#we’ll hang out every now and again. make out some. in a few years we’ll retire to a cottage

[anthonycrowley]

maybe book azcrow has been together for centuries but it just wasn’t relevant to adam’s journey

[lyv-writes]

OKAYY WE NEED DAD!SPENCER REID‼️

okay so Reader is going out for the day for like a little girls day with her best friends and says bye to Spencer and the cute little toddler! Buttt then the toddler starts missing reader and Spencer isn’t sure how to handle it at first, but then he gets the hang of it! <33

AAAA this is so cute omg thank u for this!!! i hope i was able to do it justice <33

spencer reid x mom!reader

words: 1,395

warnings: none really! just spencer being a good step-dad to your daughter, fluff, baby crying, that’s it!! :]

୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

“Thanks again, Spence,” you say, pressing another sweet kiss to his lips before tugging your coat off the hook and making for the front door. “Remember, Lila is allergic to kiwi. And her bedtime is 8, no exceptions. She has to go to daycare tomorrow morning.”

You had spent the morning holding Lila, playing with her and soaking up her laughter as much as you could. Spencer knew you had never really been apart from her—going to work was one thing, but there was a guilt that came with taking the day for yourself. He watches with a fond smile as you ramble through the list that you had already repeated to him twice and does his best to reassure you, nodding along despite having already memorized it.

Pre-made food in the fridge.

Medical information on the fridge in case of emergencies.

Call if she gets too fussy.

“Oh!” You say, halfway out the door before turning back to Spencer, a smile gracing your face. “And don’t let her convince you to give her sweets after dinner. She’ll ask you for fruit snacks, all cute, then she won’t sleep and it will be hell in the morning.”

“No fruit snacks after dinner, got it,” Spencer said, following your line of sight to Lila sitting on her plush rug in the living room, toys surrounding her as she played. Your face softened, affection swimming in your eyes and he could practically hear the thoughts going through your head. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, he gently guides your face back to meet his eyes.

“We’ll be fine,” he says, tone soft as your shoulders sag at the understanding behind his words. “You deserve to have a day with your friends. I think Lila can handle playing dolls with me for a few hours.”

His phrasing made you giggle, picturing Lila’s pouting face, wagging her little finger at Spencer when he takes something too literally, or doesn’t do it the way she wants. For some reason, Lila is never happy with the voices Spencer does, and after a year-and-a-half she still gets that same little pinched brow whenever Spencer holds a doll in his hand, high-pitched voice mimicking a princess’s until she yanks the toy out of his hand with a firm, yet cute, “No, ‘Penth.”

Without fail, hearing his name in her little voice makes his heart soar, pride filling his chest even if she’s scolding him, wagging her little finger as she says it. He’d always been hesitant at the idea of being a father, whenever he pictured his future that was always a blurry part, but now he couldn’t imagine not having you and Lila in his life.

Searching his face, you finally come to the conclusion that he’s being sincere and a bright smile covers your face. Spencer had come to terms a long time ago, far before the two of you were even dating, that he would do anything to make you smile. A sense of pride wells in his chest knowing that the smiles you give him are just for him, a special glint in your eyes every time.

Between work, and Lila, there was hardly any downtime to just relax. Your evenings were often spent wrangling Lila into bed, usually with Spencer if he’s not away for work. Spencer made it a point to be home in time to have dinner with both of you as much as he could, slowly getting involved in her night time routine. She was 6-months-old when you and Spencer began dating, and while it took some getting used to at first, Lila began reaching for Spencer with a giggle and a giddy squeeze soon enough.

When your friends suggested a girl’s spa-day, Spencer was quick to encourage you to go. Having a toddler made it hard to have a social life, especially when your friends weren’t moms themselves. Lila had warmed up quickly to Spencer, which was the biggest relief, and it was hard to find a reason to say no when Spencer offered to babysit.

“She’s gonna be my daughter,” Spencer said, a fond smile on his face as the two of you spoke conspiratorially in the kitchen. “I already think of her as mine, I’d be happy to watch her for the day.”

Your heart swelled hearing his words, and you couldn’t help but say yes when he put it like that. Spencer, you, and Lila being your own happy little family was all you could ever ask for, and it meant more than Spencer could ever know that he had been so welcoming and understanding. He was a dream.

With a final glance at Lila and a sigh, you’re pressing another unhurried kiss to Spencer’s lips, that same lil dazed smile on his face that he got after every kiss, even after nearly 2 years. “Thank you, Spence. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replies, pressing another sweet kiss to your lips, then your cheek, then your forehead—you were gonna be gone all day, he had to get his fill while he could. “Now go before you miss your appointment.”

With a final kiss, Spencer watches as you walk down the front steps, drive away, waiting until he can't see your car anymore before he’s turning around and closing the door behind him. When he looks up, Lila is already looking at him, eyes glancing between the door and him before her small voice is heard over the cartoon playing on the tv.

“Mama?”

“Mama went to the store,” Spencer cooed, lowering himself down to sit on the floor in front of her and her array of toys. “She’s coming back, don’t worry.”

“Mama s’ore?” she whispered in her small voice, her wide eyes blinking slowly at him before her lip began to tremble. It broke his heart to see her eyes, which looked so much like yours, gloss over with tears.

“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” Spencer said, scooping her up in his arms. “She’s coming back for you. She’ll be here soon!”

With a sharp wail for her mom, the tears that had been welling up began falling in big drops, hands gripping tightly to the fabric of his shirt as she cried. Hurriedly, he began to bounce her in his arms, mimicking the way he had seen you do it countless times. He’s shushing her in a soft voice, whispering soothing words in the hopes that they’ll at least calm your crying.

Spencer wracks his brain, trying to sift through the information he had gleaned from the parenting books he had been reading for the past two years—he had started as soon as he came to the conclusion he would ask you out. Would showing her pictures of you work? He didn’t want to make things worse by making her miss you more, but maybe seeing your face would soothe her.

Transferring Lila to one hip, he fishes his phone from his pocket and opens the album of your photos, showing her various selfies, focusing on pictures he has of the two of you. After a couple of minutes her sobs quieted to sniffles and soon enough she was swiping through the pictures herself and giggling every time she saw your face.

With her swiping, it landed on a video, one he had taken of you reading a story to her before bed. At the time he had thought the voices you were using for the characters were so funny, hiding his own laughter behind his hand so that he could capture the sound of Lila’s giggles.

Spencer watches as she giggles along with herself, laughing at the way she reacts when you tickle her tummy. Spencer cant help the fond laugh the slips from his lips at the sight, bright grin tugging at his cheeks at your rosy smile.

When you arrive home that evening, only the kitchen light is on downstairs, the faint light from your bedroom guiding you as you softly push open the door. A warm smile paints your face as you slip your phone from your pocket, taking quite a few pictures of Lila, fast asleep atop Spencer’s chest, her favorite book lying next to his relaxed hand. His soft breaths rustle the hair at Lila’s scalp, her hand loosely gripping the edge of his sleeve as she sleeps.

Tip-toeing around the room, you shed your clothes from the day, slip on some pajamas before placing Spencer’s book on the nightstand. Slipping softly under the covers, you curl yourself around Spencer’s side, hand resting on Lila’s back as you fall asleep, comfortable with the people you love the most.

[coco-loco-nut]

We Can’t Be Friends

Pairing: George Russel x Reader

Summary: George’s girlfriend, a former child actor, is not well liked by the public

TW: mentions of alcohol and drug abuse, implied child exploitation

A/n: going off of the more popular interpretation of the song (ari vs the public)

requests open!🫶 masterlist

———————

You just finished filming a short interview in a docuseries with some of your former colleagues, those who fell into the same trap and downfall as you did. You prefer not to air everything out, but you knew your statement would support the others.

The industry basically forced you into a drug and alcohol addiction, one that you thankfully beat, but you went from someone who was once loved to someone hated, just from how the media spun your name.

You met George at a hospital event -you now work as a biochemist and bioengineer- and he immediately recognized his childhood crush. You dated for a year before feeling strong enough to go public, but ever since he posted a very cute picture of you, the hate has started again.

“I’ll make a statement asking them to leave you alone,” George offers but you shake your head no. He hates seeing you upset, but both of you didn’t expect the backlash on you.

“They won’t understand, they could never even try. They will never know what it was like to grow up like that, even the docuseries won’t help,” you start to dismiss the thought.

“We can’t do nothing,” he tries to reason, wanting to protect you.

“I don’t want to tiptoe around the public, but I don’t want to hide, either way I’m feeding this fire,” you groan, running your hand through your hair as you pace the room. You had to call off of work today, the entrance to your townhome being blocked by paparazzi.

“The story is gonna die, and we’ll be alright,” George stands up and pulls you into a hug. In your mind you picture the public liking you again, waiting for their love again.

A few days later, George drags you out of the house for lunch, you had only been leaving for work. The two of you step out, a reporter immediately coming up to you. You ignore the first few, sitting in your silence.

“It’s just me and you, Baby girl,” George whispers to you, supporting you however you choose to respond.

“Y/n, is it true that you have been in and out of rehab for the past year? You are in and out of hospitals,” one reporter, who always hounds you, asks causing you to whirl around. You don’t want to argue, but you don’t want to bite, so you choose a confusing answer.

“You’ve got me misunderstood, but at least I look this good,” you smirk, watching their face scrunch in confusion, gripping their paper and pen, before continuing your walk.

The next day a clip of one of your short interviews drops, taken while you were in college, as a trailer for the docuseries release the following week.

~-~-~-

I don’t like how this industry painted me, but I’m still here hanging, just not what they made me. It’s almost like a daydream sometimes, finally leaving that world. I feel so seen, I am everything that I defined myself as, not all that the industry made me be. My truth and I may always sit in silence, but one day I hope I am brave enough to say it out loud. For now, it’s only me on the road after recovery, but maybe that’s all I need.

~-~-~-

buzzfeed.com/uk

A list of every child actor we need to apologize to after watching “Drugged: The Truth Behind the Lives of Child Actors”

1. Y/n Y/l/n

~-~-~-

“Are you sure you want to go out there?” George asks, looking at the crowds of journalists. You nod, tired of being silent and waiting for things to be better, not caring about feeding the fire anymore.

“Let’s go,” you release a shaky breath, stepping out behind your boyfriend as he walks you to work.

“Y/n! Anything to comment regarding the documentary that’s been released and the allegations made by your former colleagues?” A journalist asks, the rest hoarding, pens at the ready.

“Actually, I do. You owe us an apology. Villainizing children who needed someone like you to expose how awful our working conditions were, that’s sick and cruel. You wrote lies about us, and instead of apologizing, you want to ask us for statements and exploit our names more? You’re sick. We can’t be friends,” you chem them out before continuing on your way to work. A part of you will always wait for their love, but you are tired of waiting for them to like you.

“You’re a badass. I hope they will see you are the biochemist and bioengineer, not the child actor. You’ve come so far and I’m so proud,” George says once your breathing steadies from the adrenaline.

“Thank you, Georgie,” a small part of you wants to flip them off behind you, just like you would’ve done ten years ago, but you don’t, finally moving forward.

[mirisss]

SKZ reaction to their gf being in a car crash part 2

SKZ OT8 x afab! reader

Here is part 2 of this request, it’s been quite long since I wrote the first part but I hope you all enjoy this second and last part. It’s not very good in my own opinion because I kind of ran out of ideas for it but I still hope you can enjoy it. 

Wordcount ≈ 740

Warnings, mentions of a car crash, anxiety, sort of PTSD, 

Part 1

Third person POV

A week had gone by since the accident, (Y/n) had some trouble moving around in the dorm as her leg held her back, however, she had finally gotten somewhat of a hang of how to use the crutches in the best way. 

It’s been a week, and while her mental health hasn’t been too bad, she had avoided going in a car, and she barely left the apartment. Coming home with all eight of her boyfriends on that day was hard, but she managed to do it, now, she was terrified of getting inside a car. Her whole body would tremble when she thought of having to drive again. 

Today, she had to face that fear. (Y/n) had an appointment with a doctor who had to check up on her injuries, to see how they were healing, and if they needed to adjust the pain meds. (Y/n) had barely slept anything that night, anxious over having to go in a car. 

“Hey, honey, everything will be okay, we will be there with you every step of the way,” Hyunjin said as he tried to calm (Y/n) down. “Everything will be fine, just breathe, we won’t leave your side,” Felix added as he gently squeezed (Y/n)’s hand. “What if something happens to you guys as well?” (Y/n) was crying, trembling, and shaking, anxiety had completely clouded her mind, and the monster inside her had shifted from focusing on more bad things happening to her and now it focused on something happening to her boyfriends.

“I understand that it might seem scary, but how long have you been driving without an accident?” Bang Chan asked, “A few years,” “Right, so the probability of getting in an accident isn’t that large, of course, anything can happen but try to see it positively, like it won’t happen again,” He continued as he gave (Y/n) a reassuring smile. 

(Y/n) took a deep breath and nodded, shaking out her arms in an attempt to calm herself. “We’re here every step of the way with you,” Jisung said, his own eyes trembling with worry, worry for her, he understood her anxiety more than most of the others, having struggled with it for a long time himself. “I’ll sing for you all the way if that helps,” Seungmin and Jeonging both said at the same time, this caused (Y/n) to finally crack a tiny smile as everyone looked shocked at the two youngest who lightly chuckled. “We’ll take it nice and slow, extra carefully,” Changbin said. “We’ll get through this together, just like we have with everything else,” Minho said as he gently put his hand on (Y/n)’s face, stroking his thumb over her cheek, his eyes holding nothing but love in them. (Y/n) took a deep breath, with her eight boyfriends there to help her, she would fight this fear, she would try to atleast. 

“Okay, let’s go,” She said, body still trembling, glossy eyes, and clenched teeth, she was determined to try and do this, no matter how scary it was. No matter how much her body wanted to fight it, her mind had to be stronger, and it was, with the gentle help of her eight amazing boyfriends, who helped steady her on the way down to the car, who helped her when she wanted to run away at the sight of the garage doors, who helped her get into the car with her eyes closed to try and fight the fear. With them all singing in the car, holding her hands, gently whispering in her ears, anything to distract her from the panic rising in her as she heard the motor starting and felt the car move. 

