#you’re welcome for late night thought nuggets

[inkstainedhandswithrings]

I think Echo’s initial awkwardness with Omega hugs wasn’t so much “oh m G what do I do with my arms, like what even is a hug??”

like I fully believes he actually craves physical touch and affection but he just doesn’t really know how to ask for it because the clones weren’t raised that way and “I don’t wanna be an inconvenience to them or make it awkward and idk how I feel about being vulnerable”

so when omega hugs him he’s surprised because “wow she really just trusts me like that huh? damn do I even deserve that? like what did I do that she trusts me with all that (i.e. the above)?”

like I think he was just genuinely caught off guard by it all

@saturn-sends-hugs @phantom-of-the-501st

[cevansbrat0007]

The Curious Case of the Chicken McNuggets

Summary: You sneak out one night to satisfy a late night craving, with every intent to make it back before your overly tired husband wakes up. Also, check out Andy’s P.O.V. 

*Warnings: Implied Smut, Manhandling, Pregnant!Reader, Brat!Reader, Angry Andy, Light Spanking, Overstimulation (mentioned), Chicken Nuggets, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Part of my Growing Pains Series. Semi-proofread. Not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

---

You stare at the ceiling trying to talk yourself out of what you knew was pretty much inevitable. For a moment, you thought about waking your sleeping husband and asking him to go for you, but it was late. Just after midnight. And he’d been working such long hours lately that, truthfully, you just didn’t have the heart. 

But you desperately wanted chicken nuggets. Specifically a twenty-piece McNugget from McDonald’s. With honey mustard. All of the honey mustard. And some fries. 

You look over at Andy as your mental debate wages on. There was a 24-hour McDonald’s just down the street. And you were pretty sure that you could make it there and back without your husband ever noticing. That way he could sleep and you could eat. 

Decision made, you slip out of bed. Out of habit, your hand goes to rub your baby bump. At six months along, your belly was pretty darn big. But you loved it. You weren’t waddling or anything like that yet, but you knew those days were coming sooner rather than later. 

“Mmm.” You hear Andy stir. “Where you going, baby?” The sound of his raspy voice makes you smile.

“Bathroom, honey. And then to get some water. I’ll be right back. Go on back to sleep.” The first part isn’t a lie. You were going to the bathroom. Mostly because your baby girl loved sitting on your bladder like it was her own personal lawn chair. 

“Okay, see you in a min…” His deep voice trails off as he dozes off again. Good.

You take your time going to the bathroom, not that you were super fast these days anyway. By the time you’re done, your Andy Bear is totally fast asleep again. Time for some McNuggets.

Snagging your phone from the nightstand, you sneak downstairs to grab your keys and purse. And then you’re out the door. Those crispy, golden chicken chunks were almost within reach. Jumping in the car, you raise the garage door, put it in drive, and set out on your journey. There was no time to waste, damn it!

Ten minutes later, you make it your destination. You do a little dance in your car as you pull up to the drive-thru speaker. “Welcome to McDonald’s. Can I take your order?”

“Hi, yes! Can I please get a twenty piece Chicken McNugget? And can you be sure they’re fresh? Sorry to be a pain, but I’m kinda super pregnant….and I need this.” You wince a little, knowing you sounded needy. But your meal needed to be fresh for maximum enjoyment.

“Sure thing, ma’am. No problem. We’ll drop them fresh for you. Would you like to make it a meal?”

Ah, thank the Lord on high.

“Yes, please. With a Sprite. Thank you so much!” 

“And your sauce?”

“Honey mustard. I’m going to need at least four, please. It’s a thing.”

She gives you your total and then you pay. And then they have you park in a loading zone or something to wait while they cook your food. Fuck, you were so damned happy!

While it takes a little longer than you would have liked, eventually you have your food. You delicately place it in your passenger seat. You even briefly debate draping the seatbelt over it. No. That would be too much.

You race home. Becoming super excited the moment you pull back into the garage and kill the engine. Grabbing your bag of goodies and your drink, you exit your vehicle as fast as you can and head into the house. Jiminy Crickets, this had been a fantastic decision!

Food in hand, you head towards the kitchen, only to see that all of the lights are on. Wait. You hadn’t done that. You set your bag on the kitchen table as you try to muddle your way through your confusion. 

And then in strolls a shirtless, very pissed off Andy. 

“Um, hi honey!” You squeak. Just that fast you regret not getting him anything. “What are you doing up?”

“I don’t know.” He growls, his muscles flexing. “What were you doing out?”

Feeling mildly brave, mostly because your pregnancy cravings didn’t understand the concept of fear, you fish out your box of nuggets and pop one in your mouth. “I…I got hungry.”

Andy leans his big body against the counter, his hands going into his pockets of his maroon sleep pants. “See, I know I was half asleep at the time, but my hearing is pretty damn excellent. Did you or did you not tell me that you were going to the bathroom and then to grab a glass of water? Isn’t that what you said?”

Ahh crap. Your husband was going into attorney mode. 

“Would you like a nugget? I’ll share. Oh, and they’re fresh! Plus, I have honey mustard.” You try.

No dice. 

His nostrils flare as he glares at you. “Answer my goddamned question, baby.” Clearly he would not be swayed. Which sucked, because all you really wanted to do was eat your food and go back to bed.

 “Yes, that may have been what I said. And, in my defense, I did go to the bathroom. But see, I had been up for a good hour or so craving some McDonald’s and I didn’t want to wake you -”

“So you lie to me and sneak out of the house.” He interrupts. It seems like your man’s Boston accent gets thicker with every word. 

“I wanted to let you sleep.” You mumble as you gaze longingly at a packet of honey mustard. Throwing caution to the wind, you grab it and rip the foil so you can dunk another delicious nugget. “Are you sure you don’t want one, baby? Or some fries, maybe?” 

“Do you realize that I had no idea where you were, Y/N? I searched this whole house for you. And then I saw that your keys and purse were gone. And the whole time, I’m thinking to myself, where the fuck could my wife have gone at this hour?”

“Andy, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I really just wanted you to rest. And I was really hungry. Please don’t be mad.”

“Too goddamned late.” He hisses. When he starts to approach you, you pick up your food and begin to maneuver around the table. Why couldn’t your big man just let you eat in peace?   

“You get hungry at night? Then you wake me up and have me go get it, you stubborn little brat.” He snarls. 

“Hey! I wasn’t being a brat. I was trying to take care of you and myself and -”

“You know how I feel about your safety!” He yells. His booming voice echoes throughout the room. “You want something to eat this late, then you wake me the fuck up, little girl. What you do not do is sneak out of our house after midnight without letting me know where you’re going!”

Andy continues to circle around the table like a panther stalking his prey in his attempt to get to you. You felt like you were being fucking hunted, but it still didn’t stop you from popping another bite of chicken into your mouth. 

“Baby, if you weren’t six months pregnant, I would have you bent over my knee right now.” His voice is rough with emotion. “And I would blister your ass. Swear to God, you would not be able to sit. For a long fucking time.” 

You feel yourself pale at his words. 

“Andy, I said I was sorry. And I am. Next time, I’ll wake you and we’ll ride together. I promise. Please just let this pregnant woman enjoy her chicken nuggets before they get cold.”

You decide to take a risk and let him get close enough to grab you, which he does. And then you shove a nugget into his mouth. He gives you an evil look, but he proceeds to chew and swallow. You repeat the action, this time with fries. And then you hold out your Sprite to him.

“Wash it down?” You whisper. Which he does, his eyes never leaving yours. When he’s finished, you sit your drink onto the table. Your teeth go to nibble your lower lip. 

“I really am sorry, Andy. I won’t do it again.” 

