kicked up from Rafe's back tire.

"Tough break, Pogue. He took your gold and your girl? Shit." Barry scoffed with a shake of his head, kicking up the stand of his bike and then taking off without another word to the two boys still stranded in the brush.

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[wesawbears]

Posting here in its entirety now that it’s complete. Featuring the favors Neil used to get Andrew to go to Aaron’s wedding, Neil being a menace, and Andrew and Aaron talking, as well as Andrew submitting to the mortifying ordeal of being known.

Enjoy!

--

Andrew shut the door with his foot, letting his bag sit by the door for a minute. He knew Neil would call out his hypocrisy the moment he saw,considering their previous conflicts about what apartment etiquette entailed, but for now, what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Walking into the kitchen, he set his keys down on the table and scratched at Sir’s chin where he was headbutting against his hand. He stopped when he saw something unfamiliar on the fridge and walked over to inspect. They weren’t the type to keep mementos or reminders there; the dark blue stood out against the bareness there.

In loopy script, it read: “Save the Date! October 21st. Aaron Minyard and Katelyn Winters”.

He began peeling it off the fridge. Neil had wanted him to see it, but there was no way. Just seeing their smiling faces made something surge up in his stomach. He had let Aaron go years ago, but he never said he had to be happy about it, and he certainly had said nothing about supporting Katelyn or their relationship, the same as Aaron had never said anything to Neil that wasn’t strictly required for Exy. He could tolerate talking to Aaron, more than he had when they’d been in the same state, but that didn’t mean they did things like this. Nicky’s wedding was bad enough.

“Oh, you found it.”

Andrew turned, determined to not give Neil the satisfaction of seeing that he’d startled him. The slight smirk told him he hadn’t succeeded, but he kept his face placid and unbothered. “So you put it there on purpose? I assumed it had been put there by mistake.”

“No. I put it there so I’d remember to put it on the calendar...eventually.”

“What for?” Andrew asked, tilting his head in mock confusion. Better to not give him the satisfaction..

Neil raised his eyebrow, a look of condescension that had Andrew’s hackles up. “Because I’m going? I assumed you would too, but I can go alone.”

It was true. Neil was an adult who could make his own choices and Andrew wouldn’t stop him from going. But somehow he doubted that Neil would leave it there. The very fact that Neil had taken the time to put it on the fridge meant that this was premeditated and that, likely, this was an argument he wasn’t going to win. That didn’t mean that Andrew didn’t intend to gain as much ground as he could.

“So eager to go play with your friends?”

“Our friends.”

“Presumptuous.”

“You’re right. Aaron will be there, considering it’s his wedding. So he would be just yours then.”

“Aaron is no longer my responsibility. He can fuck up his life however he wants.”

Neil leaned against the kitchen counter, staring back at Andrew with the same level stare. “What do you want for it?”

Andrew held himself against the weight of being known that well. He kept his voice casual. “Skipping ahead so soon? You haven’t appealed to the fact that he’s my brother yet.”

Neil huffed. “Wouldn’t work. I’ve already worked through all your arguments. Had about a week to practice.”

Andrew drummed his fingers on the table. It was unnerving, as always, to know that Neil knew him well enough to anticipate his arguments, to have already taken the time to work this through in his head. It was as irritating as it was calming, in a way only Neil could manage to be.  “You assume you have something worth that much to me.”

“Don’t I?”

“This conversation is starting to bore me. Get to the point.”

“I can sign the papers. One phone call and I’m transferred to Chicago. Same schedule, same weekends off. No more watching each other’s games on TV.”

Andrew worked his jaw. Neil’s status states away had been a source of more irritation than he wanted to admit. It had taken him a long time to be able to admit that Neil was a part of his life that was maybe permanent, as close to permanent as he could allow himself, and now that he had, he felt every mile like a slow healing bruise. Neil’s contract was due for renewal, but Andrew’s team conveniently needed a striker. No coach would turn down one of the best strikers in the game. It was the one thing worth saying yes to and Neil knew it.

“Yes or no?”

Andrew knew that Neil would drop it the moment Andrew said no. Neil didn’t pick fights he couldn’t win. He was only asking because he knew from the start Andrew would agree.

“I’ll go.”

Neil grinned, and moved closer, hovering his hand close to Andrew’s. Andrew took the next step and linked their fingers together. For once, Neil didn’t push his luck with some smartass comment, but Andrew could practically see him biting it back. 

“What?”

“Nothing. I’m just glad you’ll be there.”

“Don’t say stupid shit,” he countered, pulling Neil in. 

“Yes,” Neil said, before Andrew could ask.

He pressed him to the counter and kissed him, letting the invitation fall to the ground.

--

It takes another favor for Neil to convince him that threatening Katelyn at the wedding wasn’t worth the trouble. Andrew severely disagreed, but pushing the issue wasn’t worth it, when Neil would pull back on both their agreements if he did. He didn’t linger on what that meant, on the fact that somewhere along the way he’d decided that keeping Neil meant more to him than settling past scores, and more to him than his brother. He wasn’t sure if that was healthy or not, but healthy had never been in his lexicon either way.

Neil still looked like a disgruntled cat any time he had to wear a suit, but Andrew had picked out a nice fitting one for him years ago, and he takes a moment to appreciate his handiwork. Neil is oblivious as always, though, and it takes him about two minutes of trying to get his tie right until Andrew can’t take it anymore.

“Impossible,” he huffs, and moves closer to secure it properly. Neil grins down at him and Andrew still feels the urge to push his face away, not knowing what Neil finds there to look at. “Staring.”

“Says the man who was literally standing there for two whole minutes.” Not as oblivious then.

Andrew doesn’t dignify that with a response, turning with a hum and heading towards the door. He’s timed it so they’ll be just close enough to on time for the ceremony that they can slip in the back. He lets the hum of the highway drown out the tight feeling in his chest.

When they get there, there’s an annoying sign that says “We’re all family! Pick a seat, not a side!” and Andrew considers walking out, but Neil is swept up by Matt and carried away, so Andrew has to follow, despite his misgivings. Nowhere in their agreement did it state that Andrew had to pay attention to the ceremony, so he tunes out and recites some book he has memorized to himself instead. 

It becomes painfully obvious at the reception that Neil is keeping an eye on him, so Andrew leaves him with Kevin, fighting over something inane and exy-related, and goes outside for a cigarette. He steps onto the terrace, only to find his brother leaning against a fence.

“I don’t think this is how weddings work,” he says as a greeting.

Aaron glances up, scowl as familiar as a mirror. “I told Katelyn I needed a minute.

Andrew nods and leans against the fence, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Didn’t think you were going to come.”

“Thank Neil.”

“After you thank Katelyn. It was her idea to send you the invitation. I told her not to bother.”

“And yet here I am.”

“Here you are,” Aaron agrees, leaning further back against the fence.

Andrew lets the conversation drop for a moment. He’s about to head back inside, when he hears, “Why?”

He turns back. “Why what?”

“Why did you come? We both know Neil isn’t here as a favor to me. So why would he think it’s important for you to be here?”

And wasn’t that the million dollar question. Why had he bothered to come, when he and Aaron only spoke a handful of times a year? 

“I don’t know,” he answers truthfully.

Annoyingly, Aaron scoffs. “Yes you do.”

“Enlighten me then,” he plays along.

Aaron shrugs. “I didn’t say I knew why. I just know that you don’t do anything without having some convoluted reason for it.”

“I didn’t know I was coming out here to have a conversation with the cheshire cat.”

Aaron chuckled and the sound was foreign to him. “We’re not 16 anymore. Hell, we’re not 20 anymore. We’re grown up.” He holds his glass up, toasting to nowhere.

“When did you start philosophizing? Andrew asked.

“It’s my wedding day-I’m allowed,” Aaron says, shaking his head.

“You’re so weird,” is all Andrew can think to say.

He looks at Aaron and wonders what he sees. Wonders if he mirror the relaxed posture, the way Aaron looks comfortable in his own skin. He wonders how long it’s been since he woke up screaming, if it’s a dull ache in the back of his mind, or an almost healed bruise, flaring up only when pressed on.

He hears the tell tale sound of heels on cobblestones. “Aaron? Honey, we’re about to cut the- oh.”

He looks up and sees Katelyn, wide-eyed and hesitant. He feels long forgotten anger well up, but thinks of Neil and pushes it down. With a long forgotten salute, he turns and leaves Aaron to his future.

Inside, Neil is leaning against a table, sipping his drink that Andrew can tell he hates. He takes it from him and downs it in a quick swig.

“That was mine,” he complains, nudging Andrew’s hip.

“You were too slow.”

“Everything okay?” he asks.

Andrew looks down at their hands, sees the newly acquired neat letters on the side of Neil’s thumb that match his own and feels something settle back into place. He looks up and past him to where Aaron is laughing while Katelyn puts whipped cream on his nose. 

“Yes or no?” he asks instead.

Neil smirks. “In the middle of their moment?”

“Yes,” he taps Neil’s thumb, “Or no?”