It wasn’t easy, but eventually, (Y/n) would be brave enough to travel normally in a car, until then, she had SKZ to make her feel safe. 

[xxnashiraxx]

Pairing: Astarion/f!Durge ◇ Astarion/f!OC (Ofelia)

Word Count: 6,119

Tags/Warnings: Mature (slight spice), Soft Astarion, Fluff

Summary: It's December in Baldur’s Gate and the snow is falling on Act 3 of Ofelia's adventure. After falling ill to a cold that prevents her from spreading the joy of Christmas to her companions, they decide to band together and prepare it in secret as a surprise for her. As they look for decorations, gifts, and a tree, Astarion reflects on his time with her and contemplates whether or not his gift will convey the depth of his true feelings...

divider here!

AO3 | Song Reference: Let it Snow!

Hi everyone!!! My apologies for this trainwreck, I tried my best on little time, but I really wanted to write something sweet for these two, and I owe inspiration for this oneshot to @caffeinatedmunchkin ! Thank you again friend!!! I also tried as far as the elvish, so please bear with me 🙏🏼

Please enjoy- fluff was needed for the season, and I hope everyone has a lovely day if you celebrate!!! ❤️ You do not need to read the main fic to read this one- it's its own little standalone! 💕

“So, you expect us to believe that some jolly old man goes around to every child in your world and delivers gifts on this ‘Christmas Eve’?” Gale's tone, while incredulous, remains cheerful. “That does not seem feasible, given your planet's population.”

“Well, not every child celebrates Christmas, so not all seven billion. But yeah pretty much,” Ofelia’s eyes light with amusement as Gale begins another spiel into logic and probability, causing Astarion to roll his eyes and grumble into the chalice of blood Ofelia had filled for him not but a few minutes ago.

“It's just make-believe!” Ofelia spouts around giggles, her smile bright. “Not real! Something you tell kids so they behave, but the holiday is still the same- parents get their children gifts, blame it on Santa, make cookies and leave milk out for him for his journey, hang stockings on the mantle to see if they get coal if they’re bad or sweets and little toys if they’re good. It's all for fun- I myself most enjoy the snow and decorations.” She sounds wistful as their ragtag group listens. He watches her face twist slightly as if recalling a bad memory, and he pays attention to the warble in her voice when she next speaks.

“I haven't had a real Christmas since I was still young enough to believe… my parents did everything for me, those first nine years. It was always so magical… pazole, tamales, candy, gifts- I wished they wouldn't have, but they'd do everything, take extra shifts just so there was something under the tree for me… I miss them this time of year. Just a little bit extra.” No longer afraid of the warmth that blooms in his chest, he reaches for her and when his hand rests over her shoulder she turns to him and quickly wipes the moisture from the corner of her eye. Her cheeks crease with an appreciative smile and she squeezes his hand in thanks as the others look around.

“Would you want to celebrate it here?” Karlach asks, setting her cleaned plate off to the side on one of the many little tables littered around their common space in the Elfsong.

“You guys want to?” Ofelia asks with a soft huff, hefty emotion washing from her voice amid the sweet hope that spreads over her face.

“We may not have Santa, but why not? The spirit of gift giving and love isn’t foreign here,” Gale smiles, patting Ofelia’s opposite shoulder.

“Okay… yeah! We’ll have to find a tree, and ornaments, and gift wrapping of some kind- paper will do! Stockings to hang over the fire for each of us… day after tomorrow!” Her eyes brighten at each syllable, and for all the teasing he’d love to utter, he can’t find it in himself to poke when this is the happiest she’s looked since they’d arrived in Baldur’s Gate.

And gods, if it isn’t the happiest he’s been, as well. Since Cazador fell. They still have the brain and two of the Dead Three's chosen left, but curse it all to the hells. Right now perhaps they can indulge in some respite from it all. The calm before the storm.

They move through the rest of the day restocking their supplies, tracking down various needs, and chasing some loose ends. They discover more of Orin’s handiwork littered throughout the city, much to Ofelia’s chagrin, but decide to turn in early in the hopes of getting started on their decorating. Unfortunately, fate has other plans.

“I’m afraid healing magic really only works on injuries and the like- I’m sorry, Ofelia. I know how much this meant to you… perhaps we can have it later in the week?” Shadowheart strokes the human’s face softly, her pale hand meeting russet, clammy skin. Ofelia nods, eyes shifting to a corner of the room as the half-elf leaves and shoots Astarion a pitying frown. When the door shuts, he sinks down beside her and strokes the hair off her cheeks and forehead, fever hot against his cold undead hands.

“This sucks…” She mutters, cheeks ruddy with heat as her body fights against an infection they have no hope of combatting with anything but time and herbs. Already, Jaheira had mixed what little items she had into a concoction Ofelia had knocked back minutes ago, and though a bit of color has returned to her lips, she’s not exactly the picture of good health.

“I’m sorry, darling,” He murmurs, resting the back of his hand against her cheek. He knows she likes it when he does, and she typically runs hot, but this is something else entirely and it pulls at his unbeating heart.

“No, it’s okay… it’s been so long since I’ve tried to decorate, but I did try last year- look.” She strains to her right to grab the object that always manages to mystify him and she starts to scroll through the little frozen pictures on her device before holding some up to him. “I got this really stupid fake tiny tree and I put all those little things on it, got some tinsel and hung it up around the doors and windows.” He peers down at the small room she’d once called home- bright metallic garlands trimming the entryways with twinkling lights adorning the small tree that sits on a table in the center of it. His lips tick up at the corners as he sees her in the next photo, bright red painted lips and golden eyelids, some terribly gaudy red and green jumper covering her chest.

“Beautiful, and loud. As always,” She rolls her eyes at his attempt to poke fun, leaning down more fully onto his right elbow as she tucks herself closer to him.

“I wanted to get a big one this time… really show you guys what it looks like, though I’m not sure what the hell I’d do about the bulbs, or lights, or star on top…” She smiles up at him and he feels his chest twinge with guilt. Of course she’d gone and gotten herself sick somehow…

“There’s… always next year,” He says around the strange doubt in his mind. It’s nothing but disbelief- disbelief that she’s with him at all. That she keeps telling him she loves him. That she keeps promising they’ll defeat the brain and get rid of Orin and Gortash and be able to breathe once it’s all over… together. Sometimes the incredulity of it all still catches him off guard.

“You’re such a big softie, really,” He huffs a laugh, reaching down to pinch one of her cheeks before pressing a terse kiss to the crown of her head.

“And the mistletoe, gods, can’t forget the mistletoe!” She groans, pressing a hand over her eyes as she collapses into the pillows.

“Mistletoe?” He questions. She sighs, spreading her fingers enough so that one eye peeps up at him.

“It’s silly, but you hang it up over a doorway- it’s got these spiky green leaves and cute red berries on it- and if you pass under it with someone else you have to kiss. It’s just the rules,” He smiles, lost amid her explanation though enamored by the wonder in her voice as she speaks. “I've never been kissed under the mistletoe, you know…”

“Hmm, you haven't? Seems we'll have to change that in the future.” She giggles under the kiss he presses to her forehead, careful and full of promise. When he stands he strokes her cheek once more before adjusting the blankets.

“Get some rest, I’ll bring back some soup in a little while.” He whispers, taking her device from her to set back onto the nightstand. She pouts up at him, curiosity in her gaze, and he finishes tucking her in. “I’ll be back, promise,”

Once out in the main room, he finds the rest of his travelling companions speaking in hushed voices around the fireplace, Scratch pacing near Astarion’s feet. The dog quickly ducks in before Astarion gets the door shut, and he smirks knowing Ofelia will at least have some company before he returns to bed. Nearly every morning that mutt’s laying between them or with half his body draped over her legs. She doesn’t seem to mind, and he’s starting to grow accustomed to the beast as well, much to his disdain…

“Vampire- what are we doing about this Christmas?” Lae’zel demands as soon as he’s within a few feet of them. He simpers and sits on a lush ottoman, draping one leg over the other as he accepts a glass of wine from Gale.

“Gods, Lae’zel. We’ve only been travelling together for the last few months, I’d expect you’d have remembered my name by now.” His sly remark is met with the githyanki’s signature Tchk! before Shadowheart grins.

“Now, now, try to get along you two. Your mediator isn’t here,” The half-elf snickers, and Astarion sighs, waving a hand towards the others.

“So, what were you all murmuring about before I came out here? I’m assuming it has something to do with dear Lae’zel’s questioning?” He takes a sip of the wine- an expensive sort that flows easily down his throat- and casts his eyes amongst the others as he watches them exchange nods.

“We want to put it on anyway,” Gale explains, the dark liquor in his glass catching the light of the fire. “She spoke so fondly of it this morning, and to get sick now… it isn’t fair.” Astarion hums, pondering the silence that settles over them once Gale is finished.

He’d been of a similar mind as she’d shown him her pictures- it’d be no easy task to find a tree, especially with them being in the heart of the Gate. Then there was the tinsel he’d seen… they’d perhaps be able to find something like that in the city, the baubles…

“My, my, it’s odd being amongst you all once you actually experience an intelligent thought.” Their murmurs of disbelief and annoyance fuel the smirk that spreads over his lips as he waves a hand “I’ve been snooping through her photos and I’ve got some references we can likely use, though wrestling her away from the damn thing will be a feat in and of itself.” Astarion grumbles around another swig.

“Leave that to me,” Shadowheart assures, clapping her hands together once. “I’ll run her a bath in the morning and make sure she stays in it for a few hours. To ‘leech the toxins’ so to speak. It isn’t as if she’s well versed to our healing methods to know I’m making it up,” Astarion nods, pondering, as the others chime in.

“The tree… we won’t be able to sneak that into the city,” Wyll laments, forefinger stroking over the fine hairs on his face.

“If you were able to secure a sapling, I’m sure I’d be able to encourage it to grow quickly enough.” Halsin adds, earning a nod from the Blade.

“I’ll help with that as well,” Jaheira offers, smile on her softly lined face.

“What about the decorations?” Minthara asks, frowning.

“We’ll figure something out- I’m sure there are plenty of merchants with trinkets and baubles around- Sundries may also have something. We should ask Rolan and his siblings, as well. I seem to remember that Lia had some dolls and things made for the children once they got to the city.” Astarion nods at Gale’s words, contemplating.

“And do not forget gifts for her,” Astarion murmurs crossly, eyes flashing around the room. “At least have the common sense to wrap them first,”

“Course not,” Karlach grins a wide, toothy smile, the likes of which sets his teeth on edge. He'll never let on that it does somewhat please him, however. “We'll get gifts for Ofelia and each other!”

They scatter to their personal rooms or beds, plan worked out in the dim candlelight and hearth as if they’re a secret society. He crawls into bed with his lover, her’s and Scratch’s soft snores filling the room much to his amusement. He checks her temperature, sigh soft on his lips as he rests back against the pillows when he finds it unchanged.

As he lays in bed, his mind spins with the possibilities of all the gifts he could possibly get her- if it were up to him, he’d likely not get one at all. Perhaps steal something.

Images of her adorned with pretty scarlet jewels and glistening pearls flood his vision, though something about jewelry feels almost cold and distant- too obvious a choice. Or possibly even too meaningful, something he isn’t ready for…

No… despite her expect-nothing nature, he’d like to at least try to make this sentimental and meaningful. It could be their last celebration, after all, and gods does he care for her too much not to indulge this simple, saccharine wish. He’ll need to put in the effort- just as she puts in the effort to make him feel cared for each day. He wouldn’t be where he is now without her… without her kindness. It’s a blessing he tries not to take for granted, though he does slip up from time to time. He cannot make that mistake now.

He rises from the bed, trancing left for later, as he pulls some items out of his pack and retrieves a tool kit from the main stock supplies. He’s not sure if he’ll be any good at this, but he doesn’t trust someone else to do the job.

***

“I feel better this morning, I swear…” Ofelia grumbles as Astarion kisses her awake. For the umpteenth time, she thanks the gods that he can’t catch her cold. It’s nice to indulge in a tender kiss first thing, though she’s sure she looks positively awful. Pale skin, scarlet cheeks, sweaty and clammy. She huffs a laugh and pushes him away, making to sit up and use the restroom, but her vision tilts and she stays seated, clutching her head.

“You feel better, hmm?” He trills softly, last syllable enunciated with a haughty laugh. Smug bastard.

“I swear, if I didn’t know better I’d say you’re actually enjoying this.” He stands above her, back of his hand pressing against her forehead, and she lets out a soft moan at the relief. The heat behind her eyelids slowly recedes beneath his touch, and she clutches his hand to hold it still as he hums quietly.

“Well, you do push yourself far too much, darling. Though your pain is something I do not take pleasure in, under these circumstances at least,” She rolls her eyes at the smirk over his lips, longing curling low in her belly in spite of the state of her body.

“Yeah well, you and me both.” She sighs, kissing the back of his hand, and he stoops down to place one of his over her forehead.

“I have some errands to run with Gale of all people- Shadowheart volunteered to stay with you, said she would like to try some kind of healing bath? Silly in my opinion, but who am I to question a cleric’s healing skills?” She groans, lying back on the mattress to stare at the ceiling. She’d really wanted to see if she could convince them to let her go out and find decorations, at least put them up… but it’s not looking probable. That and she’d lied about feeling better to worm her way out of staying in today.

“Ughhhhh,” Her long drawn out groan pulls a light chuckle from the elf and she reaches up to pull him down, knee between her thighs on the spare bit of mattress available, hands at either side of her head. She wraps her arms around his torso and clings to him, trying to absorb as much of him as possible before he leaves for the day.

“I’ll be back later, just relax and enjoy your bath. Maybe there'll be a reward in it for you,” She sighs into his neck, pressing a hot kiss to his skin fueled by the promise of his words, and she smiles when his muscles stiffen. “Patience, dear,” He murmurs as he pulls away and she squeezes him one last time before letting go. There’s a knock at their door and Shadowheart appears, arms laden with towels and supplies. Ofelia smiles forlornly at her, her own far too empty in Astarion’s absence.

She doesn’t notice as she’s ushered into the washroom Astarion’s quick swipe of her phone off the nightstand, or his soft smile in her direction. She doesn’t see that smile widen into a pleased grin as his fingers snake around the gift in his pocket, clutching it with a light squeeze.