“No, you won’t.” He takes you into his arms. And then he proceeds to deliver a series of very hard swats to your ass. “Ow! Ow! Ow!” You screech with each smack. It’s not like one of your usual spankings. You’re standing, your pants and underwear stay up, and he’s holding you…almost tenderly. 

Cupping your chin with his hand, Andy forces you to meet his eyes. His thumb brushes away a stray tear. “Do not do this again, young lady. Do you hear me?”

You whimper softly.

“I made a promise to you the night you told me you were pregnant, did I not?”

You nod.

“Whatever you want, you get. But what you do not do, not ever, is sneak out of this house in the middle of the night and leave me to wonder about where you are. I’m too young yet to be having heart palpitations. Are we clear?”

You nod again. His grip tightens on your jaw. “I need the words. More specifically, I need to hear a yes, Daddy.”

“Ye-yes, Daddy.” 

Andy smiles then, his hands going to caress your slightly bruised backside. Your husband had given you way worse spankings in the past, so you knew that you had truly gotten off light this time. And only because you were pregnant.

“Finish your food, Y/N, so I can take you back upstairs. And then you’re going to lay back and offer your sweet little body to me by way of apology. You owe me at least four orgasms for your misbehavior, and that is non negotiable. And let me be clear, I don’t care how long it takes, because apparently I need to teach you that no matter how tired I am, you always come first.”

His eyes glaze over as he continues. “You’re going to cum on my mouth, on my fingers, on my cock...baby I’m going to wreck you.”

You clear your throat, unsure of what to say.

“Now eat. You’re going to need your strength, honey.” He leans forward to kiss your nose. “Also, I’m taking the day off tomorrow. So if you don’t give me what I want tonight, I’ll make sure you give it to me tomorrow. And trust me when I say…” 

He grabs your ass again and squeezes.

“If that happens, I plan to add to the tally.”

END

[miscelunaaa]

flurious | ksj

pairing: seokjin x female reader

genre: college au ig. slice of life?? really I have no idea tbh

summary: it's fine, you're not mad at your best friend at all! in fact!! you're so fine that you're going to work off some steam just to prove how fine you are!!

rating: T for too much swearing

word count: 3k

warnings: Based On Real Events™️ (at least in part). Reader can’t ice skate. Lots of swearing. Reader is a stubborn piece of shit (affectionate). Himbecile Namjoon (derogatory). Unrequited crushes if you squint. Very cold winter environments. Small college vibes. Lots of talk about falling on one’s butt and bruises and common impact injuries associated with learning how to do coordinated things like ice skating for the first time; reader’s a tough nugget, she’s doing great. She might also have a slight pain kink oops. Vague prejudice against tenors I’m sorry. Crack if you squint. Angst if you squint. The only thing fluffy about this fic is Jin’s coat tbh, it’s intended to be more of a slice of life than anything else.

notes: Hi. It's missing Seokjin hours in the emothy household so have a short oneshot that I started months ago and randomly finished last night when I couldn't sleep. This really is actually based on a real experience I had, but that's all I'm going to say about the matter alksjhfalsjkdh

For once, I’m not feeling super long winded, so we’re going to leave it at that! Enjoy <3

my masterlist | my disclaimers | read on ao3

The student union is vacant when you walk into its warm, welcoming arms. It’s perfect. No one can judge you for what you’re about to attempt and that’s exactly what you want.

“I’d like to rent a pair of skates please,” you ask the student worker at the desk. 

She blearily looks up from a thick textbook and asks for your shoe size before standing to fetch them from the equipment closet. In return for the skates, you leave your student I.D. The entire exchange takes mere seconds. You haven’t even regained the warmth in your nose before you’re stepping back out into the cold night and stomping off to the shabby, makeshift ice rink on the quad. 

It’s a clear evening. The stars flicker coldly above, making the eerie yellow light of the campus’s many lamp posts seem warm in comparison. It’s a Saturday evening; no one’s wandering around the tiny college at this strangely late hour, not with a foot of snow pack on the ground, so there’s no one around to watch you angrily try to teach yourself to ice skate. 

Anger comes naturally to you. It’s easy, if not outright comfortable, for you to just sit and stew in the emotion. Yet still it’s all to your detriment, making you feel frazzled and out of control. Times like this call for full body distractions, and what’s better than teaching yourself something you’ve literally never done before?

Falling on your ass is the perfect distraction from your asshole best friend’s bullshit right now. It’s fucking perfect and nothing is stopping you from doing this, least of all him. After all, he’s the one who came back from winter break with a fancy new hair cut and now allll the girls are like “uwu Joonie you look so nice without the perm.” While he’s getting all that attention there’s nothing to stop you from sneaking away, because why on earth would he pay attention to you, his fucking best friend, when he could be paying attention to girls far cuter than you even if they’d thought he was gross when he had the perm? God he’s so fucking stupid. 

It doesn’t bother you at all. You don’t really see the difference anyway. He’s still a total freak even without the perm so you don’t really get the hype. It’ll take five minutes for the fawning to cease because in that time he’ll open his big dumb mouth and anyone with two brain cells to rub together will see how much of a dweeb he still is. Even so, the people continue to come in flocks and crowd you out. There’s alway someone new who wants to look at the newly pretty boy. 

Fuck ... being ignored like that (to your face!!) fucking hurts. Anger is always preferable to the sting of being ignored. The anger means that you’re at least trying to be productive, even as you hide yourself away from the world. The cold is as good a shield as any. 

You sit on the rickety edge of the rink and kick off your boots. Carefully, you pull on each skate and lace them up tight, making sure that your ankles have no room to roll. You find yourself swearing angrily as your gloved hands struggle with the laces, but your anger bolsters your persistence. Nothing can take you down from this high, not even the threat of absolutely biffing it like you know you’re going to.

It takes a moment to talk yourself into standing once you’ve set the blades to the ice. “Just stand to start” is what you tell yourself. After a few moments, and a flash or two of dimples in your mind’s eye, you get yourself to stand. 

With arms flailing, you stay upright for a good ten seconds. Your fatal flaw, however, is hubris. In your hubris you thought you could take a tentative step forward. 

As it turns out, ice can smell fear and has an impact play kink. 

You stare up at the sky for a moment after your first fall. Your ass hurts and will probably ache like a bitch tomorrow, but honestly you’re kind of a masochist; you’re not not into this. Why else would you be in this situation, so angry with your annoyingly cute freak of a best friend that you can hardly function? You knew he was handsome underneath the questionable aesthetic choices, and you knew he was dumb enough that he’d start ignoring you to talk to people he was more romantically interested in as soon as he fixed his appearance. You always knew this would happen, and yet you invested time in him anyway. You always rate last; experiencing this pain was only a matter of time. 

And yet, the seconds tick by. You steel yourself and carefully stand, avoiding a second slip, but only just. You narrow your eyes at your goal: the rink wall opposite of where you started. You’re going to fucking do this, falls be damned. It’s like ten yards. You can totally do this. You’re going to make this stupid ice your bitch.

Eight seconds later, you’re on your ass again. But hey, you made it a few feet forward. Progress is still progress in spite of accrued costs.

And so you stand again. You try doing that pushing thing with the blade of the skate, but something in your body doesn’t expect to move, so you wobble unsteadily for a moment. A breath, and then another push, more gently this time. Ah, you’re doing it! Yet another push and—

Well ... At least the stars make good company. Your elbow hurts this time; you must’ve whacked it in the fall. Feels like it’ll bruise but that’s just the cost of doing business with this rink and your own stupidity. You carefully scramble up, and try again. 

When you finally make it to the other side of the rink, you’re so excited that you trip into the little wall. At least you can catch yourself with your hands this way. And hey, moving to a sitting position isn’t so hard! The cold soothes your achey butt as you let yourself relax for a moment. 