“Yes, Andrew,” he says and pulls him in the rest of the way. He hears Nicky yell something and flips him off. 

He’s okay.

[hotdogct]

under the same sky ||| teaser

“An age where you feel like you could love anyone, where you put everything on the line for the smallest of things. Eighteen. Adults say that it’s an age where we laugh if a leaf tumbles by. But back then, we were more serious than any adult, more intense, and had our strength tested...That was how our eighteen was beginning.”

-Sung Shi-Won, 응답하라 1997.

Synopsis: 1999. Amongst the sea of white raincoats and balloons belonging to Club H.O.T. you befriend Kim Jungwoo - a boy with a secret - who immediately fills your world with vivid color. With the new millennium approaching almost as quickly as high school graduation, your heart belongs to one man only: Kangta. And as his own future looms in the distance, Jungwoo can’t decide if merely idolizes the man, or if he wants to be the next Kangta.

He is certain of one thing, however: he is absolutely smitten by you.

Pairing: Student!Jungwoo x (f) Student!Reader

Genre: late 90′s!au. fluff, slice of life. friends-to-lovers, angst-ish. painful ending, you’ve been warned. 💀 Word Count: 10k++++ (teaser: 1.5k) Release Date: ???

Snoopy0219: how am i going to find you tomorrow! Snoopy0219: should i sing out ‘baaa baaaaa’ like i’m looking for a sheep in a pasture?? Baabaakangta: hahahhahahahahhahahaaaa please Baabaakangta: would you actually?? Snoopy0219: ;) you underestimate me Snoopy0219: do you have a pager?? lets exchange numbers Snoopy0219: or you could dress up as a sheep hehe Snoopy0219: that would be one way to have kangta notice you!!! Baabaakangta: >:( not. funny. Baabaakangta: i’ll be wearing a cow print hat, i’ll have a snoopy related gift sitting outside my bag?? Snoopy0219: okay!! i’ll go up and down the line ‘baa baaaaaaa’ing until i find you!! ^__^ Snoopy0219: see you tomorrow, sheep!!!!!!

You nervously look around as you settle into your spot in line, in no immediate rush to sit down on the hard concrete. While there weren’t many others amongst the crowd, it dawns on you you aren’t the only one sporting a big, fluffy, cow print bucket hat. Thinking back to your conversation with Snoopy the night before, you pull the small dog plush you had bought as a gift for your new friend out of your drawstring bag, making sure it would be visible to anyone passing by. 

Time slowly passes once you sit. At first you’re eager to fidget with your pager - sending a quick ‘8282’ to Snoopy, checking nervously every few minutes for a reply. Eventually the device vibrates in your lap, notifying you that she was on her way. The atmosphere was getting livelier by the minute, with fan groups dispersed neatly all around the perimeter of the arena, identifiable immediately by the color of their balloons and raincoats. Fan club leaders equipped with bullhorns led their respective contingents in song and chants, a preview of the many performances to come later that evening. Club H.O.T. was no exception, with girls going up and down the ever-growing line handing out support goods and spare white balloons, while ‘Hope’ played on repeat through a boombox towards the front of the queue. When you first arrived, the unexpected fervor of fanchants made you flinch, but after a couple of minutes you found yourself joining in, mindlessly adding your voice to the collective. 

All of your senses were overwhelmed. There wasn’t much time for your mind to ruminate anxiously about finally meeting Snoopy face to face. Nothing about her had seemed dangerous - which is why you extended the invite in the first place. On the very slim chance that she turned out to be a creep, she’d be insane to harm you in such a crowded place. You weren’t really worried about getting along with Snoopy - you knew that wouldn’t be a problem from your extensive chat logs. Rather you were terrified of what she would think of you - if she would even want to be your friend after meeting you in person...

“Baa baa?”

Your pulse increases rapidly, hearing the agreed upon saying that you and Snoopy had laughed about last night. But when you stand up and turn around to get a good first look at your new friend, your jaw drops open.

Standing before you, scratch that - above you is a...boy? He towers over you, black hair with messy overgrown bangs that surely had to impact his field of vision, framed in contrast by the hood of his standard issue white raincoat. His features were round - expressive eyes, button nose, full cheeks and chapped lips, currently pressed together and curved upward in a smile. He blinks once, twice, tilts his head slightly to the side, much as a dog might. 

“Baa baa? It’s me, Snoopy.”

Unbelievable, you think to yourself. It takes you a moment to find your voice amidst the living nightmare you suddenly were inhabiting, but you knew you had to be assertive and stand your ground.

“Did she really send her brother to prank me?! Get lost.”

If the boy was insulted, he sure didn’t look it. He was unfazed - the same soft smile remained on his face despite your hostility, as if he was aware of something you weren’t.

“Sheep, it’s really me, honest.” 

“Prove it.”

You regret your words the moment they leave your mouth. Without hesitation or warning, the boy swiftly closes the gap between you two, his face too close for comfort as it grazes past your own; his hot breath tickling your forehead, cheek, and finally your ear, where he whispers:

“I know aaaaallllll about that dream you had the other day, the one where you ran into Kangta at the convenience store and then, you know...~~’ 

Stunned into silence, cheeks-practically-burning-off-of-your-face-they're-so-red, you resist your immediate urge to slap this guy across the face, the nerve of the pervert…! Instead you thrust your arms out, making contact with his chest and successfully managing to push him away. He stumbles two, three steps back, his hands up in defense.

“T-that was in confidence, you jerk!” you stutter out, looking down at the ground and praying your beet red cheeks would calm down sooner rather than later, covering them with your hands.

The boy laughs - rather loudly, melodically, and pulls a pager out of his back pocket. Seconds later, the telltale notification lands on your respective device. The sharp features of your face softened slightly at the realization. Snoopy, he really was...

Lifting your head back up, you scan the boy standing in front of you over once, twice - this time taking notice of his lanky frame, narrow shoulders, tiny waist. Certainly non-threatening, but you’re still skeptical.

“I’m really sorry, it was never my intention to mislead you. Let’s start this over.” the boy clears his throat, and then bows, softly. “It’s nice to meet you! I’m Snoopy, but since that hasn’t really worked out...you can call me by my actual name - it’s Jungwoo.”

“Uh-huh, Jungwoo. Is this how you pick up girls? Chat them up on Club H.O.T. and then-”

“I wasn’t lying about my love for H.O.T.!” He interrupts you, hands waving wildly in the air. “I think they’re the coolest!” 

At this he steps back and begins dancing the all too familiar choreography for “Candy”, singing out loud to the chorus timidly. You dimly recall Snoopy Jungwoo mentioning the hours he would spend learning each new dance routine, and the effort clearly showed - his movements bright and sharp throughout the chorus. You could’ve sworn he was defying gravity when he jumped - you had never seen someone so lightweight on their feet before.

And yet your expression was unreadable - mind a blur on account of the entire situation unfolding in front of you. Jungwoo notices this as he finishes, the smile dropping from his face as he catches his breath. Silence falls briefly between you both.

“...you really think I’d travel all the way here from Gimpo for a joke?”

There was now a tinge of sadness apparent in Jungwoo’s voice, and guilt washes over you in a sudden, cold wave. You can feel his eyes on you, the weight of your initial cruelty and skepticism like a hundred stones in each pocket.

“I love dancing, I love singing,” he continues. “I genuinely think H.O.T. are the best, are the coolest. I’m studying to be an engineer - I love school, I get good grades. Why can’t I enjoy both things?” When you fail to come up with any semblance of a retort, Jungwoo sighs, shifts his weight back and forth on his hips. 

“That's why I didn’t tell you the truth. It’s why I’m here now. If word got out back home that I was a card carrying Club H.O.T. member...” he fishes around for his wallet in his back pocket, fumbles through the card slots until finding his membership card, showing it to you with shaky hands, “I wouldn’t hear the end of it.”

There, printed in clean handwriting, was his name: 김정우.

You believed him by now - honestly you had the moment your pager went off while he was standing right in front of you. Snoopy, Jungwoo - whatever they wanted to call themselves - was your friend. What difference did his gender make, anyways? With a firm mental reminder to not share any of your dirty daydreams about Kangta going forward, you decided to finally drop your guard. It was time to have some fun.

“Some advice?” Jungwoo looks up at you upon hearing your voice, in the middle of putting his membership card back in his wallet. “If you don’t want your friends to find that card, maybe don’t carry it in your wallet.”

Jungwoo struggles for a moment before figuring out you were screwing with him. Once he puts two and two together, it doesn’t take long for his boisterous, musical laugh you heard minutes prior to fill the space between you and him, head thrown back to the late afternoon sky. It was now his turn to feel flustered - although his cheeks seemed to take on a much more flattering pink tone to them when embarrassed, a trait you were quickly envious of. An unspoken concession occurs between the two of you as you sit down.