***

“Do you think she’ll like it in the morning?” Gale asks Astarion softly, the fruits of their labor casting the main room in a festive glow. Somehow, he’d been able to obtain a lighting spell scroll- something Rolan had insisted upon them not paying for once he’d heard it was for Ofelia’s benefit. Astarion had rolled his eyes- that tiefling wizard ever hopelessly infatuated despite Ofelia’s vehement denial- and they’d stopped for some books as Gale’s gift to her before Astarion had found something for the man as well. His eyes also caught on a crystal carved into the shape of a crescent moon for Shadowheart, and upon realizing his gaze was tracking items for his companions, promptly huffed in annoyance. He’d grabbed the item anyway.

“I think a twig in the corner with lights on it would send her into a fit, but this is much better.” Astarion sighs, thanking the help from the Midwinter celebrations going on around the city for the garlands of pine and the berries that now hang in the frame of every doorway. It’s not as gaudy or brightly colored as the decorations in her apartment from the photos he’d shown them all this morning, but it’ll do. Even he’s feeling a bit of wonder gazing at the lovely spruce the two druids in their group had spent nurturing, as well as cladding in brightly colored glass sphere’s Karlach procured from a friend she’d known before she’d been cast into Avernus.

Presents wrapped in paper of varying colors sit beneath the full branches, a blanket protecting them from the cold floor as Scratch paws restlessly at a long, stick shaped present wrapped in blue paper with his name penned gracefully across its front. Astarion smirks- she’ll get a kick out of that one.

“Great job, Fangs. I almost forget you don’t have a functioning heart sometimes.” Karlach’s teary voice scrapes against his nerves and he sneers, shrugging his shoulders.

“Don’t go spreading that around,” They poke fun at him some more, and thankfully he’s saved by Minthara’s short temper as she demands they all get to bed. It’s almost midnight and she’s not missing a stop from the old geezer- much to his amusement. He just barely manages to duck into his room before they dissolve into a debate about whether or not she’d paid attention to Ofelia’s story, shutting it with a soft click as he stalks over to the bed, shedding clothes on the way.

He hears even breathing- her airways finally starting to clear- and just as he slips beneath the sheets he nearly yelps.

“Hiding from me all day- what, I’m sick and you’re out there looking for a replacement after I wither away?” Her tone is playful and he smirks, admiring the color returning to her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes beneath the light of the full moon. Beneath him.

“Hmm, yes, I was shopping for a new lover today. Pity they all didn’t seem to match your prowess at being irritating. And none of them had these- seems I’m doomed to solitude.” His hands cup her breasts, separated from him by the thin layer of her cotton shirt, and she rolls her eyes and pouts.

“All you’d miss are my tits and my attitude. Rude,” A smile at the corner of her lips betrays her and he grins, fangy and wide, before claiming that smile with a kiss. “Missed you…” She hums, arms winding around his waist, and he matches the sound with sincerity, finding that his day while busy was severely lacking her presence. A travesty, indeed.

“Your fever’s gone,” He mumbles, enjoying the taste of her mouth and the way her hips slightly buck into his own, the hands still firmly anchored to her chest kneading softly. She sighs, baring her throat, and it’s all he can do to not sink his teeth in. Just a bit more recovery, and he’ll indulge in her blood again. He’s holding over with animals in the meantime.

“Mmm, whatever was in that bath made me feel a lot better. And whatever the hell concoction Jaheira made me drink earlier, too- tasted awful but I think it helped.” Her eyes find him and he brushes the hair from her face, slowly sinking onto his side and off of her.

“Good, perhaps we can get back on schedule tomorrow since you’ll be done lazing about.” She scowls and smacks his arm away before yanking the sheets up beneath her chin.

“And I was going to offer you my mouth- jerk.”

“I’ll still take it.”

“Haha. Goodnight.” He smirks and presses a kiss to her lips before lying back, eyes tracking over the beams on the ceiling as she snuggles up close and rests her head over his bicep.

“Goodnight, love.” He whispers, heart tethered to the small gift he intends to give her tomorrow, hope brimming at the fringes of his mind as he pictures her opening it.

***

“Astarion! It’s snowing look, look, wake up!” He does with a start as her hands shake his shoulders, startled out of the trance and back into the real world. For once, his reverie was clouded in visions of her and not nightmarish memories, and as he opens his eyes he yawns.

“It’s been snowing the last couple of days,” He murmurs, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he rises and lets her drag him to the window.

“Yeah, but this one’s stuck,” Her grin is nearly contagious and he fights back the compulsion to instead press his cold nose to the back of her neck as he pulls her into his arms, hands resting over her belly.

“It’s cold, white, a pain to deal with… I’m not sure what you’re so excited about.” He mouths lazily at her pulse point, delighted as her heart beat speeds up, and she laughs.

“You realize you’ve just described yourself, right?” His lips idle over her skin and with an annoyed sigh he bites enough to leave the impression of his teeth but not pierce, earning a satisfying gasp of surprise from her.

“Get dressed, I think you can leave quarantine for breakfast, today,” He knows the plan- pretends that the routine is back to normal. She slips from his arms and goes to her pile of clothing- gods, is she messy- and pulls out some comfortable pants and flashes him a look.

“Get out, I’m going to change.” She demands and he scoffs.

“I’ve seen you naked more times than I can remember, why can’t I stay?” He plays the part of mock dissatisfaction, though he’s silently pleased. It’ll give him an opportunity to check and make sure the dullards outside are ready.

“Just- out!” He huffs, pulling on a pair of pants before making for the door. His tadpole seeks Gale’s, and upon confirming that they’re aware it’s just Astarion exiting the room, he slips out and closes the door behind him.

“She almost ready?” Wyll whispers, tweaking some of the garlands over the mantle as Lae’zel places little rocks in each sock. She’d been far too amused at the prospect of coal for naughty behavior, and had been adamant that none of them deserved candy and would all get a piece each to keep them in perspective. He has to admit, it is a little amusing.

“Getting dressed- should be any moment-” Just as the word leaves his mouth, the door behind him opens and he steps to the side with his heart in his throat.

She’s completely silent, hair brushed into soft waves laying down her back, proper attire donning her body save for the slippers on her feet, and they all hold their breath as her gaze sweeps over the room.

“Hu-huh…?” She mumbles, breath catching, and he watches intently as moisture begins to bead in the corners of her eyes. They all exchange glances, frozen in anticipation, before her hands cover her mouth and she starts to sob. “You guys? Are you serious?”

“Merry Christmas!” Most of them chant- Astarion forgets, Minthara’s nose is buried in a fragrant chardonnay but she tilts the glass in acknowledgement- and they all rush her before he has a chance to dodge them. He’s swept up in Karlach’s large wingspan as she tucks them together and squeezes until white blotches dot his vision, yet the delight from Ofelia keeps him from complaining too loudly about it. Mostly.

She turns to him between embraces, eyes round and soft, and his chest goes tight as he offers her a smile reserved for no other but her. It’s sweet when she returns it- steals the breath he doesn’t need from his lungs, and when she goes to pull him in she clings to him and whispers little reverent ‘I love you’s into his ear as if he’d hung the moon itself. Pride and affection blooms within, and he presses kisses to the side of her head where the others can’t see, though he wouldn’t mind if they did. He’s long past the notion of hiding his feelings for her. From himself or otherwise.

They push her into the best seat- one the others usually fight over- and Karlach excitedly pulls gifts from the pile to start passing around. Astarion’s gift to her is tucked behind the tree and hidden- saving the best for last. Hopefully. No, he’s confident.

Ofelia laughs at the coal in the sock, munches on fudge from the bakery near the entrance to the upper city, enjoys the books Gale’s gifted her and the plush dog that Lia had sewn and stuffed. She remarks about the lights, face brighter than he’s ever seen it, and forces Minthara into a tight hug and kiss on her plum cheeks as Ofelia clutches the necklace adorned with a single ruby charm and spider etched into its stone. The drow protests and growls in annoyance, but it’s all really just for show. Once turned away, she smiles into her cup and quickly clears her throat afterward.

They all offer her small trinkets or treats, and he’s content to just sit and watch, but he’s swept up by the spirit of it all as he opens small packages with his name on it. A silver pocket watch from Shadowheart, a silken kerchief from Wyll, a new scabbard for his dagger in dark leather from Lae’zel. He’d not expected anything, even vehemently enunciated that this is for her, not him, but despite his claims it seems no one listened to him. What else is new?

“That’s it!” Karlach proclaims from beside the tree, tossing candy and pastries in her mouth by the fistful as the others sip on warm beverages or partake in alcohol around the heat of the fire. His eyes go to the frosted window, the entire city covered in a blanket of white. He decides, for the first time, that it looks much better this way.

“You didn’t get anything for Ofelia?” Gale asks, and Astarion’s hackles raise as he feels the ire rise and claim the atmosphere.

“I saved the best for last,” He stands with a flourish, calming the mood before his head ends up on a pike. “Besides, who went to all this trouble?”

“Don’t take all the credit!” Shadowheart snaps and he smiles as he turns his back to them, going behind the tree to pluck his gift from beneath an alcove in the wall. His eyes linger over shiny red paper- this, at least, he'd stolen. For a moment, he hesitates. His fingers wrap around it, her name glaring back, and he wonders if this will be good enough. He'd seen everyone's carefully thought out gifts, hells, had even managed to hit the nail on its head a few times for the others. But Ofelia? She's the one he needs to get right. Above all else, he can't fail.

He steels himself and turns, each step towards her smiling face making him question the object in his outstretched hand, and when she takes it he stands stiff and still- making no move to breathe or blink or talk. She gingerly unwraps it at the seams, her pulse racing in his ears as she continues to pry back the paper, and he watches her stop as a soft breath vacates her lungs.

“Star…” It feels as if a century passes before his eyes when she finally speaks, pulling the dagger from the paper to hold up and admire. The metal flashes, light glancing off the engraving near the hilt- one she speaks in hushed tones as if in prayer.

“Nin anor,” Her lips shape around the elegant script as if she's painting it in the air, and once it's hanging around them he knows it's right. Knows it's right in the way she looks at him, in the way the sun, through a break in the clouds, casts a golden glow around her. It breaks on her skin and sinks in, frames her like it did that day in the sand, that day he'd first tasted freedom. The first day he'd met her and had heard her heart quicken beneath the sharp edge of his blade- the blade she now cradles in her hands.

Purpose, like a compulsion, stole his mind the moment chisel met steel. Illuminated by candles, he'd carved in elvish the words he's said to her over and over, again and again. Against her lips as he makes love to her, into the crown of her head as he pulls her into an embrace. Softly, against her forearm as she returned to herself enough to let go of his neck and fight the urge…

“My sun…” He breathes back, and she's out of the chair faster than he can blink. With a laugh that's no more than a huff, he wraps his arms around her and squeezes back, smiles as she laughs and sniffles and sighs.

“I love you,” It's quiet against his ear, and a barely perceptible shiver trembles through his limbs in reply. He'd been worried for nothing, and that's cemented further when she pulls back and the grin on her face renders him speechless.

“A knife? You got her a knife?” Karlach asks, bewildered, and the tension in his limbs falls away when Ofelia looks at him and laughs. This time, he doesn't fight the impulse to join her and it's freeing and juvenile, but worth the joy it brings.

***

“It's the one he threatened me with when we first met,” Ofelia smiles as she finishes off her plate of roast meats, fresh greens and potatoes. She pushes it towards the center of the table, leaning back in the chair as she admires the way the fire looks as it dances in his crimson eyes. He's beautiful, and her heart slams into her ribs like it's trying to break free- that look he gives her never failing to stir an ache in her chest that feels like it consumes just as much as it grows.

“Hmmm… and how is that romantic?” Gale asks around the cookie in his mouth. Ofelia chuckles at his muffled words, about to speak when Minthara beats her to it.

“Is it not provocative to feel the sting of your lover's blade against your skin? The dance between pleasure and pain, the testament of your trust in them not to supply too much pressure lest they end your life?” Gale swallows thickly, stiffening when the drow places her hand on his arm. “If you do not understand, I will show you tonight, wizard.”

Their group laughs, partaking in drinks that almost remind Ofelia of home. Something that tastes like hot chocolate fills her belly as Astarion holds her close, swaying softly to the music that pours from Ofelia's speaker- an old favorite.

“Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow,” She murmurs against his shoulder, echoing the melody as he squeezes her hips.

“You liked your gift?” His voice is quiet- almost shy. Her arms circle him tighter, letting him guide her through the room as their companions slowly start to filter off to bed. The entire day had been like a dream- a perfect, beautiful reprieve from pain or worry. Something rare and sweet- sorely missed in the years since and filling the empty hole in her heart with so much that it almost hurts to contain. Family. Love.

“I'll cherish it forever, Star,” She smiles, pulling away to stroke her fingers over his cheek. It's cool beneath them, and his smile is relaxed as it spreads over his face. She bumps the door frame to their room with a soft laugh and his gaze lifts up above her head, causing her to redirect hers and stop almost disbelievingly over green leaves and white berries.

“There weren't any red,” He hums softly, but her throat is dry and her ears are filled with cotton when she looks back at him. Moonlight turns his hair to silver and his skin to marble, and as she looks at him and watches him lean closer, she's not sure if she'll ever deserve the affection he now presses to her lips.

Hands tangle in her long hair, chest to chest, the taste of wine on his tongue- her stomach clenches in fear of the future, of losing it all, of making a mistake or failing to free them from the brain. All of it looms like a dark cloud, trying to swallow her whole, but then he's pushing them into the room, shutting their door and latching it. He's driving her back, legs folding until she's forced to collapse onto the mattress, heat pooling in her belly low and needy when he goes to push her sweater up over her head.

“I feel bad I didn't get anyone else a gift,” She whispers and he snorts, discarding his shirt onto the floor as he starts to untie the shirt barring him from further access.

“Anyone else? What did you get me?” She laughs when he stops, frozen at the sight beneath her clothes.

“I got these a few days ago… was going to at least do this since I couldn't get presents or decorate.” His irises narrow into thin lines between the enlarging of his pupils, gaze dragging down her form as he tugs her pants down and off. Ribbons and lace, scarlet and black, cradle her breasts and expose the underside of them while big red bows conceal her nipples. Her underwear leaves nothing to the imagination, either, and his lips part around a raw hum of appreciation when he discovers with his eyes the way the fabric conveniently vanishes beneath the waistband.