Maybe this was a stupid idea. You can feel the high of white hot rage beginning to cool. You’re not sure if it’s the pain or the exertion. Maybe it’s time to pack up and return the skates. It’s getting late after all, you probably need to at least try to sleep. 

You’re so mired in your thoughts that you almost miss the backlit figure appear, exiting the student union. Whoever it is is wearing a big puffy coat, and they have something odd looking in their hands. After a moment you realize, heat crawling up your neck, that the item in their hands is a pair of skates, and they’re walking across the quad to the rink.

You stand quickly, albeit unsteadily, as if to show that the rink is occupied, but alas, they seem undeterred. Shit. The only thing that could make this worse is if you were to suddenly loose your balance.

Lo and behold, fate has a sense of humor, and you do just that before you can think to do anything else.

You grimace as you sit up. You weren’t expecting an audience for this. As the figure approaches, you see that it’s one of the guys who works the student union’s cafe some evenings. He’s always seemed nice enough and ugh, he’s cute too. He’s got these broad shoulders that your friends love to stare at while they wait for their drinks to be made. Definitely not the audience you’d prefer if you must have one. As you scramble back upright, he sits at the edge of the rink and starts to unlace his boots. 

“Hello,” he says quietly, glancing up as he pulls on a skate. His voice is low, with a rich timbre you didn’t expect. He sounds like he might be a tenor. You hate tenors. You hate musicians. Namjoon’s a musician too, the bastard.

“Hi,” you reply flatly, trying not to grit your teeth in frustration. You don’t even look at him when he looks at you; you don’t need his approval, and looking at him will just make you shy. You don’t have time for that shit, damn it. With care, you try to push forward again, before stopping, arms flailing. You only just manage to preserve your balance and straighten up so you can try again.

The intruder watches you warily as he starts to pull on his rented skates. You can feel the press of his curiosity on the back of your neck and you don’t know how to politely ask for him to simply not.

You’re pretty sure you see him flinch when your skates suddenly, but inevitably, slip out from beneath you, leaving you sprawled out on your ass, the ice beneath cold yet soothing for your bruised buttocks. And yet, he says nothing as he pushes off from the side of the rink, gracefully no less. He says nothing as you pull yourself up again, only to fall again as well, just as you were finding your balance. You take a deep breath, fog slowly coming from your lips as you let it out. Once you’re to your feet again, and without falling this time, you can’t help but let yourself smile, just a little, just to yourself. 

Giving up whomst? You could never. 

For a moment, you just stand on the ice, breathing and letting yourself feel the skates wrapped around your feet and ankles. Just a small push now. Can’t let this rando see you sweat now, can you?

The stranger watches, his handsome face blank but for curious eyes, as you make it a whole fifteen seconds before slipping and falling again, this time onto a knee and your hands. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him grimace as you look at your hands and dust them of with a huffed little “fuck.”

He’s literally skating circles around you. It’s fucking obnoxious, but damn it, you want to be able to skate like that too. So you stand up again, and vicious cycle begins anew.

“You okay?” the stranger suddenly asks. It startles you, the wobble almost sending you to the ice with a crack yet again. 

“I’m fine.” Your tone is clipped with frustration. You sure as shit don’t sound fine.

He drifts across your field of vision, going fucking backwards on his skates. It’s like it’s nothing! Fucking show off. What a fucking d—

Alright. That fall kind of hurt for real. Your poor elbows. They might be having a worse time than your knees. Did you just knock the wind out of yourself with that one?

His words come from a little closer this time. “Are you sure you’re—“

“—I’m fucking fine.”

You didn’t mean to snap. You really didn’t. Everything was fine until this dude just joined you out here out of the blue with his stupid face and his stupid talent and—

“You’re really scrappy, you know that right?”

You glare at him as you push yourself back to your feet. His plush mouth splits into a heart-rending smile. Fuck, he’s cute. Bitch, do not do this to yourself.

He keeps talking as you struggle aright. “I mean it. I’ve never watched someone keep falling like that just to get up and try again.”

You’re not even sure what to say to that. You’re glad you’ve got the built in focus of trying to do something out of your comfort zone and skill set, so an immediate reply isn’t expected. But you do have to say something in reply eventually. The comment was just ... kind of unexpected. And honestly, you think he meant it well, and it’s hard not to let the pride push a smile to your face. You fight it, of course, because you’re supposed to be angry, not pleased.

“I’m too stubborn for my own good,” you finally grit out. “But thank you.” Ah, that was good. Keep that shit up, and maybe he won’t think you’re a total freak by the time one or the other of you leaves. 

“There are worse things to be.” His smile is warm enough to melt the ice beneath the blades of your skates. Cold? What cold? You feel nothing but blistering heat creeping up your neck. You’re not used to this kind of attention from anyone, if you’re being honest, let alone cute barista boys in puffy coats. “Tenacity isn’t a bad thing.”

“The bruises on my ass say otherwise.”

When he laughs, it’s low in his chest, velvety like the milk he steams for the cute folks that come to him for lattes and London fogs. You’d be swept away by his charms completely as well if you weren’t too busy being swept off your feet by your own stupidity. 

You hardly feel the thump when you hit the hard surface of the ice this time. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re cold or if it’s just you’re used to falling now. The numbness of either is the same after a certain point; that’s the point of numbness, after all.

For a moment, you stare at the sky. It gives you a moment to catch your breath. Watching the stars twinkle and flicker as if they’re laughing at something reminds you that, right, you’re not alone out here on the ice. You hope the stars aren’t laughing at your shitty attempts to flirt with this stranger. 

When you pull yourself up to sit, you see that the cute stranger is carefully skating backwards, his head turned and tilted so he can see where he’s going. Good lord, he’s handsome, even like this. In the grimy street lamp light, you can see that his face has been kissed by the cold, but it doesn’t do much to make him look less attractive. The focus on his face makes it almost look suggestive as he bites down on his plush lip. For a moment, you allow yourself to watch, thankful that he’s not looking at you.

When he glances at you, still sitting on the ice with your legs spread haphazardly, your eyes meet his. He smiles at you. Suddenly, the air leaves your lungs as if you’ve fallen again, the wind knocked from them like you’ve taken a blow. And then as soon as it happens, it stops, for one moment he was smiling at you, and the next he was sprawled on the ice with a thud and the smallest, cutest “fuck” you’ve ever heard in your life.

The look of surprise on his face is so aghast that you can’t help but laugh. 

“I’m so—“ wheeze “—s-sorry, I shouldn’t—“ fuck, that’s hilarious “—laugh b-but the look on your f-face!” 

The shock fades, only to be replaced by a pout that cracks at the edges as he tries not to laugh with you. 

You start to push yourself forward him, half crawling, half crab-walking. Soon the pout breaks into a smile as you sit beside him and poke his cheek with a gloved finger. Where on earth did that fucking come from?? You’re poking strangers now?? 

“How does it feel to be a mere mortal?” you ask. Maybe the question will distract from the ... random face poking? Maybe the cold really is getting to you. 

“Never said I was good at skating,” he says, still smiling at you. “Though I can’t say I feel like getting up and trying again after that.”

You scoff. “You’re giving up too easily. What’s the opposite of tenacious?” 

“Cold.”

“That’s fair. I’m not even sure if I can feel my ass at this point.”

He laughs, and the deep sound seems to rumble in his chest, just like it had when you’d first heard it. But then he does the unexpected, and holds out a hand to you. “I’m Seokjin, by the way.”

You shake his hand and introduce yourself in kind. “You work at the cafe right?”

“Yeah. It gets hot back there, I like doing something in the cold after a shift if I can.”

You nod. “I get it. I’m out here because a friend pissed me off and I needed to work through it.”

“Can’t kick their ass so you’re letting the ice kick your ass instead?”