To Jungwoo, however - it felt much more like falling.

authors note: my first ‘big’ fic!!! my baby!!! she’s very much still a work in progress, but after nearly 2 months of wanting to commit to writing something longer and then sitting on my bum lol. this is what i’ve got so far, but i do have a full outline and i’m chipping away at it day by day. any kind of feedback or general excitement for this would be so appreciated 🥺

[oh-for-fic-sake]

April Teaser Collection!

Here is the  latest peek at my stuff sitting on my pc that will hopefully be finished over the next few weeks. I hope you find something that tickles your pickle. below the cut are The Stand In, It’s A Match, Deliverance, Mans False God, Gloria Regali.

But instead of being managing to be all sneaky and close the door hiding henry in your room like a naughty teen with her boyfriend Henry was up and awake.

"Aha! Gotcha! Who said you could sneak out of bed this morning baby? I was lonely with out you~" you screamed and just about jumped out of your skin as Henry wrapped himself around you from behind dragging you back into him, nuzzling into your neck pressing an open mouthed kiss to it. Your shout of surprize had silenced both of the women's chatter making them jump, even Kal came darting back in gruffing as he leapt up the stairs heckles and tail raised and growling on high alert. Fuck.

"now why cant i get a good morning like that?" Tee giggled crossing her arms at the both of you, your mother eyed you both with a knowing grin and hummed agreeing. Henry snapped his head up and gulped. Fuck. You and henry stood still for a few seconds far to shocked at being caught with your pants down so to speak. You shifted on your feet but henry held you still hands on your hips using you to shield his nude form from your guests he hadn't known were there.

"O-oh shit- err good morning ladies!" He said turning red his voice higher than usual as he shuffled backward taking you with him. As he tried saving his modesty, he didn't take the covers with him because- well he had thought it was only you on the bus!

"I err- shit i didn't see you there... Sorry about almost flashing you both like that..." he said with an uneven tone tip toeing back into the room, still holding you at his crotch hiding the once half hard- now softening cock.

"Good girl, where's your mother? Hmm? Your not supposed to be out and about alone are you?" Henry spoke slowly digging his fingers into the dense soft fur managing to find and hold the collar below the thick fur, then he leant down scooping up the lead what was still attached to her. Kal grunted and sat on the floor leaning his weight on henry's leg. Henry looked down and patted Kal scratching his ears chuckling. Kal's eyes still wide taking in the larger dog in front of him, it was comical Kal was used to being the biggest bear... but he was a good four to five inches shorted then this magnificent grey floofer.

"Kal, you okay there bud?... year she really is big isn't she, you best behave don't want her telling you off do you?" He spoke slowly calming both pups... and gosh did Kal look like a pup compared to her. Slowly both dogs leaned towards one another sniffing the air then with a happy yip Amii began licking kal... like a pup. Henry burst out laughing it was too sweet watching Amii sniff around his bear, whilst Kal sent his human a look clearly pleading for help as this new huge female smothered him with affection. But henry wasn't falling for it, Kal was wagging his tail just as excited to make a new freind.

Honestly henry was glad, akitas were fickle. They either liked you or they didn't. He got the feeling Kal would like this gentle giant for now he was a little awe struck over being smaller then something.

"Clark? Clark come and help me- I cant reach the milk! Its at the back again!" Martha said quietly you smiled. It took a lot of coaxing but you had indeed tried what Clark had explained as 'cow juice' and had developed a taste for it. So Martha had promised you milk every day if you liked. Which you did like. A lot. Clark pressed another kiss to you and walked off towards the milk refrigerators expecting you to follow.

You made to follow but a sweet scent hit you and you stopped mid step. It was wonderful and ripe, sweet and succulent. You pivoted and followed without much thought. Your feet found there way twisting around the display of 'leafy greens' to a bright colourful isle. You salivated at the smells. There were so many intoxicating scents you didn't know what to look at first.

You pressed a hand on a small net package full of strange green fuzzy balls. Kiwi's? You read and scrunched your face up at the peculiar name. Then plucked the bag up and held it to your nose sniffing. They smelled divine, like a type of food from home. Okriin a small soury sweet treat given to children on their birthing date. You sniffed again and almost cried. It was so similar but so different sweeter and fuller in the scent. You cautiously sniffed again and closed your eyes before tentativly prodding it with your tongue wanting to see if it tasted the same.

"y/n? Y/n?!- oh god there you are? What are you doing? You almost gave me a heart attack" Clark said racing towards you his mother behind him with the cart. He slid to a stop and blinked at you. As you scrunched up your nose.

"the texture of these are... Not very nice?" you said naively moving for the fruit again sticking your tongue out once more trying to discern if it was edible like this. Clark moved quickly gasping holding your hands that had the.. Kiwi's in it.

"no no.. No we- you don't eat them like that... You peel them and eat the inside, and we don't lick things in the shop okay?" he explained plucking the fruit from you and placed them in the cart, Martha chuckled into her chest she couldn't help it, you were extremely cute.

Kal proped himself up on his side and smiled sadly nodding. He knew. He knew the state they found you in was their fault. Thats why he was so adamant to look after you now to... make amends in a way. You'd proved you could barely survive on your own. But Kal was also angry; angry that you'd been abandoned, he had thought Bruce would atleast put something in place to look after you but he hadn't. Bruce hadn't helped you, he to busy saving his own skin and trying to fight him and the new regime. But he was more angry at himself you had been alone, with no means to protect yourself or really survive. And he should have known! He should have realised you were scared, that you would stay away from the new citizen system he put in place. That you'd fear being caught and killed like many of the others.

"I know, but we have her now... its going to be better now, we are going to right the wrongs love... we can give her the best life  look after her and nothing will ever hurt our little one again" his voice was strained his face in firm lines, hard and stone like. He truly was a god, carved in marble. Perfect. Diana nodded laying back curling herself around you. Kal drew a deep breath and shuffled closer winding his arms around his family, holding both his girls.

He chuckled when you grunted pouting in your sleep when he sandwiched you between Diana and himself. Trying to wriggle fee from the group hug.  But once again you settled after a few moments relaxing as you were now being warmed from both sides a small smile graced your face. Kal grinned and nuzzled the back of your head pressing chaste kisses to your bed ridden hair, he felt at peace having you here with him. And he meant what he said no one will ever touch his little babygirl.

"what wrong? Whats going on?" you spoke quietly trying not to stare at the clearly sick monarch. You didn't want to see it, you didn't want to think of the implications of the illness he was clearly suffering.

"nothing gets past you does it my girl?" your father spoke jovially trying to lighten the mood but failed miserably, his chuckles dying off fairly quickly and he heaved a sigh. Your uncle broke the silence and your fathers hand slid to yours under the table and squeezed your fingers tightly trying to reassure you.

"I have summoned you here to discuss something that... Is very serious and the outcome will change the lives of many people. This is something.. I wished I could hold off but I'm afraid I cannot firefly" you bit your lip and braced yourself. This was bad news you could tell. A part of you thought for a moment of marriage, your gut churned at the thought and you felt sick all of a sudden. Where you being married off as a pawn? It was likely, it still happened even in this day and age it was just covered up with fairytale romance... Story book meetings and courtships, when in reality you were told that your to marry and that was the end of it.

"Y/n you are royalty. You were born in to a royal blood line that has ruled over this kingdom for nearly four centuries... And now it is time for you to take your place within it and do your duty" your father stated in his 'work' voice for the time being he was not your father, he was a prince. Heir to the throne and head of your family. And you were to listen and obey.

"You want to give me duties as a working royal?" you said sitting straighter only quivering slightly. You dreaded this, the publicity the duty and responsibility that you'd managed to avoid so far. But you knew one day you would have to take your place.

"yes dear. We need you. Now" your father said urgently, but there was something off. Like he was holding back, fearfull in a sense and it was not like him.

"Of course i will. Father I'm no fool I understand what my position requires of me and i will serve my country. You need only ask and I will obey. I only ask that i be given time to sort things out with the university security and such would need to be increased if they are having a working royal on campus-"

"I'm afraid its not as simple as that we... Are asking you to put your studying off" your uncle interrupted you making you frown. What? You furrowed your brow and made to shake your head but paused. It made sense... If you were to come and take on duties then the media may go wild and cause an uproar... They could cause issues on campus

"How long for?" you asked trying your hardest not to frown at your father and uncle

"Indefinitely.." the king replied holding your gaze firmly. it was then you knew this was serious, more so then anything you’d experienced before.

[honestsycrets]

Never and Always II: A Cold Bath.

❛ pairing | ivar x reader

❛ type | multi

❛ summary | hvitserk wants to take an ice bath. oleg questions the reader about england.

❛  tags | verbal arguments, fear of Ivar, reader attempts to jump in sea, athelstansdaughter!reader, possible triangles, ivar isn’t the villain, implied previous ivar x reader, nsfw-borederline, oblivious hvitserk

The ice is frosty under your ass. A circle of ice had been cut, as you were told, for Oleg’s beautiful wife. After she was done with it, Hvitserk had this great idea. He slung his forest green tunic to the ground and unraveled his pants, all while you held your face between your fingertips. His hands ran together as he warmed himself up from the cold that slurried through the air toward his pale cheeks.