“Gods…” It's brittle and needy and she smiles wickedly when his clothes fall to the floor.

“Unwrap me?” She whispers.

“Yes,” He breathes.

She laughs as his fingers find give on the bows and he pulls them apart, mouth chasing his touch as he pushes her thighs back and sinks inside. She sobs his name as he sets a feverish pace, mind nothing but foggy desire and heady affection. Affection for him, for this, for them. She clings to him like her life depends on it, canting her hips in time with his, every sensation as intense and lovely like she's experiencing it for the first time.

She leans in and kisses his ear, revels in the shivers that shake through his body when she tightens her grip. They're teetering over the edge, now- drawing to a close. But even so, she knows it won't be the end. Not when she's right where she's supposed to be.

Like the phantoms of quivering tree limbs, the warmth of the sand beneath her body, the flash of a blade while rubies danced in her vision she feels him. Feels him in every pore, every beat of her heart as he meets her eyes and opens his mouth to speak. Soft and full of promises they never knew were made that day on the beach.

“Nin anor,”

[ladynoirjuly]

Ladynoir July 2023 is almost here! We are very excited for this year’s event and hope you all are ready to create some content since we are missing it in canon right now! Super huge thanks again to one of our mods @chocoluckchipz for making this amazing calendar (with some assist from @ladyofthenoodle)!

The Ladynoir July discord server came up with and voted on this year’s prompts. If you would like to be part of the prompt selection process in the future, or if you just want to hang out in a quiet, salt-free server that loves Ladynoir, feel free to reach out for an invite in DMs.

To participate in this event, use the prompts (also written out below the cut) during the month of July to create art, fic, gifs, music, cosplay, anything you want! Just be sure to @ this blog and use the tag #ladynoirjuly2023. You do not have to do the prompts in order, nor do you have to do all of them. Do as many or as few as you’d like, and, most importantly, don’t forget to have fun!

That being said, please keep in mind a few rules:

1. This is a salt-free event. Please keep all of your submissions free of heavy critique/bashing of the show/characters/ships.

2. Please keep your submissions centred around Ladynoir. You may include other corners of the Lovesquare, but the majority of the work should be revolving around Ladynoir.

3. This event is open to people of all ages. NSFW submissions are allowed, but please put them under a Read More and tag appropriately.

4. Have fun!

Works that do not adhere to these rules will not be reblogged.

If your work hasn’t been reblogged within 48 hours, please, check if you’ve mentioned this blog in your post ( @ladynoirjuly​ ) AND tagged your work with #ladynoirjuly2023. If everything is in order but your work was still not reblogged, please, reach out to the mod team. We’ll do our bests not to miss anyone, but sometimes things slip through.

We can’t wait to see what you all come up with this year!

Wedding Bells

Emergency Contact

Truth or Dare

Cards

Shooting Stars

That Costume Suits You

My Boyfriend vs Your Girlfriend

In Another Life

I Lied

Trust Fall

Don’t Let Go

Trapped

In the Dark

Lingering Touch

Shared Dreams

Rewrite the Stars

Roses

Sunrise

Vigilante

Undercover

Masquerade

Entangled

If I Never Saw You Again

Out of Time

In the Rain

Oh… oh.

Name

You Still Have Me

Back to Back

Against the World

In Every Universe

[afyrian]

line five - the switch up m.list

    "good morning line two! so, what would you like to talk it out about with me today?" your legs cross in your seat, a giddy smile on your face. 

  eyes glancing to the sound booth, sakusa's looking down at his gear. his hair falls forward into the same perfect swirls from the night before, only this time hairs slightly stick out from a night of rest. for the first time with him in the booth, you feel comfortable, relaxed. to the point of almost missing the caller's entire story.

  "-so i told him, what the hell! because seriously, who the hell goes on a date with someone and then talks about his ex the whole time? sorry eliza left you for some bodybuilder, but you are on a date with someone! then he told me that i'm being inconsiderate of his feelings," a young woman, probably a few years younger than you, vents on air.

  there's a tone of distress in her voice, one that carries with every word she says, "like, i'm a people pleaser and so suddenly i feel bad. even though in retrospect i probably shouldn't, right?"

  "well, caller, my rule of thumb is to never talk about an ex while on a date. sure, if you're in a long term relationship and you have fears regarding how you were treated in a previous one, then bring that up. but on a first date? just talk about your dream career or something," you grab ahold of a pen, tapping it against the table.

  "but you shouldn't have to feel bad about bringing up the fact that him talking about an ex is disrespectful to you and your time," taking in a deep breath, you can feel something inside of you want to turn your attention to sakusa again. 

  something about him intrigues you, past becoming friendly enough to do your job. talking to him the night before felt freeing. like you could talk about anything with him. 

  "i told atsumu that there was no way i would join his talk show. i love the dude but i was not going to talk about my 'late night rebounds' with him on the air," your elbow leans against the table, chin resting in your hand, eyes stuck staring into sakusa's. 

  sakusa nods, taking a bit of cake that was still left on his plate, "trust me, you are not the only victim of atsumu miya's talk show. he somehow convinced me to join his show for a day as his 'special guest'. most embarrassing moment of my life and i'm actually glad they forced me onto your show."

  "i'm glad too," you simply say, smiling at him until you feel your heart racing quicker, "that they forced you onto my show too, since you are a phenomenal sound engineer."

  "right," he agrees, turning his head away as you compliment him. 

  you’re brought back to the world when the girl laments about how you’re probably right. the only issue being that she’s already apologized to the man, nearly planning a second date with him. your jaw drops as you listen to her, head leaning forward and resting against the palms of your hands. “should i message him again? tell him that what he did was unacceptable?” 

  “no, your conversation has ended. bringing him back into your life will only prolong your discomfort, you know?” you ask, trying to appear more personable, knowing the way you’ve been speaking has been more clinical, “save your own peace and move on.”

  she pauses for a moment, your foot tapping incessantly against the flooring. “yeah… you’re probably right. none of my friends really got my problem so talking to someone is comforting,” the caller laughs, a quiet and gentle laugh. 

  waiting until she hangs up, your finger hovers over the laptop, a song waiting to play. “well, now that we understand setting boundaries a little better, let’s play a song. i’m thinking today we’ll give ‘misses’ by dominic fike, a listen,” you start the song, gaze flickering back to sakusa for only a second.

  staring back at the light indicating your mic is on, it turns off, giving you the opportunity to get up and stretch your legs. pushing back from the table, you make your way to sakusa, your hands resting in your pockets. walking up to the sound booth door, you lean against the doorframe. there he sits, staring down at his phone.

  “uh, would you want to grab some coffee while the song plays? i have a couple extra songs ready in case it takes us a minute,” you crack the door open, talking to him with a smile across your lips.

  sakusa looks up at you, his eyebrows furrowing. instead of accepting your invitation, he shakes his head, lips pursed, “one of us should be here in case something happens. plus i’m not really feeling like coffee right now.”

  his attention immediately returns to his phone, his headphones propped up on his ears. you can feel your face scrunch up into a disgusted expression. the last night was nice, talking to him was nice. and now he’s acting like you didn’t bore your life plans and dreams to him. that the two of you didn’t have a genuine connection the night before. 

  stepping back from the door, you take in a deep breath, shaking your head. a part of you wants to believe that it’s merely him being tired, even hungover. however, you nearly catch his gaze as he looks back up at you, a sullen feeling boring into you. 

a/n: happy birthday jade!! 🎉 taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

@jadeoru @yessimo @lale-txt @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @sugacor3

@quikhs @todorokiskitten @mollyrolls @honeyfewr @pookiebearcave

@phoenix-eclipses @madiexuberant @kameyyy @cr4yolaas @asrichin

@bakugouswh0r3 @bakingcuriosity @zazathezaer @diorzs

[steddieas-shegoes]

For the requests: Steve has a good relationship with his parents & when they come back from wherever & someone (Nancy/Robin) tells them about the UD & his parents react by calling out every single adult involved. Maybe he got badly hurt, & they were called in & upon finding out they call out Joyce, Hop, Owens & Murray for the way no adult inthese kids lives had any clue about what their kids were going through. Nor were their parents given notice esp bc having underaged kids sign NDAs is not legal nor legally binfing (Maybe all the parents of the party kids are there and get all the info just like the Harrington's)

MY DARLING! LIGHT OF MY LIFE! HONESTLY this one hit different. You know how much I love making Steve suffer and when he has good parents, a lot of his suffering disappears. But it was nice to branch out a bit. Also finally some common sense! KIDS SHOULD NEVER BE SIGNING AN NDA THEMS THE FACTS! Steve's parents are here to fight for everyone so WELCOME TO THE CHAOS OF STEVE'S OVERPROTECTIVE LAWYER PARENTS! - Mickala ❤️

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

Steve Harrington had managed to avoid the hospital for years. Not because he shouldn’t have gone, but because he refused to go.

But this time, he was unconscious, which means he didn’t have a choice.

And now, staring at his parents’ shocked and appalled faces next to his bed, he realized he wished he’d just died, actually.

“This happens…often?” Anne Harrington asked Dr. Owens, who looked like he wished he was also dead.

“It does happen more often than we like. But it appears to be fixed now! Steven has been a wonderful asset to us, which is why we want to make sure he is comfortable and all his medical expenses are paid.”

He handled that well, Steve thought.

“And this is the first time anyone has bothered to call us?” Richard Harrington asked much too quietly.

That was his ‘I’m about to lose my shit’ voice and Steve didn’t have the energy to deal with it.

“I do apologize, we had to deal with enough NDAs as it is,” Dr. Owens replied, not realizing that he was speaking to two lawyers who were about to ruin his life.

Steve let his head rest against the pillow of the hospital bed, sighing.

“At what age did Steve sign his first NDA?”

“I believe he was 16.”

“And did he have a lawyer present?” Anne didn’t wait for a response before continuing. “I can tell you he didn’t. We’re his lawyers and we were not even called. Are you the one in charge of this shitshow?”

It wasn’t often Anne Harrington said a curse word. Steve only ever heard it a handful of times, usually after hanging up with a client who would lose their case.

“I am one of the people who is tasked with this, yes. But if you don’t mind, I need to check in with a few people before I can truly devote time to this conversation.”

“Oh, please. Continue on with your day. Don’t mind us sitting next to our son in the hospital.”

Dr. Owens sighed, knowing this fight was barely even starting, and left the room.

Steve’s parents turned to him.

“How many concussions have you had?”

“Why didn’t you call us?”

“Who else knows about this?”

“Will this happen again?”

The questions were too much, and Steve’s head was pounding. He couldn’t do this right now.

“Hopper.”

“Jim Hopper? I thought he died.”

Admittedly, his parents had been out of town for a while. They didn’t know Hopper was back as of a few months ago, and probably didn’t realize he’d taken over as chief again.

“He didn’t. He’s around here somewhere.”

“He knew about all this?”

“Mom, I love you, but my head is splitting down the middle. I need to stop talking.”

Anne slowly brushed her hand through his hair, planting a kiss on his forehead.

“Of course, honey. We’ll be back soon. Do not sign anything without us here, okay?”

“Okay.”

His dad briefly touched his shoulder before they both left the room.

Finally, some peace and quiet.

Until he was woken up by yelling.

Not just any yelling. Richard Harrington yelling.

If he wasn’t chained to the bed by an IV and blood transfusion bag, he would be up and in the hallway.

Apparently, he didn’t need to worry, though.

His mom came into the room, leaving the door open to the hallway so he could hear everything.

“I’m glad you’re awake, honey. We have a lot to talk about.”

“Who is he yelling at?”

“Every adult who didn’t bother to take care of you the way they should. Not just you, but all of these kids,” she said, tone more annoyed by the second.

“I don’t understand.”

“Honey, you’ve been protecting these kids in ways you never should have had to. All these adults who were involved never told any of us what was going on. They let you keep standing in the line of fire, getting hurt, seeing things you shouldn’t have to and never even bothered to call us. You signed NDAs with the government without parents or lawyers present. That alone is illegal, do you understand that?”

“So I’m in trouble?”

“Oh, honey, no. You’re not in trouble. Your dad’s having a few words with the chief and Dr. Owens.”

Steve tuned in to what was being said in the hall.

“I cannot fathom what you’ve done. Expecting these children to save this town, the world, and not even have their own parents know? Who are they supposed to turn to? You? And what have you done to help them? As far as I’m concerned, you should be arrested and imprisoned. If I have anything to say about it, you will!”

“Mom, can you please get him to stop? I know he’s upset, but Hop really protected us a lot, okay? And Dr. Owens was just doing his job.”

“A lot of people have just been doing their jobs instead of considering that maybe children shouldn’t be responsible for defeating actual monsters.”

Well. Yeah, she did have a point there.

“Where is everyone?”

Anne sat on the edge of his bed, holding his hand, running her thumb along the back of it.

“The Munson boy is in the room next door, he’ll be okay. Robin is home with her parents. Most of the kids are now with their parents, but that Sinclair boy is still being watched for concussion symptoms.”

Steve sighed with relief.

No one was lost. Everyone had pretty minor injuries. Maybe he was able to protect everyone.

“That Dustin boy is relentless,” Anne said with a smile. “He really looks up to you.”

“Yeah, he’s like a brother to me.”

“His mom didn’t know about any of this either, did she?”

Steve thought about it.

Honestly, she probably had some idea. Maybe not of the real details, but she had to know Dustin was involved in something he couldn’t talk about. Same with most of the parents.

But Steve’s parents were gone a lot. Their main office was in Boston, and they would often have to travel around the country for their clients. He was used to not seeing them, only getting to talk to them on the phone once or twice a week.

It’s easy to hide shit over the phone, and when they did manage to make it home, the Upside Down monsters were safely tucked away underground.

They had no way of knowing anything was wrong. He did it on purpose, just like all of the kids did.

Even without signing the NDAs, he’s pretty sure they wouldn’t have told their parents.

“I think we just thought we were protecting you guys.”

“Honey, it’s not your job to protect us. It’s our job to protect you.”

She looked so sad.

Steve didn’t want her to be sad.

“Mom, you couldn’t have done anything. And we’re all safe.”