Not even the heat of embarrassment can heat up your cold cheeks at this point. He’s read you like a book. You’re poking strangers, and he’s reading you like he probably reads his homework. 

“Alright, it’s getting really fucking cold out here,” Seokjin suddenly says. He pulls himself towards the nearest sideboard and sits on top of it. “I’m calling it a night.”

You don’t expect his expectant look. “What?”

“You’ve been out here longer than me. Can you even feel your fingers at this point?”

“Um.” There’s some small part of you that doesn’t want this to end, but lying about it feels futile when you know he’s going to see right through it. “No.”

“I think it might be a good idea for you to head in too ...” he says, and then: “I could sneak back into the cafe for some hot water. Want to have some tea to warm up? Maybe you could talk about this friend who pissed you off.”

It’s late, if you’re being honest. You should probably go home and lick your wounds. But as you pull yourself up onto the sideboard with Seokjin, you decide that staying out might be worth it. Staying out in the first place is what got you on the ice. Staying out kept you here, which in turn meant you got to meet Seokjin. Staying out meant you got to talk and have this moment. It’s a relief to just be able to talk, rather than fight for someone’s attention.

What’s another few minutes?

“Sure, I’d like that.”

Thank you for reading! Drop me an ask and tell me what you think. Find me in various places at my carrd :)

©miscelunaaa 2022. My work is only found on this blog and under my ao3 pseud. Do not, under any circumstances, copy or repost my work. Thank you.

posted: 12.6.2022

[thunderheadfred]

🦅Hawks HC’s🦅

This is SO unnecessarily long. Some NSFW. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

General

Has zero social life or hobbies outside of work. He knows it’s unhealthy, but like, who has the time?? Oh? Lots of people do?? Haha what are healthy work/home boundaries? He desperately wants to retire and always talks about a world without heroes, but the truth is he would have no idea what to do with himself if he got his way. Take him to a park at midnight and watch him turn into a giant repressed child on a swing. He’ll do a standing-360 and it will be terrifying.

Listens to music way too loud in his headphones to drown out wind noise. Probably half deaf at this point. His musical taste is wild; listening history all over the fucking place. Algorithms have no idea what to do with him.

That visor? It’s prescription. Wow is he far-sighted. He wears glasses. He’s not blind without them (rather the opposite) but they help him see things directly in front of him without massive eye strain. Yeah, he looks really hot in glasses.

Prefers communicating via text. Sometimes it’s a lot of dumb memes, but mostly it’s sincere. He can say what he means when he doesn’t have to put on a public front.

Smokes like a chimney. Self medicates with stimulants. Coffee, tobacco, sugar. Fidgety, likes things in his mouth or hands. Gnashes on toothpicks and popsicle sticks. He really should go back to therapy, huh? His teeth are sparkling white for the cameras but his breath could use some work. Chews gum a lot to compensate, and always does it really loudly with a big shit-eating grin.

Impatient as fuuuuuck. Rude about it. If you take too long doing anything, you’re going to hear a foot tapping. He’ll smile and laugh it off, never ever directly criticize you about it. But lord, the dramatic sighs. He WILL nudge you out of the way and take over in order to finish a task faster, and it’s truly fucking annoying.

LOVES food. Has the metabolism of an actual bird. Will seize upon any excuse to eat. No need to be self-conscious about eating in front of him; he wants you to enjoy it. Steals bites from you and talks with his mouth full. Prefers street food and take-out, usually eats while walking or flying. Sit-down restaurants are an invitation for gawkers.

He’s one of those celebrities that looks way taller on TV. In real life, he’s small and compact. So you’re surprised the first time you see him in person. He has a big head. Literally.

If you’re taller or bigger than him, he does Not Care. He treats everyone like they’re four feet tall, even Endeavor. Everything you do is cute. If you’re actually short, he’s going to carry you around all the time, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Collects big chunky overpriced watches. All the better to tell you you’re late.

Half his clothes are brand fucking new. Sometimes he forgets to take off the tags. (Don’t look at the prices, do NOT) He never seems to wear the same thing twice. He also never seems to go shopping. Brands just give him stuff, and he shrugs and goes “yeah okay.”

The other half of his clothes are old, faded, and patched up. Every item he acquires for himself has deep sentimental value. If you tell him to throw away that nasty ten-year-old pair of frayed cargo pants, be prepared to find out how wrong and evil you are for even suggesting it.

He doesn’t snore; he coos. Loudly. Like a fucking pigeon trapped in a megaphone.

- - - - -

Dating

Gift-giving is his love language. Bringing your favorite snacks. Leaving novelty magnets on your fridge. He found a copy of that book/game/movie you mentioned like a month ago, don’t you remember? If he has to go out of town on a job, he’ll bring back the ugliest possible souvenir, just to annoy you.

He likes gifting jewelry especially. Covering you in shiny baubles, little golden things. Not expensive, but unusual. Antiques or handmade, even bizarre vending machine crap. Gets really handsy if you wear or show off his gifts.

Since you’re the first person who has given him The Feels, if you are resistant to his advances (like, say, because he’s way too famous and you’re terrified he’s gonna break your heart) he’s going to go fucking nuts trying to woo you. Doesn’t have a single patient bone in his body but will wait as long as it takes for you to come around. He’ll act like he’s cool with just being friends at first, just hanging out, haha. Oh you’re busy today? That’s cool. Inside he’s shrieking like a tea kettle. Go ahead, make him wait.

Don’t bother giving him a key to your place. He’s coming in through the bedroom window or patio door. Just put out a damn welcome mat on your balcony... or a bird feeder.

A bit of a voyeur. He likes to watch you do your normal routine without interruption. He can see from miles away so if you’ve got your lights on at night, he’ll creep for a while before he comes in. It comforts him immensely, seeing a little slice of the world that isn’t constantly in need of saving.

Is super talkative and funny but a terrible communicator. Makes more jokes the worse he feels. Will almost never tell you what he needs. Most of the time, he doesn’t even know. You will learn to read between the lines and gradually notice his tiny unconscious cries for help. Back rubs make him emotional.

He shows up at your place at the weirdest times. All hours. You’re never ready. At first it was infuriating, because you wanted to look your best and have time to prepare, but you figure out pretty quickly that seeing you in your natural state is his favorite thing. He never gets to be around normal people, doing normal things. A boring, lazy afternoon is his idea of paradise.

He’ll pick through your things and ask a world of invasive questions. A medicine cabinet raider. He wants to know every fucking tiny thing about you, live vicariously through you.

He actually lives in a top floor penthouse. Because I mean, where else? Never spends any time there; mostly he seems to roost on the balcony. He has used the front door maybe once. He much prefers your place, and will only take you back to his after months of dating. It’ll take like, an entire emergency. You’ll end up in his bed by mistake.

Because when you finally come over, he’s embarrassed. Its sparse. White. Things in boxes. A new furniture smell. Like he’s not done moving in, though he’s lived there for years. He wants you to move in So Bad but doesn’t want to be pushy. If you don’t start leaving your stuff there, he’ll steal things from your apartment. Where the hell is your favorite t-shirt? Or that pillowcase you like? Dammit Keigo.

He’s a decent cook, a habit he made himself pick up because he thought it might make him feel more normal. It... didn’t. He never actually cooks until you give him an excuse. He’ll bring you breakfast in bed and watch you eat every bite with big hungry eyes.

He’s got a separate wardrobe for his hero costume and all his feathers. Yeah. His feathers. Because he can detach and control his feathers at will, when he’s alone at home he kind of just... shucks off his wings. The first time you see him do it, your eyes fall out of your head. He walks around in a tee shirt and boxers with these ugly little stumps covered in brownish, blood-red down. It actually looks kind of gnarly, like he got mauled by a bear.