“What are you hiding for?” he laughs.

He’s in. You hear his body dip in-- but more than that, you feel his large hands on your calves, working up your dress from your knees. You squeak and peek through your eyes. His broad shoulders look… you gasp in a breath. He’s beautiful under the warm light of your room, when he’s pulling on his tunic, but better like this. When his blotchy and black tattoos are complemented by the frosty air. His hacksilver pendant rests on his hirsute chest. Just waiting for you to join in.

“Hvitserk, don’t--” you squeak, finding that his hands have left for the many ties on your sides. “I don’t have anything under this!”

He glances around. The unmoving guards are turned around. Like anyone would care to watch you. You might be a princess: but you’re far removed from the lines of royalty by which name you claimed.

“Since when have you cared?” Hvitserk mumbles, working them free. “Lift your hips.”

You obey. He adds another piece of clothing to the pile to the left of him, averting his eyes to yours. Was he looking? As Hvitserk offers up his battle-worn hands to yours, you realize he isn’t. He helps you scoot off the ledge and into the waiting waters-- and into his arms. Your chest bumps into his, cool waters hardening your nipples into erect peaks.

“It’s cold--” you excuse, setting your hand on top of his chest for support. You can’t help yourself: you swathe your fingers over his hacksilver pendant, tracing the golden corners of it nestled between golden hairs. His eyes linger on your finger. “I’m surprised you still have this.”

“Why?”

You press your lips together. “Paris was a long time ago, Hvitserk.”

He urges you back against the wall of ice to allow for some well-deserved distance between your bodies. You’re at a lack for his warmth, the way his hairy chest felt against your breast, or the way you had to ignore his nether regions as he swam in place.

“Not in my mind. In my mind, it was a day ago,” Hvitserk reaches for a pitcher of mead. How it isn’t iced over by now, you’re not sure. He gives you a cup and takes one for himself. “Have you and Ivar…”

“No,” you cut him off. “Not after he left my room.”

He drinks a full swash, bouncing between his pale cheeks before swallowing. You flush. “He hasn’t forgiven you.”

More than me, you’re reminded. The way his nostrils flared or heat behind his dark eyes. You’re a long way from Kattegat, but what happened… it’s there with you. You turn over in the icy pool and allow your hips to float freely while in thought. More than Ivar.

“He’ll get over it, Thor willing.”

Hvitserk joins you and finishes his drink. “We all thought he would marry you.”

You pour yourself another drink. “He proposed to me.”

“And you said…?”

You bore into the reflection of the cup.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Very well,” Hvitserk sighed, shifting himself around. With his back to the ice, he settles his arms back on the wall to balance himself. “You shouldn’t wear those rags from home. They do nothing for your body.”

The rags from home were safe. The clothes that Katya had given you were… showy. They were meant to make a spectacle. While here among the Rus, that was not what you wanted to do. You peer over to Hvitserk, “What would you know of my body?”

“I know you’ve filled out,” Hvitserk answers with his head tipped back. He lifts his head again, moving to sock your arm with his closed fist. “You should flaunt it. We might need a woman’s touch with Oleg.”

“I plan to keep myself as far away from that dog as possible.” You snap, turning your face down into your arm. Whatever the reason Hvitserk wanted you to dress more… alluringly, it was wrapped in political conquest. He noticed your body and yet, the moment that you waited for? It was… bittersweet. It was a pawn in the game of chess. “He has plenty of whores.”

“Not English princesses,” Hvitserk says pointedly.

“I am not English. I am heathen,” you splash your drink in his face. Hvitserk flicks his head to the side and then up. In that short expanse of time, you’ve pulled yourself out of the water. He watches as you snatch your brown bag of a dress and yank it over your head. “And you are a fool to think otherwise.”

“Princess,” he reaches out, catching your thigh in his sturdy grip. He applies an amazing amount of pressure to keep you in place until he can slip between your legs, floating whilst you pull the dress down. “I know I am, but I am a fool who wants to keep you alive.”

You slide out from underneath him. You could do that yourself.

Your little servant knew you hated the dress. Not minding that your legs were accustomed to slacks or that… your usual staples were drab. She was in tune with every instance of uncertainty you had. She’s a mouse of a girl, small but soft and loving. Her soft brown eyes pale and her body thin, she makes herself smaller when Hvitserk enters the room.

“What do you think?” you ask her honest opinion, spinning in place, and stopping to look at the woman in the mirror. She’s foreign to you. You gestured to your gown. “You think the boys will approve?”

She clasps her hands together, nodding with a bob of her long veil. She grins a wide gap-toothed smile.

“Why don’t you speak?” you ask her. “Are you mute?”

You swap a look as Hvitserk bounces past the wooden room divider and seizes your wrist. You had questions the girl whose presence flooded the room like a shadow and yet still slept in a bed near the door.

“There you are. You took my advice,” there’s a slight pause, then a smile. “Come, Ivar is waiting for us to say hello to Prince Oleg and his wife. Is this gold?”

There’s only so much you can ask of your Hvitserk now that he was awake and well. Apparently asking that he be attentive was too much to ask of him. His mind is constantly running; even when he is quiet.

“Yes, I think so.”

“It’s nice,” he remarks of the dress. You don’t know why you expected more. Or why it hurt when he glazed it over so easily. As though it meant nothing to him when it felt like it should have meant something. Of course, it meant nothing, you reminded yourself. He didn’t know it should mean something.

“I will see you soon,” you call back to your slave girl. She waves curtly and picks up the strewn clothes around the room.

The floors in Oleg’s castle seem to stretch for miles. All virtually the same; minus the change in the appearance of the guard. Some tall, some short. They all have the same dark hair and hard black eyes. You fiddle with the pendant of Thor that hands above your chest at Ivar’s room. Hvitserk dips inside, and moments later, appears with your once-was lover.

Ivar seems to wear all the same clothes. Baggy, ill-formed, horrendously brown. If you had to see Ivar in brown, you preferred the tunics from home. Shaped to his muscular arms, the neck slightly pulled apart, with a view of his muscular chest and the proud pendant of Thor, that matched your own, beating on his chest.

“--The dress.”

“I’m sorry?” you spoke, moistening your lips for the memory. Talk of this horrendous gown tips you off to Ivar’s voice. You lifted your head from staring at the intricate, but ugly ties at his chest to look him in the eye. He leans in and bumps into your chest.

“You look beautiful in the dress.”

Ivar always noticed you. The warmth that flooded your face wasn’t exactly something that you could withhold, not when he met your eyes with such force. He brought his hand up to your anxious fiddling and forced it to still.

“Thank you.”

“So then why would you wear it, uh?” he asks next. His nose scrunches up, bearing his gleaming white teeth.

“What?”

“He is a womanizer and here you are,” his head tilts to the side, rounding out. Here he goes. You can’t suppress your eyes rolling up as his hand twirls up your side, condescending: just like Bjorn. “--dressed in gold silks and a glistening crown. Calling for his attention! Do you not know the value of a plain dress?”

Hvitserk remains as still as the guards behind him.

“Hvitserk told me to dress up,” you hiss back. “Is that not enough?”

“Hvitserk--” Ivar bobbles his head, rolling his eyes in mimicry. “What does Hvitserk know of men? He does not even know what he wants most days.”

You let out your suppressed breath and pick up your skirts. By all appearances, Ivar was maintaining his image. He lurches out to seize your arm, stopping you in place from storming off back down the halls.

“I don’t say these things to--” Ivar breaks into a huff of air, “I say them to keep us safe. If we were home, you could wear whatever you wanted and it would not be an issue. Now stop making that face.”

“It is my face. What would you have me do?” you arch your brows up at him, challenging his words with a soft gleam in your eyes. “Wear a bag and pretend to be a proper Saxon girl?”

“You’re too mouthy for that. We could never fool Oleg like that.”

“The guards have already seen her,” Hvitserk leans forward. “Let her wear it.”

The weight of Ivar’s eyes fall upon you like iron weights. You remain voiceless when he turns on his brother like a snake, Ivar rules his lower lip in between his teeth. Then out. His expression remains hooded and dark as he starts down the hall. “This is your fault.”  

The dress does not inspire many friends. It’s soft golden silk contrasts against brilliant sapphire blue. With its long waterfall sleeves and cinched waist, you should have a family of admirers. Instead, you have a proud dog and a scowling ex-lover. Oleg hums and prompts your name.

“I have recently heard you are a princess. An English princess.”

Here you go.

“Where did you hear that?” You can play along, despite the words that had seized up the contents of your belly. Ivar was right. This was a game. Your mouth was dry with apprehension for his response.

“I’ve foreseen it,” he says sharply. Or on the lips of his guards. “I’ve not come by the manner in which my beloved Ivar came upon you so haply.”

“He didn’t. His father Ragnar and his dearest friend, my father, Athelstan did,” you told the prince in punctuated words. “My mother Judith abandoned me with them. She knew I would not survive in Wessex.”