His dad walked in the room, face red. He closed the door behind him and ran his hand over his face.

“Doctor said Steve can go when the nurse comes to disconnect him from everything soon,” he said, coming to sit in the chair by his bed.

“That’s good news. We’ll get you home and settled. We canceled our flight out so we can stick around for a while and make sure you’re okay,” Anne said with a smile.

“You guys don’t have to cancel your trip. Your clients need you.”

“Not as much as you need us, son,” Richard said, giving him a soft smile.

“I’ve handled it before, though.”

“And you shouldn’t have. Trust me, this town, the government, they’ve got a shit storm coming and I’m leading it,” his dad huffed.

A knock interrupted Steve’s response, the door opening slightly before they answered.

Eddie.

“Steve? You okay?”

Steve’s parents looked at the door, then back at Steve, who was doing his best to hide the fond smile on his face.

It wasn’t working though, not when he saw the way Eddie was trying to take inventory of his injuries from across the room.

“You can come in, Eds.”

“Who’s this, honey?” Anne asked.

“This is Eddie.”

“Oh! You poor thing. I heard all about what you’ve been through. Let me just say, if we had caught wind of it earlier and knew you were Steve’s friend, we would’ve been representing you in court,” Anne rushed to say, her hands fluttering over Eddie’s when he got next to the bed.

Eddie’s wide eyes would have been amusing if Steve didn’t worry that he might run for the hills at the care his parents showed.

“Uh. Thank you?”

“Do you need anything right now? Do your parents need anything?” Richard asked, sitting forward in his chair, business face on.

“Um, just me and my uncle, but no. I’m heading home, but wanted to check on Steve before I go.”

“Of course! You guys are close friends?”

It was an innocent question. His parents just liked to know who was in his life, that’s all. But Eddie looked at him with panic written all over his face.

Steve gave him a small smile, then turned to his parents.

“Actually, he’s my boyfriend.”

They were quiet for a moment, which Steve expected. No matter how well he thought they’d take it, he knew it would be a shock.

But his parents didn’t let him down.

“How long have you been together, Steve?”

“Since March. Four months?” He watched as Eddie started to back away, probably expecting the worst.

Anne smacked Steve’s arm, forgetting for a moment that he was in the hospital for a reason.

“Sorry,” she said before crossing her arms. “You’ve had a boyfriend for four months and didn’t tell us? We could have come back and arranged dinner to meet him. I’m so sorry our son is rude, Eddie. He wasn’t raised that way, I assure you.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped.

“Um. What’s happening right now?”

“We’ll be home for a while to make sure Steve is alright. We’d love to have you over for dinner soon. With your uncle if you’d like,” Richard added as Eddie just stared between them.

“What do you like? I just got a new cookbook that has so many European dishes I want to try. Are you a fan of Polish food? You know what, no, what about Greek? We haven’t had good Greek food in so long.”

Steve was laughing, he couldn’t help it.

“Steve, what the hell is going on here?”

“Eddie, that’s my mom, Anne, and my dad, Richard. They’re kind of the best, and apparently they want you and Wayne to come for dinner. Think you can find time in your schedule?”

“Uh.”

“Oh dear. Do you have a concussion? They should monitor you kids better,” Anne worried, moving her hands up to cup his cheeks and look in his eyes. “Should I get a nurse?”

“No, mom, he’s okay. He just expected you two to freak out.”

“About what?”

“The fact he’s a man.”

“Oh! I do suppose that’s a reasonable concern.”

“Eddie, let me ask you this: do you make Steve happy?” Richard asked.

“I think so.”

“And he makes you happy?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then it sounds like we have no reason to be upset. Now, dinner? Maybe tomorrow night?”

“Okay.”

Steve laughed loudly.

“Eds, come here,” Steve gestured for him to come closer.

Eddie moved next to the bed, his arm bandaged, and a new cut with stitches in it on his forehead.

“Closer.”

Eddie leaned in.

Steve leaned up and kissed his lips. Just a quick peck, just enough to get the point across that this was really okay and really happening.

“Tomorrow at 6?” Steve asked before he pulled away completely.

Eddie nodded.

“And please bring your uncle, we need to discuss our plan for a lawsuit on behalf of all of you,” Richard spoke up from his chair.

“Oh. Yes, sir.” Eddie pulled away from the bed, nervously playing with his rings.

“Richard is fine, son.”

Eddie was blushing, which Steve was absolutely going to make fun of him for later.

“See you tomorrow, then?” Eddie asked awkwardly.

“Love you, Eds.”

“Oh. Uh. Yep. Love you too, Stevie.”

He raced out of the room, leaving Steve and Anne laughing quietly.

“Poor boy. Didn’t know what to do, did he?”

“No, I think he isn’t used to a positive reaction when people find out about him.”

“His uncle knows about you two, though, right?”

“Yeah, Wayne’s been great.”

“Good. Well, I’m going to find a nurse so we can go home. You should be comfortable in your own bed.”

“And I am going to make a quick call to my buddy in Chicago to see if he can pull some information on this Owens guy. We have a lot of work to do.”

Steve was used to this. For some kids, maybe this wasn’t good parenting. Maybe his parents being gone for a lot of his life had a negative impact.

But Steve never doubted how much they loved him. They still came home for every birthday, every Christmas. They still managed to take a family vacation every year. They gave him everything he needed and most of what he wanted. They supported him through everything, the proof right here in front of him now.

[augustvandyne]

Andy x reader

The reader is pregnant asff and she’s home alone when she goes into labor and the crew races to their house and Andy ends up delivering the babies

adorable and i love andy so much. i can’t believe this is our last season with her

labor

You weren’t even showing any signs of labor this morning, so imagine how surprised she was when you’d given a distress call to the station.

Initially, you’d called your wife’s cell, three times, but she wasn’t answering.

Which meant she was out on a call, and there was no way she’d make it back in time to drive you to the hospital.

She’d texted this morning, like every morning since the two of you had found out about your pregnancy, and told you who would be working front desk. She told you if you needed anything to text or call them.

You were really thankful it was Travis today.

He would get you to the hospital fast and efficiently, as well as crack a few jokes so it wouldn’t feel like a million years away.

You’d called the station, holding your stomach in the worst pain you’d ever felt.

“Travis,” You groaned. “It’s time.”

“Y/n?” Travis frowned. “Oh, wait, it’s time? Like— like baby time? Like that time?”

“Yes!” You cried. “My water broke and i’m having really bad contractions. Come over right now and take me to the hospital.”

“I— okay. What about Andy?” Travis said, putting the phone on speaker as he put his coat on hastily.

“What about her?” You are leaning against the couch. You sit on the ground on your knees, your chest on the couch cushion. “I called. She didn’t answer.”

“Well— let me switch you to my cell.”

The three beeps came as he hung up, but he was fast about callings you back.

“They just finished their call,” Travis said, a car door slamming in the background.

“Okay,” You say breathlessly, enjoying the feeling of comfort before the next contraction starts.

“Do you want to call her?” Travis asks.

“Yeah. Hold on,” You hang up on him, quickly trying your wife again.

“Hello?” Andy answered, a smile evident in her voice.

“Hey— oof,” You get cut off as the next contraction hit you hard. They were getting closer together and more painful. “I’m— I’m in labor, Andy. You need to get here now.”

“Oh, I— I’m on my way, cariño,” Andy nodded. “We need to go to my house right now.”

She told Maya and you could hear the sirens turn back on as the truck accelerated.

“Please don’t get in an accident,” You plead, “Oh my god this hurts like a bitch.”

“Hey, language!” You can hear Jack shout from the background. “What? The baby hears everything.”

“I sure hope not,” Maya jokes, receiving a slap on the arm from Andy.

“Okay, okay,” Andy rolls her eyes. “You called Travis like I told you?”

“Yes, I called him as soon as I called you the first three times,” You cried out in pain. “He says he’ll be here in a minute.”

“I’m sure he broke every traffic violation to get to you, Herrera,” Maya joked again, and she probably wasn’t wrong.

You were the closest to Travis out of everyone on the team (besides Andy), and he’d probably do anything for you.

Andy hears Travis tell you to get up off the ground and helps you onto the couch.

“Here,” Travis puts a pillow under your back to relieve some of your pain.

There’s some silence as he helps you get settled and check for your dilation.

“This isn’t how I wanted this to go,” You complain.

“I know, but we’ll never get you to the hospital in time,” Travis insisted. “You don’t want to have your baby in my car, do you?”

“Travis, talk to me,” Andy demands.

“She’s nine centimeters, Andy,” Travis looks at your phone with concern.

“Do what you have to. We’re two minutes,” Andy lets out a shaky breath.

“Hurry.”

You can all but hear the sirens as the phone hangs up.

“You got this,” Travis insists. “Andy will be here in a second, and you’re going to be a champ about this. I know this isn’t how you wanted this to go, but your baby will be brought into this world with love.”

“I love you, Travis. You know?”

“Mm, tell me some more,” Travis laughs as you grab his hand, all but crushing all the bones.

Travis cries in pain as Andy bursts into your guys’ house.

“Hi, my love,” Andy gives a quick kiss to your head, then immediately goes to the open spot between your legs.

Maya followed in behind Andy, along with Jack.

Then Ben, Dean and Victoria were in the second truck behind them, so it was a full party in the Herrera house.

Victoria stood by Andy’s side in case she needed to tap out, but Andy never did.

“You got this baby,” Andy nodded. Seeing you were crowning, she told you it was time and told you to begin pushing.

It didn’t take long, and it made sense considering how long it took for you to begin labor.

Ben, Jack and Dean had to step out of the house for a few minutes because it was beginning to be too much, and you were beginning to lose your patience with them.

Maya suggested they go get some sandwiches for dinner and ice for you, because they were beginning to run out of ice to smash up for you to serve as ice chips.

Travis, Maya and Victoria never left your side once, and never complained. You loved them for that.

Travis had to give his hand a break at times, so him, Victoria and Maya switched and held your hand.

You cried the whole way through it, and all but broke all three of their hands.

But in the end you and Andy had a beautiful baby girl.

“Well,” You sighed, holding the gorgeous creature in your arms. “I think we’re gonna need a new couch.”

“Decide on a name, idiot,” Travis chuckles.

The two of you hadn’t really even thought about names. You wanted the gender to be a surprise, so you didn’t know where to even begin. And the pregnancy flew by so fast, you didn’t even realize you were so close to your term.

“How about.. Luna?” Andy looked into your daughter’s beautiful brown eyes.

“I love it,” You smile in content. “Luna Pruitt Herrera.”

“Pruitt..?” Andy looked at you in surprise.

You told her you had the perfect middle name a few weeks ago, but never told her what it was. No matter how much she begged.

“It’s perfect,” Andy kisses you on the lips, the two of you admiring your bundle of joy.

The men did eventually get back with sandwiches, and all of you spend the night together.

(After you take a shower, of course)!

[tortillamastersblog]

𖣂 Not My Commander - Part 4 | Lexa kom Trikru 𖣂

Pairing: Lexa kom Trikru x reader

Warnings: Blood, violence, injuries, cursing and some steamy scenes

Summary: Sending a hundred underaged prisoners down to Earth to find out if it’s inhabitable again is undoubtedly immoral, so The Council decides to send you down first, rather than float you for your crimes.

If you survive for more than a couple of hours, they can —in good conscience— send down the 100. If you don’t, well, then good riddance.

Disclaimer: This story has been discontinued for the time being!

Previous Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

“How’s this look?” I ask, stepping back from the pottery wheel.

Milo peeks out from behind the vase he’s painting before getting up and inspecting the plate I just made. “Looks good, but try again from scratch. You still need a little more practice.”

I smile and go to grab another slab of clay. “So, you think we’ll be able to sell some of my stuff soon?”

“Absolutely.” He goes back to painting his vase with a smile of his own and strikes up a casual conversation about the paint he uses.

I listen attentively and get back to work as well, trying but failing to keep a permanent smile off my face. I haven’t felt this carefree and happy since landing on Earth.

Milo showed me his shop a week ago, but I’ve been back every day since then and when he offered to teach me how to do pottery the third day I visited him, I accepted immediately.

We work effortlessly together and we never run out of things to say. He tells me all about pottery and his life before losing his foot (it’s the reason he’s no longer a warrior), and I tell him about life on the Ark.

He asked about my family once a few days ago, but quickly figured it wasn’t something I like to talk about when I kind of froze up. Since then, he hasn’t brought it up again which is something I’m extremely thankful for.

Gustus, who still has to accompany me whenever I leave the tower uses the time I’m with Milo to grab a bite to eat and catch up with some friends.

It’s not like anything is going to happen while I’m here, so I managed to convince him to leave while I’m here. He’s still close by, don’t get me wrong, but he’s no longer breathing down my back.

The other grounders have also started relaxing around me more, especially now that I’m no longer just sitting around the tower all day. By working with Milo I’m actually doing something for the community and the fact that my Trigedasleng is improving daily also helps in bettering their opinion of me.

Titus is still a pain in my ass, but he’s happy with my progress and usually just teaches me in the morning before leaving me to my own devices.

A throat clearing behind me makes me stop the pottery wheel. “Are you taking me back to the tower already?” I ask without turning around, figuring it’s just Gustus who’s come to get me. It’s already pretty late and I’m sure I missed dinner, but I couldn’t care less.

I get lost in the work here and I enjoy spending time with Milo. He might be a couple years older than me, but we get along really well and whenever we hang out time just flies by.

I start packing up my stuff, thinking nothing of the silence I get in return (Gustus is not a man of many words) until I look up and see Milo staring past me with wide eyes.

I frown and turn around. “What’s got you all—Oh. . .” I freeze and clench my jaw when I see Gustus isn’t alone.

Standing next to him in her armor and with her war paint around her eyes is Lexa.

“Hello,” I say politely, keeping my chin up while Milo drops to his knee next to me.

“Commander,” he breathes, his voice laced with reverence.

Lexa eyes him, looking almost bored when she says, “Milo, good to see you again. How’s business?”

Milo’s eyes flicker up to her in disbelief. “G-Good, Heda. Really good. Thank you for asking.”

I raise an eyebrow at the whole interaction. It still doesn’t fail to surprise me how respected and admired Lexa is amongst her people.