He’s never dated until you. No one has ever been in his apartment until you. No one has called him Keigo until you. He has some bigass intimacy issues. Because. Y’know. The trauma. But god, he wants you in his life so bad, even if he has no idea how to make time for your relationship.

He’ll want to keep you to himself for a while. Once you go public he’s going to have an arm around your shoulders at all times. Publicly Displays his Affection way more than is socially acceptable in Japan, and gives precisely -100,000 fucks.

His fans either love you or hate you. There is no in between. He will immediately take your phone and threaten to drop it from a great height if he catches you reading shitty gossip about the two of you. Does NOT care about his public image anymore, doesn’t want YOU to care about it either. He’s gonna retire soon anyway, remember? That’s a lie.

Being a charming motherfucker is the core of his public persona, so you will get jealous. A lot. He will flirt shamelessly without realizing it. He will get photographed in compromising positions with gorgeous people.

Once you accept that he’s basically an actor 80% of the time and that Hawks and Keigo are separate identities, you’ll both feel better. When he comes home (to YOU) and falls over exhausted and stops being Hawks(tm), when he scratches his ass or burps in front of you, when he yells to you from the bathroom, when he groans childishly about his shitty day while laying face-down in your lap, you’ll know you have nothing to worry about. Keigo is all yours.

Boundaries? Never heard of ‘em. He’s either a million lightyears away or he’s glued to your hip. The whiplash is astounding.

Absolutely says “I love you” wayyyyyy to soon. It thrills you but scares you off at the same time, because there’s no way Hawks - The Hawks - can actually mean it, right? (He does)

Rings? Nah. When things get serious, he will make a necklace out of a feather for you, and if you ever take it off, you better be asleep or in the shower. Even then you’re on thin fuckin ice. If you’re not wearing it he knows. He’s never mean about making you put it back on, it just makes him nervous if he can’t feel your heartbeat.

- - - - -

SPICY CHICKEN NUGGETS

High sex drive. Horny like 25/7. Probably a symptom of having way too much pent up stress.

Often takes care of it himself when he doesn’t have the emotional resources for anyone else, even his S.O. Figures you don’t want him coming on to you as often as he would like to, but he’s too stupid to talk to you about it first. Morning masturbator.

Yes he’s fucked around a lot but he’s not exactly a playboy either. People have always thrown themselves at him, and before he met you he let them do it. Especially when out of town and staying in a hotel. Whatever happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, etc.

He’d never be unfaithful to you though; his loyalty and dedication are frankly a little unsettling. Sometimes you feel like the only thing in his life other than hero work. Teach this man to knit. Make him join a book club. Christ. Anything.

Does in fact have seasonal mating patterns and it’s super embarrassing.

An underwear-sniffing perv. He’ll definitely hump your pillow.

Gets a sick thrill out of breaking in and startling you. Coming up behind you in the dark, sneaking into your bed. It’s probably his worst habit, and even he hates that he does it. If you get better at detecting him he’ll be so proud. Land a slap on him and he’ll be a horny mess.

Dog-whistles at you. Often from rooftops, and you have no idea where he is but you know he’s leering.

He will call you a lot of really stupid pet names. He likes the way you blush when he finds a newer, stupider one. Calls you angel when he’s really far gone.

Likes to scratch you with his stubble until your skin turns raw and sensitive. If it annoys you or hurts a little? Even better. Making you squirm is his new favorite thing. Especially when going down on you. Your inner thighs are always exfoliated.

His cock is average in every respect. This is not a bad thing. He knows how to please you with every totally normal inch of that cock. He has some kind of homing beacon installed on your sensitive spots.

Goes absolutely insane for blowjobs. Any time, any place.

Likes to bend you around in all kinds of positions with an assist from his feathers to hold up an ankle here, an arm there. Get used to floating mid-coitus. It just seems to happen.

Spanky.

His number one priority is making you feel adored and at home in his bed. Ohhhhh he likes to make you smile. But if you encourage him to get pushy and dominant with you, you will have a good, good time.

He’s switchy, and will lose his shit if you initiate or take control. Again, he’s always horny for you, because he can finally let go. Breathe in his direction and he’s hard.

Doesn’t moan much, but Babe, he’s a dirty talker. He’s not smooth or deliberate about it, it’s more like he can’t fucking believe you let him do whatever he wants to you. You like that huh? Like he’s in stages of shock. He’s singing your praises to high Heaven and muttering oh shit oh shit oh shittttttt and laugh-crying as he cums. He never talks about his feelings; he fucks about them.

After. Care. King. He loves pampering and clucking over you anyway, this is simply another excuse to do it. He knows exactly how much water you drink in a day. Can’t take care of himself for shit, but you? You’ll never have a need he won’t try to fill. What’s all that hero work for if not this? Yeah, soak it up. You deserve it.

[elysianslove]

heyy sal ^-^ i know this seems a lil sudden but do u mind givin some comfort hcs or somethin with tsumu n an s/o wif overbearing family who's been feelin really shitty and unmotivated lately?? am sorry if this is a lil much but i have been feeling . Not good as of late ... and i really miss tsumu idk :( maybe a lil bit of hurt/comfort and cuddles and a night out 2 mcdonalds or something would be nice if ur up to it <3 ur writin is so amazing ilysm !!

hi lovely!! found it hehe,,, here’s your comfort fic! i hope you like it! mwah <3 

miya atsumu is a great texter. 

not just in the sense that his ability to hold conversations is immaculate, and not just because your messages between him are overflowing with extravagant voice notes and an endless amount of objectively unattractive up close photos of his face. it’s because he always, always, without a shadow of doubt, no matter the hour, day, week, month, replies within the second. you’d jokingly accused him of being addicted to his phone, until you realized, aside his brother, you were the only exception — that’s also because he has some ridiculous ringtone for your calls and messages, but you pretend to be oblivious of that fact. 

as you grip your phone with shaky hands and stare at your screen through bleary eyes, you watch as your message gets delivered, then read almost immediately after. 

can i please be with you right now? 

a grey bubble appears, hovering at the bottom of your screen, three dots rolling evenly within it. it then disappears, and in its place a message materializes. 

of course. should i pass by or leave my window open? 

already, your chest feels lighter. 

fifteen minutes later, he’s before you, donning a simple shirt and sweatpants, sneakers on his feet. his smile is bright when his eyes meet yours, and his arms are home when they come to wrap around you, pulling you in close, embracing you tightly. your own arms easily slip around his waist, the feel of him beneath the thin shirt grounding and steadying. you release a shaky breath just as he squeezes you reassuringly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. 

“heya, gorgeous,” he softly greets you, leaning back slightly to take a look at you. hesitantly, slowly, your head lifts off of his chest, arms still wrapped around him. his smile visibly falters at the sight of you, it saddens and softens, but it doesn’t disappear. although a little forcefully, he urges his smile to widen, and brings a hand up to the string of your hoodie, tugging and teasing, “nice hoodie.” 

against all odds, you scoff amusingly, rolling your eyes. “yeah, you’d think so,” you retort, and he laughs lightly. 

gently, he twists you around to pull you to his side, an arm tossed around and over your shoulder. “so, what’re we thinkin’?” he wonders aloud. “convenience store ramen?” atsumu tilts his head towards you, and when your nose scrunches in disapproval, his does too in mimicry, and then he shakes his head. “convenience store ice cream?” he says it as if it’s a genius idea, a victorious grin on his face, until he’s met with another disapproving look. 

“m’not really hungry, ‘tsumu,” you begin to argue, despite knowing how fruitless the attempt is. 