“As a baby?”

“Yes,” you say. “But I am a heathen.”

“I’ve no doubt of that. I know a heathen when I see one. Tell me of this-- Alfred the Great.”

“I know nothing of him,” you rap your knuckles over the table. “Only that he is my twin.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. I was raised by a boatbuilder, you see. Ragnar’s cruel punishment.” You wish that he would stop asking you so many questions. It was a long time since you dreamed of England and the family that you could have had. Maybe, you could have met Ivar there. He would have hated you.

“And of England?”

“You should ask Ivar. I’ve never been.”

He leans back in his chair.

“That is fine. It has been a long day-- and I anticipate, a longer night. I hope you enjoyed your ice bath with Hvitserk.” In that split second, Ivar turned his head over toward you. The pain resurfaces a power you never knew you had over him. Regret hits you like a shield on the battlefield, forcing you to lurch in your chair, setting a hand on his thigh. Ivar’s eye snaps down to your hand over his calibers.

“What bath?”

Oleg chuckles, warm and cruel. “They bathed together in Katya’s pool. Did they not tell you?”

His head hangs, focused on your delicate palm over his firm thigh. Out of the corner of his eye, his raw stare centered on you. You have noting to be ashamed about. You were not his anymore. You had no reason to feel as if you had, yet again, betrayed Ivar the Boneless. You had done nothing wrong!

Oleg snatches the cloth to clean his face. He wipes crumbles from his beard and drops the cloth on the plate. He excuses himself with his young wife. “Let us talk of England tomorrow, Ivar. I am— interested.”

“Ivar--” your voice sounds small. Too small for a woman whose life was once wound up in being on the battlefield beside a man like Ivar the Boneless. You feel small as you struggle to explain, swirling in a whirlpool of thought. Ivar throws off your hand from his thigh and closes his eyes. With one smooth inhale and exhale of breath, he stands up. He doesn’t have to ask Igor to stand up either. The future grand prince is up, trailing his steps, a puppy after the larger dog that might as well be his father.

“You should go to him.” Hvitserk breaks the silence after Ivar’s thrumming steps fizzled out. “Explain that it wasn’t what he thinks it is.”

That earlier that day, you hadn’t felt a zing of excitement when Hvitserk’s naked chest bumped into yours. That attention of his you craved-- it was nothing. Hvitserk’s hands are turned over his clothed chest now. You try to swallow your pride.

“He knows what it is,” you turn your face toward Hvitserk. Oleg’s many servants pick half eaten gold dishes from the table in front of you. Your eyes pricked as you ran your hands together. Your gown feels somewhat hotter, somewhat harder to stand in. Hvitserk tilts his head slightly. Something wasn’t right.

“Knows what-- what is?” Hvitserk asked.

You’re a coward. If you were half the man that Ivar was, you would be able to tell Hvitserk your deepest, newly realized secret. The air in your chest was punched out. You couldn’t, not now. It aches a whole in your chest. “It’s nothing. I should go.”

You walk back to your room with a knot greater than any battle had given you. You knew why; that your stomach was unsettled by Oleg’s push for England and its riches. The rich green soil and lapping beaches that Ragnar would tell you about. Back when you wondered of whom you came from. Who was Judith? Or Alfred? The thoughts were painful to recall as the child that had been so easily sent away. The door beside you whirled open. A hand launched out and yanked you into the dark room. The buckles alerted you to Ivar’s presence.

“Ivar?”

“Hush,” the door whizzed closed again. It falls with a heart shattering clank against its hinges. You wait til the noise outside the door has settled to walk toward a singular chair among blonde furs. It looks like home. You take a seat and wait for the impending ass whipping you anticipate is careening your way. In its place, Ivar snakes forth.

“He will want to fight Alfred.”

You tilt your head. “And? What concern is that of mine?”

“You know why.”

In the West, where your brother was, you would be faced with the obligation to fight one way or another. Surely Oleg knew your reputation for fighting with the brothers. But you could not-- imagine taking the life of your brother. Even if you did not know his quality.

“It won’t be an issue unless you make it one.”

“Hm,” Ivar reaches out. You jerk back, allowing his hand to curl back in. As his hand becomes a fist, he nods through his thoughts. “Then you had better not betray me a third time.”

“I wasn’t aware there was a second.”

He slips open the door.

“You’re running away, again?”

There’s a moment-- when you think he’ll just smile and close the door behind him. After all, with Hvitserk’s rantings and ravings, it was very easy to do so. You want him the rejection that will follow. Rather, Ivar stabs the ground and maneuvers around to face your accusation.

“I wish you the best in your first marriage with my own flesh and blood,” he mocks, spreading his hand out in half of a bow. “Good night, Princess.”

He might as well have said bitch.

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr​ @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys  @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim @msmorganforever @destynelseclipsa @soleil-dor @strangunddurm

[jetaime-jespere]

Prompt #74/188

#74: Well. Yell, scream, say something, anything / #188: Say it.

Rated M.

Atlantic City is a calamitous disaster. At least that’s how it starts.

Not because of their case - of course it’s awful, as most of them are. There’s nothing not awful about a duo of killers targeting vacationers during the height of the summer tourist season. Everyone is on edge, it’s hot and cramped, and there isn’t much time before they’ll almost certainly find two more dead bodies in the early morning hours outside one of the many casinos dotting the shoreline. But they’re used to that; it’s practically their daily vernacular at this point, a bit of normalcy in the current chaos between them. The case is the least of Aaron’s concerns, or Emily’s for that matter.

It’s everything but the case this time.

Things go downhill before they even cross the New Jersey state lane. A last minute hydraulic fuel leak on the jet renders air travel a non option. Instead, they get stuck in the same SUV with Reid for company in the backseat for the four hour drive. Aaron almost feels sorry for him, but he’s completely oblivious to the brewing storm inside the confines of the car for the entire first leg of the trip. Reid chatters endlessly, yet neither of them seem to hear a word he’s saying. By the time they hit the Atlantic City Expressway, Emily is all but ready to leap out the window. Hardly any words are exchanged between the two of them at all; they aren’t needed. It’s in her body language and his reticence, the firm clench of his hand on the steering wheel and her weary head resting on a fist, angled as far away from him as possible.

“This is a mess,” Aaron mutters with more than an hour left to go, and he isn’t talking about the thickening traffic. He’s talking about them, and the ending to what never really had as much as a beginning in the first place.

Things spun out of control towards the end. There was a breakup, if it could be considered as much. What they had was never labeled or defined, it just was. It was built on a mistake, nurtured through secrecy and quiet whispers in the dark. It then spiraled into something else entirely, creating an impasse between them during the day that bled into endless nights spent wrapped around one another in beds across the country for almost four full months.

“We can’t do this,” Emily finally said in a darkened hotel room in Seattle exactly 12 days prior to this one. He’d been expecting it, recognized the signs of her pulling away a little more with every kiss he left on her smooth skin, every shudder of her body beneath his and every breathy pant in his ear. There’s nothing tangible left of them, just broken fragments and heavy silence, and every reason why they shouldn’t have ever started this in the first place plays out right before their eyes. “There’s only one way for this to end, you know.”  

There was nothing he could say to talk her out of it as she threw the covers aside, reaching for her clothes on the floor. Aaron offered an “I’m sorry” for good measure yet it didn’t feel like enough, probably because it wasn’t at all. But it’s over, she reminded him as she closed the door firmly, without looking back.

Or so they think.

A mishap at the hotel in Atlantic City leaves the team two rooms short, meaning the team will have to double up for the next few days. JJ is seven months pregnant, which automatically gives her the comfort of her own space, and it goes without saying Dave will get his own too. Reid shuffles his feet and makes eye contact with Morgan, looking slightly relieved when he nods in agreement. That leaves Aaron to concede and Emily to shrug her shoulders indifferently, even if her face is anything but that. The caretaker of the slightly run down hotel  only slightly leers in Emily’s direction as he passes over the two room keys, and Aaron can’t help but step between her and the counter and swipe them both out of the man’s hand with a curt “thanks.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Emily says low enough for only Aaron to hear, snatching the key out of his hand and taking off in the direction of their room. “It’s just a damn key.”

“Did you see the way he stared at you?” Aaron questions with a hint of impatience in his tone as he goes to follow her, but she’s not listening.

“202 is the other way, you know.” The man chuckles with a jab of his finger, as if he’s seen this exact scenario play out many times before - two people disappearing behind a closed door, a disaster waiting to happen. “You two have yourselves a nice stay.” He doesn’t seem to care that just a few moments ago, Aaron’s FBI badge was in his face. He looks almost amused, which only adds to the visible tension between them both.

With an exasperated sigh, Emily turns on her heel and spins in the opposite direction toward their room. “I can’t believe this,” she mutters, staring at the tiny gold numbers on every door until she finds the one they need. Aaron doesn’t miss the way she squares her shoulders, the quick intake of breath as she twists the key in the knob.