Lexa nods, satisfied before she turns her attention to me. Her eyes travel over my clay-covered apron, over my dirty hands and up to my face. Her face stays motionless but her left eye twitches ever so slightly. “Y/N.”

I nod in acknowledgment. “What are you doing here?”

Milo gapes at me, his eyes wide with horror.

He probably thinks I have a death wish talking to his commander like this. . .

Lexa swallows visibly and averts her eyes for a split second. “I was nearby and thought I’d stop by. Gustus says you’ve taken up a job here, yes?”

I want to ask her why she cares because I’m still bitter about the necklace incident four weeks ago, but then I figure I should just be civil because she’s being polite and we’re in public.

She might not be my commander, but I don’t necessarily want to start a fight with her in front of her people.

“It’s not really a job because I’m not being paid, but I do help out around here and Milo is teaching me how to make pottery,” I say, keeping my voice level.

Lexa’s eyes dart between me and Milo. “I see.”

“You got a problem with that?” I snap, suddenly feeling defensive.

So much for staying civil. . .

Milo chokes in surprise and flinches. Gustus raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything while Lexa clenches her jaw.

“No, not at all.” She says calmly even though hurt flashes across her eyes. It’s so quick, it’s barely visible, but I notice it.

It makes my stomach flip uncomfortably and when she goes to say something else I cut her off with an apology. “Right, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap like that.”

Her eyebrows fly up at that before she quickly schools her features back to calm. “It’s alright. . . I’ve got to get going now. Gustus will take you back to the tower once you’re ready.”

I send her a tight lipped smile. “Okay.” I pause and reluctantly add, “Have a good night.”

“You too, Y/N.” She holds my gaze longer than necessary before turning to Milo. “Goodbye.”

Milo who’s been rendered speechless by our interaction only manages to wave awkwardly as she leaves.

Then, once she’s gone and Gustus has also excused himself, he turns to me with wide eyes. “How the fuck are you not dead right now?! Do you always speak to her like that?”

I snort and shrug, not answering his first question when I say, “No, not always. But we kind of got into a fight a while ago and I’m still a little pissed.”

“Holy shit.” He laughs incredulously. “She must really like you then because no one else could get away with something like that.”

Feeling my ears tingle, I turn around and get to work cleaning my station. “It’s hardly a big deal.”

Milo scoffs and all he says before getting to work on cleaning his paintbrushes is, “Yes it is. It’s a huge deal, Y/N.”

“No, no, no, no, no.” I throw all the furs and pillows off the bed, feeling tears prick my eyes.

My necklace is gone. I just got back from Milo’s and was getting ready to go to sleep when I noticed that it was gone.

After the clasp broke I kept it under the pillow on the bed because I was too afraid of losing it if I just stuffed it into the pocket of my pants.

Well, it’s seems I’ve managed to lose it anyway and there’s no way I’m going to get it back now.

I sob and grab the water pitcher from my bedside table, smashing it against the opposite wall in a fit of rage and despair.

I’m acting like a madman, I know, but that necklace was all I had left of my family.

I run my hands through my hair and pull at it, falling to my knees with my eyes squeezed shut.

This can’t be happening. . . All this has got to be some elaborate nightmare.

Shaking and crying quietly, I think of Bellamy. If he were here right now he’d know what to say to calm me down.

He and my dad were the only ones that used to be able to calm me down whenever I was upset about something back on the Ark, but now neither of them is here and I’m left to deal with my overwhelming feelings alone.

I continue pulling at my hair, whispering no, no, no, over and over again until a hand on my arm makes me flinch. My eyes fly open and I scramble backward until my back hits the bed frame. “No, please. . .”

I don’t like being touched when I’m upset, especially not by a stranger.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. What’s going on? Are you hurt?”

That voice. . . I blink in surprise only now realizing who’s crouched on the ground in front of me.

Green eyes shine with concern and long dark hair is pulled into a simple, uncharacteristic braid.

“Are you hurt, Y/N?” Lexa asks again and when I shake my head her shoulders relax visibly. “What’s going on? The guards said they heard a commotion coming from your room?”

I don’t say anything, just jut my chin in the direction of the opposite wall where the broken piece of the water pitcher lie on the floor amidst a puddle of water.

Lexa glances over her shoulder, her eyebrows furrowing at the sight. “What happened?”

I blink slowly, feeling numbness settling in my chest. I’m done, done being upset, done being mean to her, and done trying to change how I feel about my new life because it doesn’t change anything at the end of the day.

“My necklace is gone,” I croak quietly.

Understanding flashes in her eyes and she moves a little closer, making sure she does so without touching me. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I know it meant a lot to you. I’ll help you get it back.”

I sigh. “Yeah? How? Are planning on strip-searching all your people?”

She doesn’t hesitate. “If that’s what it takes.”

I stare at her for what feels like an eternity but is only a couple of seconds in reality.

Why is she helping me? Why is she still being nice to me? Why did she take me in in the first place? She could have just killed me and been done with it. So—

“Why. . .?” I whisper.

Lexa holds my gaze and gulps. Before she can say anything though, the door flies open.

“Heda, what are you—?” Titus’s eyes widened when he sees his commander kneeling on the ground. “What’s going on here?”

Lexa freezes for a split second, her concerned eyes still on me. Then, the emotion is wiped off her face and she gets to her feet. “What are you doing here, Flamekeeper?”

Titus’s glances at me suspiciously, but I couldn’t care less about him at the moment. I just lost the one thing that connected me to my old life— my family—, so a judgy old man like him won’t get under my skin.

“I came to talk to you,” he says, his eyes darting back to Lexa. “But you weren’t in your room and the guards said you were here so—“

“You followed me.” Lexa’s voice is cold and void of any emotion, the complete opposite of what it was only moments ago when we were still alone.

“No —I mean, yes I did, but only because the guards said something about a commotion.” He clasps his hands behind his back, his eyes roaming around the room until they land on the broken water pitcher.

“And you don’t think I can take care of myself?” she challenges him with a raised eyebrow.

“Of course not, Heda!” He almost sounds offended. “I was just confused why you were personally dealing with a disturbance when the guards—“

“The guards-“ Lexa cuts him off once again, her body rigid with tension- “are under strict orders not to enter this room, Titus, you know that.”

Titus glances at me once again, a snarl on his face. “Yes, Heda, but—“

“No.” Lexa raises a hand. “Just stop patronizing me and tell me why you were looking for me.”

The snarl on Titus’s face worsens and he clenches his jaw, obviously doing his best not to look at me again while Lexa pins him down with a glare. “Ai don’t think osir beda discuss disha hir, heda.” (I don’t think we should discuss this here, commander.)

I roll my eyes and run my hands down my face. The fact that he thinks I don’t know what he’s saying after he’s been the one to teach me their language for the last couple of weeks makes me believe he’s even dumber than I originally thought.

Lexa stares him down a moment longer before turning to me, her eyes softening the tiniest bit. “Fine.”

Titus seems pleased and smirks, only to scowl again a second later when Lexa tells him to leave and that she’ll be right with him.

“I’m sorry about that,” she says once he’s gone, turning back to me.

I wave her off and lean my head back against the bed. “It’s okay. I know he’s a pain in the ass.”

Lexa chuckles. “W-What?”

I furrow my eyebrows and try to ignore the way my heart skips a beat at the sound of her laugh. “What what?”

“I’m not exactly familiar with the term pain in the ass, but I’m sure it describes Titus accurately.” She smiles softly, her eyes twinkling in the low light.

“Oh.” Sometimes I forget English isn’t her first language. My lips twitch into a small smile of my own. “Well, it means he’s annoying.”

“Mhmm.” She nods and bites her bottom lip to hide her smile “That he is. I’m going to have to remember that one.”

I huff, amused, and drop my hands in my lap. “Yeah, do that, but I think you should go now because if you don’t he’ll come back and I’ve honestly seen enough of him today.”

Lexa chuckles again and nods before turning serious. “You’re right. I guess I’ll see you around then.”

I nod as well and watch her leave. Before she can close the door behind her though I say, “Thank you, Lexa.”

She freezes, but doesn’t turn around.

“For everything. And. . . I’m sorry for being such an ass to you lately.”

Looking over her shoulder with an unreadable expression, Lexa swallows harshly before saying, “It’s all water under the bridge now, Y/N. . . Good night.”

“Good night.”

_______________________________________________

I don’t like how this turned out and I’m honestly out of ideas regarding the future of this story, so I might just discontinue it or wrap it up in the next two-or-so parts.

Anyway, love you all! <3

- Soph

Tag list: @tigerlillyruiz @department-store-bazooka @hikyiwid

[lovelytsunoda]

can't stand the rain // george russell

summary: the nights are always long and lonely when she misses her lover. but dating a formula one driver isn't easy, and she knew that when she started dating the most wonderful and exciting man that she had ever met.

pairing: george russell x female reader

warnings: longing and pining! the harsh reality that which would be dating someone like george russell, but there is a happy ending! allusions to sex, but not written out.

I can't stand the rain, against my window cause he ain't here with me//hey window pane tell me, do you remember how sweet it used to be? when we were together everything was so grand//now that we parted there's just one sound that I just can't stand

it was on nights like these that she missed george the most.

rain drops crashing down against the window panes, a steady haze of fog rolling across the english country side.

she hated that sound when he wasn't here to share it with.

y/n was sitting on the couch by the window, a scented bath and body works candle on the coffee table, burning and filling the main floor of the house with that simple, summer scent as she wrapped herself in a blanket, powerpoint presentations reflecting off the blue light lenses as she typed.

dating someone as magnetic and larger than life as george russell was no easy feat. the days and nights were long, the timezones too much to bear as his schedule demanded he jet off to some faraway country every weekend.

sometimes, it felt like her george wasn't actually her george, but the world's george.

she slammed her laptop shut, rubbing her eyes under her glasses before she turned on the tv, dialing in to sky sports as the warm up for the evenings race began.

if george were here, they would be watching some stupid movie on netflix (last rainstorm it was bait, a movie about tsunamis and twelve foot long sharks), with the plush calvin klein blanket pulled tightly around their bodies until one of them got tired of the film and started getting handsy.

something about the rain always got george russell going. those afternoons usually ended up with y/n on her back, georges gentle kisses against her skin as he made love to her, the pitter patter of the rain in the background.

she missed him.

the race ended, and she sent him a congratulations text, knowing that he did the best that he could in a car that wasn’t where either mercedes driver had expected it to be.

she blew out the candle, phone in the back pocket of her jeans as she moved to the kitchen of a house that felt too large for just her alone as she warmed up the kettle.

her phone rang, and she slipped the small device out of her pocket, beaming as she swiped up to talk to the most important man in her life.

“hey, beautiful.” george russell beamed from the other end of the line, and the other side of the world. “how are you feeling?”

“tired.” y/n laughed. “uni is relentless. remind me why I decided to go to law school?”

“because I wanted a strong, powerful girlfriend?”

“hilarious. it’s killing me slowly.” she grimaced, placing a bag of peppermint tea in her indigo mug. “you had a good race today, honey. I know the car is shite this year, but you’re driving the hell out of that thing.”

“you know what, I think I’m finally getting the hang of the car.”

“that’s really good, georgie. I’m proud of you.”

george smiled sadly, wishing that he could reach through the phone and hold his lover in his arms. every part of his skin, his body aches for her touch, for the feeling of cradling her in his arms again.

“I miss you. I’ll be home before you know it, yeah? you’ll wake up in a few mornings and I will be there and you’ll get to wrap your arms around me and we’ll make the most of the time we have before I have to go to the next race.”

“I wish it were easier. I wish I could come with you.”

“I know, sweetheart. I know.”

two days passed since that phone call, and the rain showed no signs of stopping. a few times the downpour has lightened to a manageable drizzle, but it was still as if the clouds in the sky were reading her emotions.

reading how much she longed for georges presence.

how she missed watching him play backgammon with his mates at the table by the french doors, sunlight refracting on his face.

how she missed his touch, even when it was the touch of his cold, cold feet in bed.

how she missed his cooking, even when he burned the simplest of dishes and ended up ordering takeaway (and swallowing his pride).

the weather outside reflected how she felt, but that fact did nothing to make her feel better. george was stuck in team meetings, despite the promise of a two week break before the next double header began.

she was debating the merits of going to visit her parents in the city, reconnecting with the world and getting away from her feelings and her term papers. it seemed like all she had done since george left was drink peppermint tea and pore over old court documents.

until the morning all was right again.

the sunlight was orange as it filtered through her curtains, the sun just beginning to rise over the hilly countryside. she heard footsteps, and the sound of the creaky bedroom door swinging open.

she’s have to to tell george to fix that.

george.

she didn’t believe her eyes. there he was, kneeling in front of the bed to kiss her forehead. she grumbled his name, trying to peel her groggy eyes open.

“I’m right here, darling. caught an earlier flight. there’s an iced coffee in the fridge for you.”

she smiled, reaching for his hand. “I missed you.”

“I know, love. can I join you?”

“you may.” she hummed, pulling the blankets back up over her shoulders. normally she would have loved to watch her boyfriend undress, but this morning she was far too sleepy to care about the sound of georges heavy hilfiger belt hitting the hardwood floor.

eyes still closed, she felt the mattress dip next to her as george slipped underneath the covers, taking her into his arms. she sighed contentedly, resting her head on his bare chest as the driver ran his large hand up and down her back.

“I love you, y/n.”

“I love you too, george william russell.”

TAGS

@daydreamingleclerc @libraryofloveletters @magnummagnussen @scuderiamh @sidcrosbyspuck @oconso @cl16version @cartierre @monzabee

[soupgoose]

New Year's Kiss

Just some simple, sweet Captaineer fluff to start off the New Year!

Word Count: 979

:] 

A/N at the end.

The old ship was full of life for the first time in nearly a year. Colorful lights were strung across its hull, hanging limply as its former passengers cheered all around and inside it. 

The colony had long since outgrown the ship, leaving it docked in the center of their established city; And while very few still needed their old offices and work spaces, the Invincible was well taken care of. 

She hadn’t seen the majority of her passengers for months, and now, as the live-streamed feed of Earth’s New Year’s countdown filled almost every screen aboard, each and every one stood somewhere inside or around her. 