“tha’s not what i’m askin’.” he feigns offense as he says this, before he tilts his head back, thoughtfully humming. you watch him in both slight amusement and endearment. he’s really cute, you think, with the slight pout to his lips and the messiness of his hair. it’s obvious that he’d just rolled out of bed after having taken a shower, if not for his hair then for the comforting smell you sense. he’s sturdy by your side, body easy and relaxed against you, leaning into your touch just as much as you lean into him. he hums again, speaking to himself in hushed tones, and you think again, he’s really, really cute. 

“you’re really cute, ‘tsumu,” you voice, and atsumu stops his deep and thoughtful monologue about the importance of a decision like choosing where to eat at eleven pm. when he turns to face you, you offer him an easy smile, before urging him arm tighter around you again, and continuing your walk. 

“ya think i’m cute?”

“well, i am dating—“

his arm falls from around you to his side, and he halts in his steps.

“cute?!” 

you pause, turning to the side to fix him with a humored, confused stare. he’s wearing a shocked expression, eyes wide and mouth slightly parting. it makes you want to giggle. “is that a bad thing?” you wonder.

with a whine, atsumu deflates, his arms tossed to his side, hands slapping his thighs as if he were a toddler throwing a tantrum. “yer cute,” he begins to argue. “yer cute ‘n pretty n’ gorgeous ‘n very hot.” 

you quirk an eyebrow. “thanks?” 

“but i’m handsome, babe. devilishly han’some if you will. sexy. charming. hot—“

“thought i was hot?” 

“m’not taking you to mcdonald’s anymore.” 

you gasp, reaching out for his forearms and gripping them tightly. atsumu runs warm, always has and possibly always will, that it’s always a welcome feeling touching him. unless you were in the middle of summer beneath a thousand blankets, but that’s not your current concern. “how did you know i was craving nuggets?” you wonder, exasperated and in awe. 

he lifts up a finger and tilts his chin back, as if prepared to make a very important note. “not only am i devilishly handsome—“

“‘tsumu.”

“you’re always craving nuggets, doll.” 

a fair argument, you guess. 

“— and i’m psychic.” 

you smack his arm. 

“finger. guns, babe. finger guns!” 

you lift your hand up in motion of a gun, but instead, you flip your boyfriend off, sipping slowly through the staple yellow and white straw. condensation from the cup in your grip drips to your knuckles, slowly trailing down your hand. 

your gesture is met with a deadpan expression before atsumu twists around away from you. he’s facing a bench in the middle of an empty public park, his phone propped up against the back of the bench and opened up on the camera app. in the small lower left corner of the screen is a small preview of a picture you’d just taken together: it’s cheesy and honestly a little cringe, with atsumu doing a ridiculous pose with finger guns, and a you with a hesitant peace sign. it’s what led you to this moment— he just really wants you to do some finger guns with him. 

facing the phone, atsumu bends down and clicks on his screen, while you take another long sip. upon buying a ridiculous amount of fries, nuggets, and two burgers, the two of you had walked for a few moments, not so quietly because atsumu has the long lived habit of never knowing when to quite stop talking, until you’d reached the park. beneath a dying tree, the two of you sat and ate, watched the stars through the branches of the aged tree while atsumu explained you the ridiculous justification behind punching his brother earlier in the day during practice. after a while, he’d gotten the great idea of taking pictures together, despite the terrible lighting, obscure setting, and not the most fitting choice of outfits. 

you’re slightly lost in thought, and honestly atsumu is a little too fast for his own good, that you don’t notice him barreling towards you until he’s right before you. you’re too late, and suddenly he’s kneeling, arms wrapping around your thighs, lifting you up high. he leaves you with no choice but to quickly wrap your arms around his neck, leaning in close until your cheek is pressed to his. he holds you tight to him and you barely see the flash turn off before you’re lifting yourself up again, staring down at him with a fake scowl. 

“why would you do that?” you scold him, pinching at his arm as he drops you to your feet again. 

he mumbles a small ouch at your pinch, rubbing at his sore arm as he defends himself, “well ya weren’t doing the finger guns!”

“finger guns are stupid.”

“yer face is stupid.”

“your face is stupid.”

“like hell it is.” rather stupidly, atsumu spreads his arms wide, showcasing himself. “i’ve got so much to offer.” to humble him, you reach out, hand splaying on his stomach and fingers wiggling. he’s quick to react, curling in on himself slightly and grasping your wrist tightly, fixing you with a warning, cold stare. “do not.” 

you giggle wickedly, and wiggle your fingers again. atsumu shrieks, holding your wrist away from his stomach. 

it’s a good thing you’ve got two hands. 

it’s nearly two in the morning when he first yawns. unintentionally, guilt starts to creep up your spine, settling heavy on your shoulders and chest. atsumu notices, as he always does, but instead of mentioning it, he shuffles down on the bench, and leans slightly towards you until his head rests on your shoulder. with the feel of him against you once more, you will yourself to relax, and reach for the hand closest to you, intertwining your fingers with his.  

“yer so fun,” he mumbles, and you feel the vibrations from his voice. as he sighs contently, you finally do properly relax, and shuffle low until your head rests above his. 

“you are too,” you respond. “only when you’re not doing finger guns.” 

he scoffs. “ya love me ‘n my finger guns.” he lifts up a hand, and clicks his tongue as he motions a gun. jokingly, you slap at his hand, pushing it away. 

the wind whistles softly, calmly, and atsumu’s hair tickles your cheek. 

“i don’t wanna go home,” you admit with a small voice, smaller than you’d wish. 

atsumu presses himself closer to you, thumb tracing at the back of your hand. “we can jus’ stay here,” he offers. “sunrises are pretty.” 

you hum thoughtlessly. 

“we can watch it from my room too, if ya’d like.” 

your heart stills, and you swallow thickly. “you sure?” 

he nods. “you’ll always have a home with me.” it’s not an offer, but a fact. 

twisting your head, you place a kiss to the top of his head, the familiar scent of his shampoo overwhelming your senses for a moment. “i do love you and your finger guns,” you whisper against his hair, reveling in the loud laugh that leaves his lips as you twist your head back to rest it against his again. 

quietly, sincerely, you laugh with him. 

[scapegrace74-blog]

New Ways of Turning into Stone, Chapter 4

A/N  Some strong reactions to the last chapter, which I admit caught me by surprise.   Writing is a funny craft, where you spend a lot of time and effort trying to show your reader exactly the picture you have in your mind, but then also have to surrender to each reader’s interpretation of what you wrote.  That said, some interpretations miss the mark entirely, and for that reason this chapter is entitled “False Assumptions”.   Trigger warning for childhood disease.

Jamie’s weekly appointments continued through the grey slumber of late April and into the wakening month of May.  Thursday became Claire’s favourite day of the week, for reasons she didn’t care to scrutinize too closely.

With regularity came a certain brand of predictability.  Their appointments took one of two forms, she realized.  Some days Jamie was full of life, witty and exasperating by turns.  He would spin long yarns about some trivial aspect of his life, fascinating tales that turned out to be nothing more than surface reflections, revealing little of the murky depths beneath.  He was also adept at using his considerable verbal charm to draw her into divulging more about herself than she ought.  Those visits left her equally frustrated and challenged.

The rest of the time her patient arrived with a weary slump, the thousand watt bulb of his personality dimmed to an occasional flicker.  Given his offhand comment about whisky and women, she tried not to ponder if he was hungover or suffering from the effects of an all-night hook-up.  From a diagnostic point of view these days of low ebb were beneficial because Jamie was far more likely to offer some nugget of inner revelation, truth sneaking out through the cracks of his weakened defences.

“I was away on business, in Hong Kong, when my Da passed,” he said on one such afternoon, the skin below his eyes drawn tight and the copper in his hair somehow muted.

“Did it happen suddenly?” 