The door squeaks on its hinges when she pushes it open; the room smells slightly of mold, but even that isn’t the worst part. The proverbial icing on the cake is when she stops dead in her tracks with him right behind her, shoulders sagging in defeat.

Fuck.

There’s only one bed. It sits in the middle of the damn room, practically mocking them both. Aaron doesn’t miss the subtle glance Emily throws in his direction, searching for his reaction just as he is studying hers. “I’ll take the couch,” he says immediately, keeping his face neutral, setting his bag down on the rickety piece of furniture that has clearly seen better days. “You can take the bed.”

“That hardly qualifies as a couch,” Emily tells him sharply. “That’s a chair, Aaron.”  

She’s right, he thinks in annoyance. It wouldn’t even fit half of him, and staring at it makes his back hurt in anticipation. But sleeping next to her for however many nights they’re here isn’t exactly an option, either.  “I don’t want to make you -”

“Let’s just agree,” Emily says through firmly clenched teeth, making it a done deal. “To be adults about this. We can share a room for a few days without it being an issue. That includes the bed.”

…

They should have known better, but it’s too late for that.

As expected, the rest of the day is exhausting. It only ends because of the promise to look at things with fresh eyes in the morning at the urging of the equally weary Atlantic City police. By the time they make it back to the shabby room, they’re both tired, hot, and cranky, hardly uttering a word after bidding goodnight to everyone else.

“You shower first,” Aaron says as he holds the door open for her, giving her enough space to pass him. “I have to check in on Jack.” He knows her routine once they get back from a case - a shower is always a necessity, and in the better days, they’d always taken turns on first dibs. Or just showered together, which was always his preference.

If she thanks him he doesn’t hear it, and the bathroom door closes behind her, the lock added for good measure. But twenty minutes later - how long does she need in there - he has to avert his eyes when Emily steps out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, the scent of shampoo lingering in her wake. She’s wrapped in one of the hotel issued towels, which is a generous description for the scrap of fabric that barely covers her, awkwardly crossing the room to dig through her suitcase.

Look away, Aaron wills himself, struggling to get comfortable on the tiny couch. It’s a lost cause, and will undoubtedly be a very long night.

There’s a mishap with the towel, a soft curse under her breath as she scrambles before it hits the floor, and an inopportune moment when their eyes meet, succumbing to what they silently agreed would never happen again. It’s how Emily finds herself pinned under his weight, her back pressed against the mattress as Aaron lowers to his knees and dips his head between her legs. Any protest that falls from her lips is short lived, her hands in his hair, her legs curling over his shoulders as he slowly begins to take her apart. Emily arches into him, unable to stifle the moans that are now a constant stream of affirmation, and Aaron doesn’t bother with reminding her the walls are thin. He doesn’t care, and something tells him in the moment he coaxes her climax out of her, neither does she.

“I missed you,” he says when he slides into her to completion a few moments later, giving her a moment to adjust to him before starting to move. He kisses the space between her breasts and Emily all but ignores him, pushing him over onto his back to straddle his hips with a smirk.

The pace she sets is quick, the rhythm fast and rough, and it’s over almost embarrassingly fast. He’s gotten her down against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her as she whimpers into his mouth. Her body is shaking in the aftermath as he thrusts hard once more, holding her against him. For a few quiet moments, the only sound is that of their breathing, a heaviness falling over them both at the realization of what’s just happened. And yet, she stays on his chest, her limbs not quite ready to work, in the comfort of his embrace for a few moments longer.

Afterward, Emily puts as much space as she can between them, which isn’t much given the size of the bed. “If this was your way of not sleeping on the couch,” she says sleepily, her voice muffled by the pillow, “I guess you won.”

...

The next morning, as the sun rises over the shore, Aaron finds her on the balcony, wearing nothing but his undershirt that was abandoned on the floor, the sound of the ocean in the distance. He mumbles something about getting coffee, the first thing that comes to his mind. He knows she (and he) could use some, judging by the minimal amount of sleep they got. Emily doesn’t say a word, just pushes him against the sliding door and drops to her knees. His head falls back against the glass, his hand tightening in her hair as she brings him into her mouth, letting him hit the back of her throat. In between his eyes closing, his hips stuttering against her face, Aaron watches the brilliant mix of orange, yellow, and red fade into daylight, and wonders just how things got to be such a fucking mess in the first place.

They’re two for zero now, and as the day dawns hot and there’s another set of bodies found, it’s abundantly clear no one is leaving Atlantic City anytime soon. And much later that night, they hardly make it to that damn bed before the score becomes three.

…

Aaron wakes up a few hours later from a restless, uncomfortable sleep. The room is stuffy, the pillow underneath his head is flat, the hum of the air conditioner a constant nag even if it does little to cool the room down. Before he opens his eyes, he knows she’s gone. The space beside him is cold - Emily is nowhere to be found, and there’s thunder rumbling ominously in the distance. He dresses in the dark, grabbing his keys, doesn’t bother with an umbrella, and makes the short trek to the boardwalk.

It’s where he would go, and it’s where he finds her, sitting on a bench, her arms folded across her chest, long legs crossed at the knees. She’s ripping at her fingernails, a sure sign something is wrong, and wearing a blank expression that doesn’t change when she slowly turns her head to see him coming right towards her. “I had a feeling you would find me.”

Aaron shrugs, but doesn’t miss the way she flinches when he sits beside her. “Not many places to look. It’s 1 AM, you know.”  

She sniffs with disinterest, continuing to pick at her fingernails.“Why do we keep screwing up?” Emily says after a long pause, and what he sees is like a swift kick to the chest. She looks disappointed with herself, disgusted even. All because of him. “Why can’t I just … quit you?”

“Why do you keep coming back?” He challenges her right back. “If all you’re going to do is walk away again?”

Emily turns her head to stare at him with widened eyes. “We both know the answer to that, Aaron. We both know this was never going to work.”

“No, you decided that. All on your own.” He remembers the night in Seattle as if it were yesterday - the night she left. The sting of her words is still fresh in his mind. “But maybe you’ve already compartmentalized it,” he adds with a bite in his voice that wasn’t there before.

Emily recoils at his words, recrossing her arms over her chest. She rises to her feet, pacing  around the bench.  “What do you want from me, Aaron? What were you expecting when we drunkenly decided to sleep together once? It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“You. I want you. And not just this fuck then forget bullshit,” he says over the growing wind and thunder, the skies threatening to open. In the distance, the ocean churns, the tides crashing against the shore as his anger builds. “I want to be with you,” Aaron adds with a waver in his voice. “Regardless of how this started.”

Emily blinks with confusion and bites her lip, as if holding back tears. She shivers, rubbing her arms, her lip starting to tremble. They can’t. Her silence is an answer in and of itself, one he refused to accept.

“Well?” He demands, the anger rising in his voice, and Emily curses his resolve.

“Well what?”

“Well. Yell, scream, say something, anything,” he snaps, searching her face for a sign of anything besides the emptiness painted across her features. “Don’t just say nothing.”

But Emily indeed says nothing, just regards him with wide, darkened eyes that tell him what he needs to know. In the dark, with only the lights of the boardwalk to cast eerie shadows on her face, she looks almost ethereal, a haunting comparison to the fear he sees. That’s what it is, he thinks. Fear. Fear of what could be, fear of what might never be.

“Say it,” he pleads. “Please, Emily.” The rain starts to fall, coming down relentlessly and soaking them both to the skin almost instantly. “

“Aaron,” she whispers, barely audible over the thunder and now the rain. “It would never work.” She holds up her hands in defeat. “We can’t.”

“What are you so afraid of?” He grabs her by the shoulders, just tightly enough that she can’t duck out of his grasp. Emily squirms uncomfortably but he holds her fast, unwilling to let her go, for if he does, she may never come back. “Why are you so damn afraid of this actually working? Do you have any damn faith?”

She opens her mouth but snaps it shut, her chin trembling with effort. He expects her to slap him, to jerk away and disappear into the night. He’s waiting for her to leave like she did three weeks ago. But she doesn’t. What she does instead surprises the hell out of him. Emily kisses him, slanting her mouth against his in the pouring rain, pressing her rain-soaked body right into his. It takes a full ten seconds before he kisses her back.

It’s a compromise, an agreement to not make a decision one way or the other, at least for the time being. Even so, Aaron envelopes her in his arms, a hand cupped around the back of her head and the other anchored across her shoulders. He kisses her back with an urgency he can only attribute to the fact that he’s in love with her, something he’s known for way too long.

He doesn’t have to tell her that, because somewhere amongst all the doubt, she already knows.

An hour later, after a hot shower (taken together) the score becomes four. And a few hours after that, as the sun rises yet again, nearly blinding them in a cramped Atlantic City hotel room, Emily tentatively agrees to try.

It’s good enough for him.

[pixie88]

New Home

Chapter 1 - Addicted to you.  

A/N: Here’s the first chapter of ATY! It’s set 2 months later and a bit has happened since the last chapter. I hope you like it 😘  

Tagging those who asked to be tagged but if you want to be added let me know!