The joy and excitement surrounding the Invincible was palpable and warm. They’d have their own celebration here in a couple months, marking the colonies first full rotation around their new star on their new home.

Many years had passed on Earth throughout the Invincibles journey, including a couple more as the colony had struggled to establish solid and instant wide-spread communication with their home planet.

However, at the moment, everyone was excited to celebrate the New Year; despite having not been on Earth for decades, they knew where they came from. Where home was.

Laughter and music filled the hall, the sound flooding in as Gunther slammed open the door, Mark cringing at the abuse of its automatic opening mechanism.

“Are y'all joinin’ us or what?! Midnight’s comin’ in fast!” 

The gaggle of his lackeys chimed excitedly in agreement behind him, holding what looked to be a concerning amount of explosives.

“We’ll be there in a second! We’re just finishing up this meeting you were supposed to come to.”

Celci retorted, rolling her eyes at the man’s usual disregard for professional occasions, as Burt shook his head in similar disappointment. 

The Captain’s short laughter pulled their attention back to their end of the table. “Oh hush! it’s alright you two; we can reconvene later.” 

“Are you sure, Cap’n?” Burt asked, surprised.

“Yes! Now, get out of here! Go enjoy yourselves, get some drinks! Enjoy the holiday!” The warmth in their Captain’s voice was enough to ease any lingering hesitation; and, for better or worse, only encouraged whatever inane plans Gunther and his lackeys had in store; Their crazed laughter could be heard as they disappeared down the hall.

Celci and Burt groaned tiredly, worried for their immediate future, before bidding their Captain a Happy New Year and following the group.

The Captain watched proudly as their closest friends left, seeing a solid happiness in their eyes. 

“Well, Captain? Are we heading out too then?” Mark mussed from behind them, his hand resting against their shoulder as he approached.

Pulling the rest of his arm across their body, and leaning into his side, the Captain chuckled. 

“Nah- We’ll join them in a bit- Let Gunther get the majority of his pyromania out before I have to deal with it.”

“Before we deal with it. After all-” He gently reminded them, taking their hand in his “-We’re partners aren't we?”

They chuckled again before agreeing warmly, squeezing the engineer’s hand back comfortingly, “That’s right.”

The countdown neared closer to 0 on the deck’s console screen, the cheering both outside and in growing louder with excitement. The Captain’s eyes lit up happily, watching the scene playout outside on the deck below. The two could almost make out Gunther’s voice from the deck as he happily barked orders at the people below.

A large ring around an impressive display of explosives formed, the distance between the people and the center set by Gunther’s group. 

10! The crowd exclaimed, beginning the final countdown.

“I think,” the Captain began slowly, “Yes, this might be my first New Year’s.” they hummed. 

“Here- Like this I mean.”

9! The people prepared their party crackers and sparklers.

“Yeah? Hmm, yeah me too. I think so anyways.”

8! Gunther finished fiddling with the makeshift display. 

“Considering everything, I think everything’s finally working itself out.” Mark’s tone grew slightly sadder, a melancholy smile taking place across his lips.

7! Celci watched worriedly from a safe distance away with Burt, chewing at the inside of her lip. 

The Captain smiled, nodding into his embrace. “I think we’ve done just fine, Mark.”

6! The fuse sparked to light as the gunner dashed away, a crazed look in his eyes.

They turned in his arms, standing face to face as they wrapped their forearms around his neck.

5! The spark disappeared into the cardboard casing as Gunther dashed away.

Their eyes met, filled with adoration and pride. A smile pulling at their lips. 

4! Gunther appeared at the sides of his coworkers; Laughing happily as he shook the shoulders of the shorter woman.

“We’ve done just fine.”

3!

A soft blush dusted their cheeks as their foreheads rested against each other.

2!

After millions of attempts, countless lives, and endless searches for the other- 

1! 

They had finally done it right. This was finally it.

Happy New Year!!! 

A collection of booms and crackles erupted violently from outside, lighting the dark sky with vibrant colors. The main deck of the ship was illuminated by the display, silhouetting the forms of the Captain and their Head Engineer.

Their lips met his, soft and warm. A gentle pull to their reality. One unbothered by the USA or converging timelines. One where no one was to blame for things outside of their control. One where everyone was safe and sound on their new planet. 

One where they were in each other's arms. For good this time.

They pulled apart after a moment, laughing warmly to themselves as they did.

A hopeful sparkle shone in the Engineer’s eyes as they looked at them.

“Happy New Year. Captain.”

A soft look filled their eyes, their smile widening across their face as they returned their forehead to his.

“Happy New Year, Mark.”

Happy New Year everyone! I hope this year brings good fortune and happiness to your life.

I won't make any grand promises of posting more, but it is one of my goals to make more time for writing more often, so take that as you will!

Side note, it appears that I've gotten a few asks but I can't view them, neither on desktop or on mobile so I hope I haven't missed anyone. If I have please feel free to send me a DM! Life is pretty busy in collage but I will try my best to get to them.

That being said, Happy New Years and I wish all an amazing 2025! Thanks for reading!

-Soup :]

[strawberry-lemonade-kisses]

Missing You (18+)

Warnings - Filthy smut, MINORS DNI OR I TAKE KNEECAPS, sex, slight body worship, Obanai calls reader mommy once, swearing

“There he is! Welcome home to the Number one florist in Japan!” Confetti flew out of the small popper you had set off, your daughter laughing wildly from where she was strapped to your chest. You cheered some more as your husband actually stepped through the front door, setting his suitcase and backpack down as he looked at the array of streamers and balloons taped to the wall. You even managed to hang a banner that said #1 Florist with a bunch of flowers painted on it. He smiled, pocketing his face mask as he approached you, encasing you in his arms. 

“Thank you babe, and you as well Kami.” You smiled, bouncing your baby and leaning in for a kiss, plus a few more. Kami babbled as Obanai crouched so he was face level with her.  “Did you do all of this?” She gurgled in response to his question. He groaned as he stood to his full height again, bones cracking back into place as he stood. You gave him a once over, making sure he wasn’t injured in the 5 hours since you last contacted him. His hair was pulled out of his face, wrapped in a low ponytail, a few black strands framing his face. Exhaustion laced his features, the stress from the competition and the time spent on his feet, lifting, and organizing extravagant displays had no doubt taken a strain on his body. 

“Are you hungry? I can make you something real quick” You asked, watching him move.

“No, I’m alright, just tired. Really glad to finally be home, seemed like the longest week of my life” You chuckled at his dramatics. You would have never pictured this would be the man you ended up marrying. When you first met Obanai he was shut off, quiet, and reserved as he glared across the convention center. You were younger then, fresh out of college and teaching your very first class. He was still interning and still wary of people after years of home-schooling and familial abuse. Years later though, he was a completely different man. Affectionate and caring, he was vocal about his needs and even better at asking for help. You had helped each other grow so much that it was exciting every time you woke up next to him in the mornings.

“I’m going to put Kami to bed and then If you want we can relax in bed? You can tell me about your trip” He nodded, leaving a kiss on Kami’s forehead as he walked by with his luggage.

“You know I never pictured Sanemi would agree to help you and your team. We’ll have to invite him over for dinner and drinks as a thank you” You noted, shutting the bedroom door behind you. Obanai emerged from the en suite bathroom, a towel wrapped snuggly against his lithe frame, his years of hard work evident in the way he carried himself, muscles pulled taunt around his body. 

“Don’t worry, I paid him along with the rest of the team with the winnings, they’ll be fine. Even though I did promise him a beer.” He didn’t bother with clothes, immediately retreating to the bed, tossing the towel somewhere behind him as he crawled into the blankets, tucking himself in with a yawn. You chuckled, shaking your head as you picked it up, discarding it into the laundry basket. You peeled off your pants, leaving you in a t-shirt and your panties for bed. Obanai’s arms were open as you tucked yourself into bed, inviting you into his embrace for the night. 

“I missed you. Both of my girls. But especially you” His words even simple ones still managed to get your stomach all bubbled up, a cheesy grin overtaking your face as you rested your head on his chest, listening to the soft thump of his heart. 

“I missed you too, you chose to start a shop to ease the burden of you being gone for research and now you're leaving for shop purposes. I’ll have to quit my job and become a roadie with you now. We can live in an RV” Obanai laughed, the rumbles from his chest shaking your head, making you look up at him.

“We don’t need to do all that. It’s once a year, and this title will be really good for business. Then I can hire more people and spend more time here with you two” You nodded, placing a kiss on the skin under your head. 

“I’m glad your home though, my number 1 man”  He laughed, hand coming up to cup the back of your head.

“I’m glad as well my love, getting to hold you again. I missed you” You hummed, leaning up to kiss him. His mouth was enthusiastic against your own, tongue quickly sliding over the seam of your lips, begging for entrance. The kiss grew heated quickly, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, pulling him closer. You moved, swinging a leg over his hips so you straddled him causing You to gasp into the kiss feeling his cock bump into your clit, the friction lighting up your senses. Obanai continued to devour your mouth, hands squeezing at the fat of your thighs, slowly inching towards your panties. 

“Missed you” He murmured into your skin, trailing kisses along your jaw. “Missed all of you” he sucked at the skin on your neck, teeth grazing the flesh, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You couldn’t stop your hips from grinding against his, the only thing separating him from you was a thin pair of lace underwear, not enough to stop you from feeling every vein on his cock, every inch sliding against your steadily dampening core. His hands wandered under your shirt, sliding the fabric off you before reconnecting his lips to the skin on your chest. “So pretty, always so perfect. You make such a beautiful mommy, all full." He licked at

 Your nipple, teasing it and bringing it to a peak before wrapping his lips around it. You moaned, nails scratching at his scalp.

“Baby, please. I want you” Your pleas fell on deaf ears as he worshipped your chest, pinching at one tit as his mouth serviced the other. He switched sides, leaving both breasts covered in his saliva, sensitive and covered in quite a few hickies. 

“Think we should have another, fill you back up” He looked up at you as he palmed your tits, a wicked smirk forming on his face. 

“Oba, please” you breathed, grinding against him with more urgency, every ounce of your body thrumming with pleasure but still begging for more. You lifted your hips, taking control as he watched on. Impatient as you were you opted for just moving your panties to the side, not wasting time before grabbing Obanai’s cock and lining him up at your entrance. He kneaded the fat of your ass as you sank down on his length, a hiss sounding from him as he watched his cock disappear into you. You both moaned as he bottomed out in you. Leaning forward you captured his lips in another rushed kiss, teeth bumping as your tongues moved against each other, exploring like it was the first time. He swallowed each of your moans eagerly as you bounced on his lap, not letting an inch of space come between the two of you. The drag of his cock was enough to make you delirious after just a few thrusts, breaking from his mouth you let out a salacious moan, encouraging him to buck up into you, meeting your own bounces with his thrusts. 

“Fuck baby, just like that” He whined, sitting back against the headboard so he could watch you fully. Tits bouncing with each thrust and head thrown back in pleasure. Between your pussy gripping him like a vice and the view on his lap he was closer to cumming than he would have liked. His hand found your clit, fingers rubbing harsh circles on the bud. You jolted in surprise, hands flying to grip his shoulders as you cried out. It had been a long week for the both of you, so much time apart from each other, not able to feel the other. Every curve, every dip. This time each touch felt like another first, fingertips leaving sparks of pleasure in their wake. If you weren’t so impatient you would have taken more time with each other, maybe even done some foreplay. But that could wait for later. Now you just wanted to be connected, to feel the other. 

“Obanai, I’m close” You gasped. The stimulation becoming almost too much far too quickly. 

“yeah? Come on baby” Obanai encouraged, rutting up into you. The noises coming from between the two of you were pure sin the slick slapping of your hips meeting each other, coupled with the heated gasps and moans tumbling from both of your lips as you both chased towards your orgasm. Your toes curled, hips meeting each of Obanais thrusts with great force as the waves of ecstasy rolled over you. Obanai continued the movement of his hips, feet planted on the bed as he neared his own climax, voice cracking into a whine as he muttered praises. “so fucking good baby, yeah, always so good for me, fuck I missed you, this tight little pussy, fuck yeah” The words were slurred as he slowed down, hips stuttering as he came, spilling himself into you. Pulling you into another kiss Obanai groaned, leaning back into the headboard and pulling you with him so you rested on his chest. Obanai peppered small kisses on the top of your head, hand drawing patterns on your back as you caught your breath.

“Is it cheesy to say welcome home now?” You broke the silence with a laugh, moving so you could look up at your husband.

“No, but I’m glad to be home.”

[seeminglyranch87]

Taylor & Travis Timeline

July 2024 - Part 2

July 13 - The Tortured Poets Department to spend its 12th consecutive week at #1 on the Billboard 200!

Travis Kelce is seen dancing along to Taylor songs while competing in the American Century Championship charity golf tournament in Lake Tahoe, Nevada. A member of the crowd shouts out "It's alright, you still got Taylor!" to which Travis replies "you ain't lying there."

The Eras Tour, San Siro Stadium, Milan, Italy N1

Taylor debuts a Fearless Era costume made by Italian Roberto Cavalli and a new version of the TTPD gown with lyrics from Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?

Wonderland x The One (guitar) & I Almost Do x The Moment I Knew (piano) Swallow a bug version!!!

The crowd sing "Sei Bellissima" (you are very beautiful) to Taylor during the acoustic section and hold up signs saying "We are enchanted to meet you after 13 years" during Enchanted.

July 14 - Travis Kelce's final day competing in the American Century Championship charity golf tournament in Lake Tahoe, Nevada.

The Eras Tour, San Siro Stadium, Milan, Italy N2.

Taylor wore a new mauve gown for the Speak Now era.

Mr Perfectly Fine x Red (guitar) & Getaway Car x Out Of The Woods (piano)

July 17 - The Eras Tour, Veltins-Arena, Gelsenkirchen, Germany N1

Superstar x Invisible String (guitar) & False God x Slut! (Piano)

“We’ll still worship this love even if they call me a slut!”

KitTay - during Midnight Rain.

Travis attends his 13th show

Taylor & Travis leave the stadium together (x x)

Taylor Nation promoting our favourite couple...

July 18 - The Eras Tour, Veltins-Arena, Gelsenkirchen, Germany N2

Speak Now x Hey Stephen (guitar) & This Is Me Trying x Labyrinth (piano)

“Would they write a song for you? NOPE!” (x)

“I Just wanted you to know I’m falling in love” (x)

Travis attends his 14th show.