“No’ really.  Jen had been at me fer months tae come hame, sayin’ that Da was workin’ himself tae death.”   Jamie looked out the window, eyes reflecting the overcast skies beyond.  “I ignored her.  Too wrapped up in my own grand self tae pay any heed.  Twas Ian, my brother-in-law, who called tae say Da had dropped in the pasture.  Massive coronary.  I caught the first flight back, but he was gone before I landed.”

She watched Jamie’s face closely as he spoke, but beyond the understandable emotion of reliving the sudden loss of a parent, he remained inscrutable.  The urge to draw him out overcame the deference she paid to Jamie’s well-defined boundaries.

“Do you think you’re to blame for his death?” she asked, half-expecting to be met with silence or a nimble deflection.

Jamie shook his head ruefully.

“Nah.  I dinna think I’m tae blame.  I ken it.  I was the only surviving son, ye see?  In the Highlands, tradition is everything, an’ a Fraser man had worked those lands fer generations.  I was only meant tae complete my studies abroad, an’ then return tae Lallybroch and take o’er from Da.  Instead, I left my sister an’ Ian tae watch o’er the farm while I played the business tycoon.”

“Is Lallybroch still in your family?” she wondered aloud, the name rolling about in her mouth like marbles.  

“Jenny and Ian couldna keep it.  I wasna well enough tae object, an’ they sold tae a developer.  It’s some kind of corporate wellness retreat now,” he finished with a distasteful grimace.

For every disclosure Jamie made, two more questions arose in its wake, like hacking away at a many-headed Hydra.  She wished she could delve further, but the chime from her computer announced the end of the session.

“Will I see you next week, Jamie?” she asked as he reluctantly rose to leave.

“Aye,” said with a sad smile.  “I’ll be here.”

***

The following Tuesday, Claire took the afternoon off work to perform an errand she’d long been avoiding.

Her departure from the Royal Hospital for Children had been so precipitous, she hadn’t filed the necessary paperwork to close her employment file.  The Human Resources department had been pestering her to complete the process for months.  The threat of holding up the transfer of her accreditation finally forced her hand.

To her great relief, the personnel offices were nowhere near the actual wards.  They lay at the end of a long white hallway broken by large windows looking into a series of meeting and activity rooms.  Her plan was to get in, sign the damn forms, and leave without running into any former colleagues or patients.   

The sun slanting into one of these sparsely furnished rooms glanced off the top of a bent head, causing it to glow like a freshly minted penny.  She stopped and stared, trying to reconcile the image of James Fraser seated in a too-small plastic chair, surrounded by a group of hospital-gowned children.

He must have caught sight of her while she stood gaping.  Running to the door before she could find the motor function to turn around, he called out joyfully from behind a blue hospital mask.

“Doctor Beauchamp!  Fancy meeting ye here.”

She mumbled something incoherent, damning herself for the blush she felt enveloping her cheeks.   Behind Jamie, a row of dewy eyes watched on.   She recognized the paper-thin skin and missing hair of chemotherapy patients, and a salty knot rose in her throat.

“Can ye spare a few minutes? Ye’re jes the pair of steady hands we need.”

She longed to decline, to disappear, to come up with a plausible excuse why she couldn’t enter that room.  Her heart thumped angrily in her chest, warning of its fragile state.

Seeing her conflict, Jamie extended a welcoming hand.

“Come, Sassenach.  The lassies would love tae meet ye.”

The space smelled of sterile laundry and sawdust.  With a habit borne of years of practice, Claire disinfected her hands in the small utility sink and donned a spare mask from the nearby dispenser, all while wondering what the hell she was doing.

The children were seated on colourful chairs arranged around a low table, its surface covered in pieces of pre-cut lumber, colourful pots of paint, a glue gun and all manner of cheap decorations such as you would find at a craft store.  The little girls ranged in age from pre-school to young teen, but they all looked at Jamie as though he’d hung the moon as he addressed them.

“Ladies, I’d like ye tae meet Doctor Beauchamp.  She’s a braw doctor but I bet she kens next tae nothing about woodwork.  Ye’ll have tae show her how it’s done.”

A chorus of nervous giggles was the only response.  Claire knew from experience that being a medical professional wasn’t going to endear her to children who spent much of their lives being essentially tortured in the name of science, hoping for some kind of miracle.

“Hello, everyone,” she waved meekly.  “You can call me Miss Claire, if you like.  Now, whatever are you doing with all this wood?”

It turned out that Jamie was supervising the construction of a half-dozen birdhouses.  He had pre-cut the lumber for easy assembly, but was assisting each girl to create a custom masterpiece that would hang outside her hospital window.  With the patience and steady manner of a primary school teacher, Jamie led the group through each step.  

A waifish girl of perhaps six sat directly to Claire’s left, her bare scalp covered by a brightly coloured bandana, offset by a huge pair of peacock-blue eyes that glimmered above her mask.  Eyes that were the mirror of the ones that visited her office every Thursday.  Something heavy settled inside her ribs.

“What’s your name, sweetie?” she asked in a low voice as she pushed an open pot of sky blue paint away from the table’s edge.  Small hands busied themselves pulling apart a package of cotton balls that looked suspiciously like the ones kept in the hospital’s supply cabinet.

“Margaret Murray, Doctor, errr, Miss Claire,” came the timid reply.  

Not Fraser, then.  But that didn’t necessarily mean anything.  She snuck a glance across the table at Jamie, who was just then teasing the youngest girl by tickling her cheeks with a fake feather.  Despite her heavy thoughts, she couldn’t help but smile.  That smile faltered when she noticed that the inside of Jamie’s elbows bore a matching set of fresh bandages.   A series of puzzle pieces tumbled into place.

Perhaps sensing the weight of her scrutiny, Jamie looked their way, whistling in admiration when he saw Maggie’s near-complete birdhouse.

“Tis a fine hame ye’ve built fer yer wee birds, Maggie.  What is all yon white fluff for?”

“Tis clouds, Uncle Jamie,” Maggie replied with the certainty of childhood.  “I dinna want the birdies tae miss the sky, even when they arenna flyin’.”

Claire watched the words hit him as surely as though they had been bullets.  A frozen gasp, a shudder that travelled the length of his body and the crest of tears that he tried valiantly to blink away.

“Aye, ye’re right, a nighean.  Any bird would be fair honoured tae sleep in yer skyhouse,” he managed to reply, voice bouldery with contained emotion.

When each birdhouse was complete and left along the window ledge to dry, Jamie set his small crew of helpers the task of clearing up the mess.   Claire stood next to him as he loaded his tools back into a small carrying case.

“Thanks for inviting me to join you, Jamie.  It was... well, it was unexpectedly wonderful,” she admitted.

“Ye’re most welcome, Doctor Beauchamp.  We couldna have managed wi’out yer steady hand manning the glue gun,” he teased.

“You’re not my patient here, Jamie.  You don’t need to use my title,” she said, a bit vexed by his formality.

“Aye, but it doesna feel right tae call ye by yer given name either.  An’ Miss Claire is jes weird.”

She had to acknowledge that he had a point.

“What was it you called me earlier?  Sassa-something?”

“Sassenach.  My Da woulda skelped my hide if he heard me call a lady by that name,” he said ruefully.

“Why, does it mean something terribly offensive?”  She was almost afraid to know, having enjoyed the delusion that Jamie felt as fondly towards her as she did towards him.

“Nah, tis jes an old-fashioned word for an English person in Scotland.  Seemed tae suit ye, is all.”  He shrugged, seemingly embarrassed by the explanation.

“Well then, Sassenach it is.  When I’m not on the clock, that is.”

Jamie’s eyes danced above his mask the way they did when he smiled, and she imagined hers replied in much the same way.  A long moment passed when nothing was said, neither of them looking away.