Read previous chapters HERE!

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 2018

Pairings: Laila x Harry

Enjoy! 😘  

2 Months later.

Both their flats had been sold and were going through the process of signing their properties over, they had viewed a few houses, none of which neither of them could see themselves living there.

They were viewing an old end terrace house one afternoon. Which had been recently renovated, as they walked in the stairs were on the left with a door at front which the estate agent said could be a separate dining room. The door opposite on the right was the living room and to the end of the hallway was the door to a spacious kitchen/dining room which had lead into the garden through some French doors.

For a house in London the garden was bigger than usual. Upstairs the 1st floor had 2 bedrooms, a bathroom with a freestanding tub. The loft which was the second floor had been converted into another bedroom with an en suite.

Both Laila and Harry couldn't believe how lovely this property was. It was perfect for them, it was on the edge of London, so not as busy as where their flat were.

It was an extra ten minutes travel time to the salon Laila worked at but this made her consider whether to go self employed. Harry's gym was five minutes closer, so work, travel wasn't an issue with him. They decided to put an offer in, a few days later they got the call saying another buyer had pulled out and if they were still interested the seller was willing to accept their offer.

Everything was going good for them even Vicky had been sent to prison for 3 years for criminal damage.

Remy was taking things super slow with Melissa but they were getting on well.

Moving in day.

"Lift with your legs Rem's." Alec calls over to him. "I....AM....FUCK! Laila, what the hell is in this box?" she looks over to him. "Erm...shoes, I think," she wanders over to him, checking out the box "Nope, Harry's weights!" she laughs, "No, wonder I can't lift it" he says as he's struggling with the box.

Harry wanders over taking the box off Remy and throws it onto his shoulder. "Alright, show off!" Remy calls after Harry as he picks up another box. Laila rolls her eyes at the both of them   grabbing a box herself, following Harry upstairs to their bedroom "So, Miss. Carelli, any regrets?" she looks over to him and laughs as she puts down the box "Just one!" she winks "Really?"

"Yeah, offering to get our friends a Chinese take away after they helped us unpack. When we could have had the place to ourselves and christened every surface." she says, her arms loop around his neck and he sighs, "We were stupid! Why did we do that?" he chuckles.

"We were!" she kisses his lips, he moves them backwards until she's pressed between him and the bedroom wall. He invades her mouth, they hear footstep coming up the stairs and they spring apart "We better get the rest of these boxes in before I won't be able to pull away" he pulls her with him.

Later.

Laila is sat on the sofa with Priya and Katrina "This is such a lovely house. I have house envy" Katrina tells her, "We were very lucky to find this place, some of the other places were awful!"

Priya looks out to the hallway at Harry and Will trying to get their new bed up the stairs "Moving in with Popeye is why I'm green with envy! I bet he just throws you over his shoulder with ease! If Chris tried that with me, he'd end up throwing his back out" Priya laughs.

"Aww poor, Chris!" Laila laughs. "He might not be able to do that, but he certainly is able to do other things!" Priya winks, Laila pretends to gag "Max has no trouble throwing me over his shoulder." Katrina adds "Oh my god! Please stop I don't want to picture my brothers in that way!"

The three girls laugh sipping their wine.

Laila wanders into the kitchen to get a top up, Chris, Arthur and Max are in there filling their plates again "Hey, you three!" Max nods with his mouth full. "Alright, Laila! Thanks for this!" Chris smiles as he nods towards the Chinese takeaway "No, thank you guys for helping us move in," she smiles at the three guys. "If you need any help with anything give us a shout, especially if you guys are going to pay in booze and food," Arthur chuckles.

"Yeah, same goes for me!" Max winks at his sister, Chris shook his head at his brother. "Well, I for one am glad to see you happy again!" he pulls her in for a hug. "Aww... thanks, Chris!" Laila blushes, "I didn't think I'd see you in love again after Josh but just the way you two look at each other. I've got nothing to worry about."

Laila kisses her brother on the cheek "He is a lovely bloke," Max winks over at her. "I just glad he's moved on after that last chick, she did a number on him," Arthur says as he makes his way over to her, he looks towards the door as if to check the coast is clear "The truth is I never liked her, there was just something about her that was..well....off. Even dad didn't warm to her..EVER! Then he meet you as soon as he mentioned you to us you could tell you had him hooked." Laila blushes at his words "He has me just as hooked," she laughs.

After she tops up her glass she goes in search of him "There you are!" he's upstairs with Will putting up their bed "Hey gorgeous, where's the bed sheets?" he looks up at her. "I'm pretty sure they are in a box in here," she starts looking through the boxes. "Harry, you hold it up and I'll bolt this end" Will orders him, Laila watches him lifting the side of the bed that is attached to the headboard while Will bolts the foot of the bed to it.

His arms are bulging while he lifts it, Harry notices her looking "Like something you see?" he smirks at her "Maybe!" she winks at him and he laughs, "Hello guys, I'm still here!" Will shook his head "We better stop or he will and we can't test it out later gorgeous!" Harry teases "You two need to get a room!" Will says. "We do but you're in the way!" Harry jokes.

Laila laughs, "Stop whining him up!" Laila finds the bedding "I'll put this over here, thanks for the helping, Will" she places the bedding on the dresser.

Later.

After everyone had left they climbed into bed "Our first night in our new home!" she says as she cuddles up to him, he strokes her hair as she lays her head on his chest. "First of many," she lifts her head and looks up at him, he claims her lips before flipping her onto her back, his body covered hers.

He grinds his hips against hers, letting her know he isn't ready for sleep just get.

A few days later.

Laila finishes work early because a client canceled, she walks through the front door and can hear drilling coming from the separate dining room. She calls out to Harry confused as he was supposed to be at work, "Harry?" she steps closer to the door when it swings open. "Laila?! You're home early!" he says coming out of the room, closing it behind him "I could say the same to you! What are you doing in there?" she asks.

"Nothing, how was work?" he tries to change the subject "Harry, why are you changing the subject?" she asks him, he shrugs his shoulder, "I don't know what you mean!" she decides to try and push pass him to have a look, but he stops her "OK, you know that idea you gave me about turning it into a home gym...well, I decided to do it. But at the moment it's a bit of a mess in there I want to show you once it's completed, so will you promise to stay out until its done?" she smiles at him "I'm glad you decided to do it and I promise to keep our until you've finished" he sighs with relief.

A Weeks later.

Laila is finishing up at work when Harry wanders into the salon "Hey gorgeous, you ready?" he smiles at her. "Yeah, I'll just grab my bag.”

As they're walking down the road Harry can't stop smiling "Why are you grinning like an idiot?" she asks, "Max and I got the room finished today, so when we get home, I can finally show you," she links her fingers through his "This is where part where I'll hardly ever see you because your working out," she winks at him "Nah, I think you're get more use out of it then me!"

She laughs, "I've told you I don't like working out in gyms." she nudges him "Who said anything about working out," he winks at her and she blushes.

When they arrive home Harry stops her, "Wait, you need to put this on!" he hands her a blindfold "Really? I don't need this for a home gym!" he sighs, "Please? For me!" she huffed "Fine!!" placing it over her eyes Harry leads her into the converted room "Just around this corner."

"Corner? What corner?" she asks, confused "I put in a wall, so when you walk through the door you have to come round to see it. Now stand there" his lips brush her ear, "I'm going to pull it off on 3, OK?" she nods "1.....2......3" the blindfold is off her eyes adjust, but she's confused "Harry....."

"What?....Where's the g..? What's this?" she asks, he smiles "Laila, you have been on about getting your own salon for ages then we found this place and it cut into the money your parents gave you. So, it cut into your dream...I was speaking to my parents when my dad gave me the idea, then I spoke to Max. He did all the work for free, but I had to pay for the materials, Nikki came by one day and caught us, she knew a place to get all the salon equipment at a discount. I didn't ask her but I thought if you wanted you two could run this place together?"

Laila stands there in shock not quite believing he has done this for her "Harry...I.." he sighs, "You hate the wallpaper don't you?" he runs his hands down his face, she cups his face "Harry, I love it...this is the most sweetest, kindest and amazing thing anyone has ever done for me! I can't believe you did this instead of converting it into a gym." He smiles at her "I can work out at work! I just thought you deserved this after what you did, so we could get this place." she grins.

"Have you tried out the chairs yet?" she asks and he shook his head "Why don't you take a sit Mr. Taylor?" she winks at him.

As soon as he sits, she straddles him and runs her fingers through his hair, he grips her hips "Not sure I need a haircut." she looks down at him "Hmmm....we'll just have to see what other services you can use!" she winks, his lips quickly find her as they test out the sturdiness of the chair.

~*~*~*~

A few days later Laila hands in her notice and she convinces Nikki to work with her and Daniel because Nikki can only work part time.

The three of them are excited about this new opportunity.

Will it be a match made in heaven?

Continue reading this story here - Chapter 2.