Taylor & Travis leave the stadium together (x)

Once again Taylor Nation on the Tayvis train...

July 19 - The Eras Tour, Veltins-Arena, Gelsenkirchen, Germany N3

Paper Rings x Stay Stay Stay (guitar) & It’s Time To Go x Better Man (piano)

“ I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings.” “That's when you came in wearing a football helmet. “I'd like to hang out with you for my whole life. Stay & I'll be loving you for quite some time.”

July 20 - Chiefs Training Camp, St Joseph, Mo - Chiefs veterans including Travis arrive for training camp.

July 21 - Chiefs Training Camp, St Joseph, Mo | Day 1

Travis attends KC Chiefs training camp - El Travador is back with the moustache! (x)

July 22 - Chiefs Training Camp, St Joseph, Mo | Day 2

People article (x) An insider shares...

“Travis’ last few concerts were bittersweet. They knew their time together like this was coming to an end and he made sure to spend every minute he could with Taylor." Swift and Kelce's demanding schedules often force them to be in different cities, but the source says the "Fortnight" singer and the NFL star take any opportunity to spend time together as their relationship nears the one-year mark. "It’s definitely tough to be apart but they do everything they can to make it work and show up for each other," the source shares. "They’re so in love and very, very happy together. All their friends and family can see it.”

July 23 - The Eras Tour, Volksparkstadion, Hamburg, Germany. N1 Rain show

📸 Gregor Fischer, 23 July 2024

Teardops On My Guitar x The Last Time (guitar) & We Were Happy x Happiness (piano)

Chiefs Training Camp, St Joseph, Mo | Day 3

STOP... This is adorable!

July 24 - The Eras Tour, Volksparkstadion, Hamburg, Germany N2

📸 Gregor Fischer, 24 July 2024

Last Great American Dynasty x Run (guitar) & Nothing New x Dear Reader (piano)

So many people in the audience with lit up balloons during Willow

Chiefs Training Camp, St Joseph, Mo | Day 4

Go to previous update -> July 2024 part 1

Go to next update -> July 2024 part 3

Return to the timeline

[ohtobealady]

For the one-word prompt: America (Cobert related)

Oh, Anonny! What a fun prompt! Thank you. I'm afraid this is more cobert adjacent, but I still hope you like it.

(play some 1920's jazz in the background for this one)

----------',----------

America

“Eh, I’d say you earned some fun.” 

Robert forced a huff of a laugh at Martha before he replaced his empty tumbler on the table. For the thousandth time, his eyes went to the portrait hanging to the left of the mantelpiece. The painted image of his wife, thirty years younger, stared back at him. 

“But you’ll keep him away from Frank’s, won’t you?” she spoke to Harold now who had begun to stand. “We all know how he’s managed to steer clear of charges.” Robert watched her rub her fingertips together, quirking one of her brows. "I've had enough of you in the papers, but I don't believe in bribes. At least not anymore."

“No, Mother. We aren’t going to Frank’s. Oscar Dupuis is hosting.” 

“Oh, well then.” Martha chuckled, and the ice in her glass tinkled when she brought it to her lips. “I’m sorry I have to miss out.”

He didn’t understand why Harold laughed, rolling his eyes, and Robert didn’t care to inquire. Instead he stood and followed his brother-in-law. 

Harold didn’t speak again until they were in the dark backseat of the car. 

“They’ll have drinks, though I can’t promise they’re as good as ours,” he adjusted his coat and tossed a glance in Robert’s direction. “But it’s best not to ask too many questions.” 

“Seems to be a slogan of yours,” Robert muttered under his breath. He was tired. He was homesick. He didn’t want to go to this party, but Harold had insisted, as a thank you. “Will there be many guests?”

Harold shrugged. “Hard to say. Not really one of those sorts of parties.” 

“I see. I did think it rather late for a dinner,” he found himself admitting. Harold, to his surprise, laughed aloud. 

“Oh. It’s not a dinner.”

The car stopped, and even before the chauffeur opened the door, the sounds of laughter and light jaunty music filtered through the night. 

Somewhere beyond Robert’s attention, as he climbed from the car, he could hear Harold’s voice saying, “Come at two, Morris.” But he was much too distracted to worry about having to make small talk into the wee hours. The facade was grand: marble pillars, pink roses climbing high, electric chandeliers sparkling through the eight-foot tall windows. Behind him, beyond the crunch of the gravel beneath car tires, he could hear the sea crashing against the rocks below. The ocean breeze was sticky and sweet.

“C’mon.” 

He snapped his head to Harold. 

“We’ll say hello to Oscar.”

Inside felt even more foreign. Everyone spoke too loudly. The little jazz band the hosts had hired bounced as they plucked their strings and blew their horns. People all turned and smiled and greeted Harold, parting before him and fawning over him, perplexing Robert to no end. A too-blonde woman with diamonds on every finger waved in their direction, calling out, “Harry! You’ve made it!” 

Robert shrank back. Beside him, Harold was shaking hands with four men who, to Robert’s surprise, guffawed when Harold gestured back toward him. He felt uncomfortable.

The woman’s smile was broad and white as she came between him and Harold, kissing the air beside Harold’s cheeks. 

“Where’ve you been Harry? I haven’t seen you in ages!” 

“New York,” he took a short glass from a serving tray a waiter passed by with. “We’ve been wiggling our way out of a few tight places. But I shouldn’t have to explain that to you.” 

Robert lifted his chin at Harold’s eye contact, even if he didn’t understand the wink he gave him, but the blonde woman squealed. “Oh! You’re terrible, Harold Levinson!” 

“And who’s this?”

He hadn’t noticed the other woman who spoke, her long pearl necklace looped once, tightly, around her long neck. Her dark hair was cropped and curled close to her ears. 

“Oh, right. Everyone”—the group of men and women now formed a semicircle around him, and Robert nodded politely—-“this is my brother-in-law, Robert Crawley. It’s his first time in Newport. So behave, won’t you?” 

Robert shook his head. He hadn’t been introduced to anyone by his Christian name in all his life.

“Welcome,” the woman in pearls said quietly. Robert had to strain to hear. “I’m Mrs Dupuis. The man just over there, the one speaking with the waiter, is my husband, Oscar. You’ll let us know if you need anything, alright?” 

“Yes, thank you,” he felt he had to shout over the din. 

“Brother-in-law?” Robert turned at the words. A man his own height was smiling at Harold, and then to him. “You’re Cora’s husband?”

Robert blinked at his wife’s name in the stranger’s mouth. “Pardon me—-“

The man’s brow was pinched in concentration, “Lord Donn—Oh, sorry. I can’t remember…”

“Grantham.” The man turned to Harold who had answered. 

“Grantham?” 

“Yeah. He was Downton when they married, Stu.” 

“Oh. That’s right,” the man smiled again when he looked back at Robert at last. “You aren’t what I imagined.”

Robert, in the middle of this over-crowded, exceedingly loud, and oddly bright room, blinked in confusion. “I—“

“You’re a lord?” The blonde woman’s high voice was too near his left ear, and Robert, surprised, stepped backward. 

“He’s an earl, Claudia,” the smiling man, the man who had said Cora with a familiarity that Robert couldn’t quite place, lifted a dark brow. “Is this really your first time here, Lord Grantham?”

Robert swallowed, uneasy. “Yes. That is, it’s my first visit to Newport,” he felt the need to clarify. “But, of course, not to America. My wife and I came over to New York in 1891, and again in 1895.”

“‘96,” Harold carelessly corrected. He’d somehow obtained cigars in the interim, and offered one to Robert. “But they didn’t bring my nieces,” he frowned melodramatically to the group around them. The women chorused a plaintive “aw.” 

“They were still quite young,” Robert needlessly explained, as the others now either spoke or laughed.

The blonde woman looked at Mrs Dupuis, and Robert could just make out the word “princesses” above the noise before he looked elsewhere. 

“Three daughters, yes?” 

Robert blinked. Again perplexed. “Forgive me,” he began as he narrowed his gaze at the smiling man. “And you are?”

“Stuart Hearst.” He stuck out his hand, shoving Harold aside who’d gotten closer for some reason, and Robert took it. “Surprised Cora’s never mentioned me.” 

Robert, still shaking his hand, frowned thoughtfully. “I’m not sure. Perhaps she has.” 

"And she hasn't come because...?"

How could Robert say he was only here to bail his wife's silly brother out of legal trouble? He couldn't. "And how do you know her?"

“The old Newport crowd. I remember the summer she went off to make her match.” Stuart lifted a corner of his mouth in a sort of smirk. “It didn’t take long. But then again, none of us thought it would. She was always a little more refined than the rest of us. But good at getting a laugh—”

“Stu had a crush on her.” 

Robert looked at Harold, who puffed away on his cigar. Robert hadn’t even lit his. 

“Now wait a minute, Harold—”

“Oh! Who has the crush? Is it you, Harry?”

Robert’s head was beginning to hurt, and though it was rude, he was grateful the other two men ignored the young blonde who had obviously had too much illicit liquor. 

“We all did."

“Well, not me, but I’m guessing you’ll say that doesn’t count,” Harold grimaced at his drink. “What is this?”

But Stuart had elbowed the man next to him, a portly fellow who hadn’t said two words, to garner support. “You remember Cora, don’t you, Louis?”

He blinked lazily. “Mm.” He hummed slowly. “I remember she was prettier than you, Harold.”

Harold tipped his head in mock contemplation. “Eh.”

Stuart, however, brought his eyes to Robert. “None of us were permitted to consider her, of course. So it wasn’t a surprise when she went over.”

“No.” Harold blew a ring of smoke. “She did well.” And then, he turned. “Say, where’s Oscar? I did need to speak with him.” 

And at last, Robert raised his voice over the clamor. “You say, you weren’t permitted?”

Harold, Stuart, and even Louis now, looked at him. Stared.

Robert swallowed down his irritation, and tried again. “How do you mean?” 

“Well, our mothers wouldn’t…it wasn’t,” Stuart began, glancing awkwardly at Harold, but then laughed. “But then it has been thirty or so years, hasn’t it? Can’t recall. And, uh, turned out alright for you, eh, Lord Grantham?”

He smiled again at Robert, again at Harold. And then, haltingly, Stuart took in a breath and turned away, calling, “Claudia? Come and tell me about that dress of yours.”

Robert stood quietly, staring after him, looking at the crowd of people who were laughing and chatting, and his chest began to ache. He looked over at Harold. 

Harold grinned up at him, wryly. “England’s not the only place with social classes, you know.” He nodded in the direction toward the man he wanted to see, Oscar, standing in a small crowd on the opposite side of the room. He stuck his cigar in his mouth and grumbled, “America’s got plenty of ‘em.”  

[autumnslance]

23: wearing someone's clothes.

(Have 770ish words, I made myself feel things when writing.)

She had to dump her entire pack to find the dress and its accessories. She had packed it near the bottom, wrapped in other clothes to keep it safe. Practically hidden, in case someone came snooping—but also from herself, in some ways, after giving in to the impulse to bring it along.

“Our mother bought this fabric,” her sister had said, as she struggled with the pattern. “She always meant to make it into the traditional dress for me, but…” her sister trailed off, leaving her younger self to nod.

It had not been practical, to grab the sewing bag and cloth among their few possessions as they fled. An impulse, her sister said. A memory of home and family and traditions, as they built a new life so far away. Sewing skills not up to the task, her sister finally admitted defeat, and found a local tailor willing to work with her to create the dress, the pants, the shoes. The blade-bracer their father had already fit to her sister’s arm.

She remembered helping her sister put the dress on, after thoroughly washing her hands and filing her nails, not wanting to snare or mar the fabric, admiring how it felt, how it looked, and how her sister looked wearing it. She remembered watching her sister, beaming and brilliant, flowing like fire through her forms, a deadly dance of their own, the fabric accentuating every move.

She held the bundled fabric to her face, willing herself not to cry, though the warning prickles stung at her eyes. Years of storage preservation had wiped out any lingering traces of her sister’s usual warm, spicy perfume, let alone her natural scent.

She didn’t remember what either smelled like anymore, anyway. Not really; it was just an impression.

“When I grow up, I want to wear it!” she had exclaimed once, watching her sister twirl for her amusement.

“Someday we’ll make you a dress of your own!” her sister had laughed in response, cupping her face and pressing a kiss to her forehead, making her fuss and squirm. She wasn’t a baby, after all!

She wished her sister were here now, to cup her face and kiss her forehead.

What she had was the dress. They had never made her one of her own. They never had the chance.

She shook out the clothes, wrinkling her nose at their state after storage and being folded in her pack for moons, and set to cleaning out the smell and steaming out the wrinkles. She had an appointment of her own making to keep, but she wouldn’t—couldn’t—simply wear her sister’s dress this first time without showing it the proper respect.

Their mother had chosen the fabric for its color and its resilience both. She was grateful for that as she finished her work, looking at it all hanging together. She hurriedly bathed herself next; travel grit and grime, salt and sand, blood and bile seemed to have accumulated even with all her other—oft hurried—washing up. But before she wore her sister’s dress for the first time, she had to be clean.

She remembered the near-ceremony her sister had induced in everyday bathing, when preparing to wear the dress for an important event. As she brushed out her hair and put it back in its tail, she remembered all the times her sister had done so for her, while talking about the styles and fashions of their people.

She put on the dress, pleased that it fit so well. She looked in the stained, cracked glass serving as her mirror, and sucked in a breath.

Everyone always said she looked so much like her sister; if they had been closer in age, they would have been mistaken for twins. Her vision swam and stung again, even as she smiled at herself, and in a way, it was like having her sister smiling back, finally seeing her in a woman’s traditional dress.

A dress worn for special occasions, made strong enough to last through time and rigorous use.

What occasion was more special than winning back one’s homeland?

She hugged herself tight, wrapped in her sister’s dress, made from cloth their mother had chosen and begun to shape, and wearing the blade-bracer their father had forged for her sister’s arm. She had left the mask behind, but still carried her family with her into this final battle that they were not here to see, yet were a part of. Because they were part of her.

Embraced by those memories, the woman in the red dress squared her shoulders and stepped outside to fight through the storm.