@lem-20​ @aussieez​ @secretaryunpaid​ @khoicesbyk​ @irisofpurple​ @txemrn​ @beautifuluknownvoid​ @wombatsxkookaburras​

[moshymosh]

Remember Me- Something’s happening

When the love of your life suffers from a disease that affects their memory of their life with you, what do you do? Will you spend your last days with them, trying to get them to remember you? The life you had, or would you give up and let them forget you?

Summary- Dr. Spencer Reid felt his whole life change when Agent Y/n L/n joined the BAU. She came in like a cool summer breeze changing everything Spencer knew about love and his capacity to care for someone so much. Y/n came to the BAU with a tragic past, her only goal was to save lives and make the world a safer place for everyone. She meets a skinny shaggy haired doctor, which causes her whole life to change, much like Spencer, will she fall in love or will her tragic past or even her job prevent her?

Pairings- Dr. Spencer Reid x f!reader

A/N- This is a notebook inspired story, this story will be told and wrote like a chapter book. So some of the endings will not always make sense. Also I don't claim go own Criminal Minds or the Notebook, this is solely for entertainment purposes and for enjoyment. Some of the lines are from the notebook movie, again I don't claim to own either fandom/tv show/ movie. I try to make Y/n as vague as possible so shes more inclusive so if there is any descriptive things that don’t apply to you feel free to ignore them. Also just putting this out there as the story progresses Maeve is still alive and well, she is a good friend of Spencer and Y/n’s. There will be graphic content and sexual scenes in later chapters, warnings will be added as they go. Also if you want to be tagged send me an as or comment here, also send requests I'm down for making little fics.

PS- Please don't post my fics anywhere without my documented consent, thanks -Karma (MoshyMosh)

Warnings!- This chapter with have some sexual content, talk of sexual assault, and descriptions of kidnapping. If these bother you please don't read this chapter!

A/N 2.0- I am like half asleep, I will double check the spelling and any issues when I was up

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Y/N laughed from her couch as she tossed some popcorn at Spencer, who sat on the other end of her couch.

"Y/N!" Spencer scolded as he looked over at her, with a smile, when he saw that she was pretending to be interested in the movie they were watching.

Y/N tried to hide her smirk, before she erupted in giggles as she looked back at him, tossing some more popcorn at him. Spencer groaned as he tried to swat away the onslaught of popcorn before he started laughing along with her. Soon Y/N had wiggled her way over to Spencer as she continued to rain popcorn at him before she straddled his hips. Y/N smiled down at him as she lifted the bowl of remaining popcorn above his head then tipped it, dumping the rest of the popcorn.

"Y/N!" Spencer laughed, as he reached up to grab the bowl from her hands. She chuckled and dropped the bowl behind the couch, her arms dropped so that they were draped over his shoulders. Spencer's hands dropped to rest on her hips, and let out a sigh of contentment when her fingers brushed against some of the hair at the base of his neck as she looked down at his face.

Spencer licked his lips as he nervously fiddled with her oversized sweater, his eyes looking between her eyes and her lips. "Screw it." He said quietly before he crashed his lips to hers. Y/N let out a soft gasp against his lips before she eagerly kissed him back, threading her fingers into his hair.

Spencer's hands slid under her sweater, his fingertips brushing against the band of her shorts she wore. Y/N pulled away from the kiss to pull off her sweater, leaving her top half bare. Spencer let out a breath and looked up from her chest, his hands coming up to card through her hair. He pulled her head down to crush his lips against hers again, his hips grinding up against hers slightly. The movie they had turned on, now forgotten behind her.

As they continued to kiss, Y/N let out a groan and pulled away from him as she heard her phone ringing on the coffee table. She slid off Spencer's lap and stood, reaching for her phone. Spencer bit his lip, as his eyes raked over her topless figure, as she bent to pick up the ringing device.

"Penny, you need to have a really good reason for calling on our week off." Y/N said when she answered the phone. "We have a case don't we?" She looked at Spencer as she reached for her sweater when he handed it to her. Spencer watched her slide it on and chuckled softly when he heard her next words. "No need to call him, he's right in front of me." She smiled at him, with a wink.

Spencer smiled back and stood from the couch to gather his things after he pressed a kiss to Y/N's forehead. "Was that a kiss I heard?!" He heard from Penelope's end of the call, causing him to chuckle again.

"Goodbye, Penelope." Y/N said before she hung up. "I'll get dressed then we can go to the office."

Spencer and Y/N rode to Quantico in a tension-filled silence after what happened before they were interrupted. Spencer looked over at Y/N as he replayed the kiss over and over again. He was pulled away from his thoughts as she pulled into her assigned parking spot in the lot. The pair got out and started walking to the elevator in the parking garage.

Y/N fiddled with one of the buttons on her blazer as they rode the elevator in silence. Spencer leaned over and pressed a kiss to her temple with a smile, pulling away when the doors started opening on their floor. Y/N smiled softly and stepped out with Spencer, once they were inside the bullpen, she went over to her desk to drop off her bag.

"Miss Y/N..." Penelope sing-songed as she walked over to her, dragging Derek along with her. "You have some 'splanin' to do." She said in the 'I love Lucy' voice.

"I do not." Y/N said feigning innocence. "Also we have a case so now's not the time." She said as she began to walk upstairs to the meeting room, taking her seat next to Spencer.

Soon, everyone arrived and sat down around the table pulling their files to him, opening them up to look at their contents. "Ok guys. We're not traveling very far for this case. It's in our own backyard." Hotch said as he began clicking through some of the photos on the TV screen. Y/N listened to him in the background as she started looking through the pictures for the victimology.

"Every one of the women are Y/H/C and Y/E/C eyed, the only thing different is height and weights. Some of them were found to have Y/E/C contacts and a crude dye job if they did not have the correct look to the unsub. These things were noted in the autopsies." Y/N said as she looked up at the screen as pictures of the victims came up.

"There was some DNA recovered from the sexual assaults and under the fingernails of the first victim, there were no matches in CODAS." Derek said, reading the information from his file.

"DC capitol police think the first victim is Leah Ainsworth, 24, a tourist in DC on vacation." Hotch said. "The period of which the victims were reported missing and then to when they were found is 3-5 days."

Y/N nodded her head. " The extreme amount of wounds seems like overkill. 10 of the wounds on Leah were done postmortem. A lot of rage behind these attacks." She said as she closed her file and looked around at the rest of the team to gauge their reactions.

"There's something else..." Derek said. "Every victim was found with a note that said 'For F/I M/I L/I'."

"Could it be an activist group?" Spencer asked, sitting up in his seat.

"Could be initials." Hotch said rubbing his chin in thought. "Garcia see if those are a match for anything like that."

"Got it." Penelope said, writing down a note for herself.

"Reid, Morgan, go to the latest crime scene. Y/L/N and Prentiss go to where this latest victim was abducted and see if you can get anything from there. JJ your with me, setting up the evidence boards." Hotch directed.

"Let's do this." Emily said, getting up from her seat.

The team spent the day finding out new evidence and new possibilities. As they were about to go home for the night they sat in the meeting room going over the things they found out.

"Emily and I found out our latest victim was supposed to meet someone, like a date." Y/N said as she fiddled with her pen. "But the person never showed."

Emily nodded her head. "Customer parking is down an alley behind the building, the unsub could've blitz attacked and drugged the girls."

"Garcia, anything on the search?" Hotch asked, turning towards the woman in question.

"All I got were two activist groups and millions of names." She said, rubbing at her forehead.

"Alright. Guys go home, we'll come back tomorrow and look at this with fresh eyes." Hotch said before everyone got up and went to their desks to gather their things. Y/N smiled at Spencer as she held up her keys.

"Give you a ride home." She said before she mimicked Derek's voice. "Pretty boy."

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "Yes, I'll take your offer, but don't ever do that again." He joked as he walked over to her.

Y/N drove Spencer home, dropping him off at his apartment building with a kiss. Soon she arrived home, parked in her normal spot, and gather things before she let herself into the courtyard with her keycard. She looked through her keyring for her house key as she walked up to her door.

She stopped what she was doing with a smile, as she spotted a glass vase full of yellow red-tipped roses sitting in front of her door. She chuckled as she fished out her phone out and dialed Spencer's number as she reached to pull the notecard out with the hand holding her keyring, as she began reading it. She let out a squeal as she felt something press against her nose and mouth. She dropped everything she was holding to fight off her attacker.

"Y/N? Y/N?!" Spencer called over the phone hearing the struggle.

"I finally found you." Y/N heard in her ear as she felt her body go limp in her attacker's arms, succumbing to the drug. Her attacker lifted her body into his arms.

"Jason..." Y/N slurred out in the direction of her phone as her attacker pulled her badge and gun off her person. "Jason Dean... Spencie..." Y/N slurred again before she passed out.

"No one is going to save you, babe. I've got you now."  her attacker said as he stepped on her phone in his walk to his vehicle.

Spencer took a shaky breath and called Hotch after the line when dead. "Hotch, Something has happened to Y/N.