“You’re her platelet donor,” she said at last.  “Maggie’s, I mean.”

“Aye.  Every week while she’s in hospital for chemotherapy.  Tis the least I can do.”

It was an explanation that fit all the facts, but one that she never would have guessed.  Jamie had always worn long sleeves to his appointments, but she was certain the weeks when he was haggard and worn out coincided with the times he was donating the litres of blood necessary to distill into the platelet concentrate that would then be injected into Maggie’s body, helping her combat the poisonous effects of her chemotherapy.

“Whisky, women and song?” she prodded, relieved and yet frustrated that his offhand comment had kept her from seeing the truth.  “Why didn’t you just tell me, Jamie?”

“I didna want yer pity, Sassenach.  Fer once in my life, tis no’ about me, ye ken?  I didna want ye lookin’ at me like I was some kind of hero.”

She held back her reaction that his was a textbook definition of heroism, and instead asked the next obvious question.

“Are you a compatible bone marrow donor as well?”

Jamie shook his head slowly.  Although he was a close match, he explained, it wasn’t close enough.   Maggie’s older brother, Wee Jamie, was a perfect match but the law prohibited him from becoming a donor until he was at least sixteen, in seven long years.

“We’re jes tryin’ tae buy her enough time,” he said sadly before stepping out of the room, explaining he’d be back momentarily.

Claire stood in a daze, running through everything she’d assumed about Jamie in light of these newest facts.  A light tug on her hand drew her back into the moment.  Maggie was looking up at her with wide, trusting eyes.

“Are ye the Sassenach lady Uncle Jamie and my Mam argue about?”

“I suppose I might be,” she replied, curious what had been said between the siblings that Maggie had overheard.

“Are ye a heart doctor?” Maggie continued.

“Well, no.  Not exactly.  I’m the kind of doctor who helps people who are sad, and I try to find a way for them to be happy again.”  It sounded so easy when explaining it to a six year old.

“Sometimes Mam and Da talk about Uncle Jamie when they dinna ken I’m listenin’.  I’m verra good at sneakin’,” Maggie confided, and Claire couldn’t help but smile.  What a precious child.    “I’m sure you are,” she replied warmly, a hand coming to rest gently on the tiny cloth-covered head.

“Mam says Uncle Jamie is more stubborn than a mule and that he canna see past his own big heid,” Maggie continued.  Claire couldn’t say that she disagreed with that assessment.

“But Da says Uncle Jamie’s heart has been broken too many times, and thas’ why he’s given up on living.  Can ye fix his heart, Miss Claire, so that it isna broken any more?”

She couldn’t have stopped her tears if she tried.   She knelt on the floor and gathered Maggie’s thin, fragile body in her arms.

“Oh, Maggie.  I’m certainly going to try.”

[hookingminor]

close quarters (final) - andre burakovsky

a/n: here’s the final part! thank you all so much for your support and love for this series, and I’m so glad to finally mark it as finished! I love y’all and thanks, as usual this isn’t proofread

word count: 3,339

one / two / three / four

-

“Andre, stop, we have to get going,” you giggled out, but he didn’t stop his ministrations. In fact, he only tightened his grip around your middle to pull you closer into his chest.

“We can be a little late, they'll understand,” Andre mumbled into your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your skin. You were in the middle of applying finishing touches to your makeup, but it was becoming a little hard to ignore your leech of a boyfriend who wouldn’t let you go.

He tugged you by the belt loops of your jeans, causing you to bend slightly as your ass dug into his crotch. You rolled your eyes at his needy actions, pulling the mascara brush away from your face before Andre made you smear it. He had been trying to seduce you into a quickie since getting to your apartment to pick you up, but you’d be damned if you missed your first team barbecue because Andre wanted to bend you over this sink.

“I don’t want to make a bad first impression by showing up too late,” you replied, swatting his hands away, though his grip would not be broken.

“You’ve already met, like, the whole team. What’s the big deal?” He asked, turning your body around by your belt loops so you could face him. His hands bracketed you between his body and the counter.

“And last time I saw them they all thought I was Tyson’s date,” you explained, raising your arms to rest on his shoulders, “They’re going to think I’m some kind of team whore or something.”

“No one thinks that,” Andre said, nudging your face to the side with his nose, “In fact, they all think it’s hilarious that Tyson had to parent trap us.” He punctuated the last sentence with a kiss on your cheek, but you gave him an unconvinced look.

The few months since the charity event passed in a blur. After you and Andre eventually got together, it didn’t take long for him to put an exclusivity clause on your relationship, which you had absolutely no problem with.

Andre made sure to more than make up for all the lost time he missed due to his stupidity, and he spent that whole week after your first date at your apartment, not that you minded. He took you on more dates: walks through downtown, dinners at fancy restaurants, hitting up the new art exhibits, taking you to Nuggets games, the whole nine yards. He also tried to play it off by saying that he never got the chance to show you around the city, and you didn’t argue with him.

However, your time together was cut in half due to the constant road trips he was going on, but you didn’t mind this either. Andre called you at least once when he was on the road just to check in on how your day was going and to hear your voice, though he never admitted that last fact to you.

It didn’t surprise you how fast you fell for him. Honestly, you were probably already half in love with him when you first started dating.

And Tyson took all the credit, to absolutely no one’s surprise. He called you instantly after Andre showed up to practice the following week, bouncing off the walls and riding a high that could only be attributed to you. Tyson was annoying about it, as expected, but you thanked him anyway for giving Andre the final push to ask you out.

“I call being the godfather of your first child, you can’t say no because I’ll be the reason the child will even exist,” Tyson said after you told him the details of your date, to which you rolled your eyes in response.

“I’m not agreeing to that, and you’re projecting really hard right now with these assumptions,” you replied, but he scoffed and said that when it did happen, he was definitely bringing it up again.

Now, you were finally attending your first team get together as Andre’s official girlfriend. He’d begged you to at least attend some home games, which you did, but you’d watched from the stands like a regular fan rather than sitting with the other wives and girlfriends.

“I talk about you constantly, they basically already know everything about you,” Andre said as he pressed a kiss against your frown lines.

“Oh, do you now?” You asked with a smirk, and Andre gave you a small smile.

“Of course I do,” he said, “They all ask me about you anyway.”

“Then I really don’t want to make a bad impression by missing the party,” you insisted, manually tearing his hands from your body, though you were met with much resistance on his part.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you?” He begged, giving you those big puppy dog eyes as he tried one last time. You were almost tempted to give in and throw him on your bed, but your desire to get to the barbecue was slightly more than your desire to jump his bones.

“Let’s get you out of here before you explode or something,” you chuckled as you left Andre standing by the sink while you stalked back to the bedroom. He shifted on his feet, slightly adjusting his pants before crossing his arms.

“Maybe if you didn’t parade around in those tight jeans,” he grumbled, unamused. You, maybe, had definitely put them on with the intention of catching his eye, but they also made your ass and legs look amazing.

“Alright, bud, let’s get going then,” you said, beckoning him forward like he was an unruly child. You didn’t miss the groan of defeat that escaped his throat, obviously conveying his discontent, as he crossed the small space to follow you out of the bedroom and out of the apartment.

-

Hoots and hollers were heard all around you as you entered Gabe’s house on Andre’s arm. Low whistles mixed with warm greetings, both from the guys and the girls respectively. Andre had given them all a heads-up beforehand with warnings to not make asses of themselves, but it seemed they were ignoring his requests, as always.

“Burky, who’s the babe with you?” Tyson called out from the kitchen, which resulted in a whop on the head from Mel, who told him to behave. You instinctively stepped closer to Andre, tucking your head into his shoulder to let out a small chuckle of embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” Andre whispered into your ear before pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Please, it’s just Tyson, I can handle him,” you snorted as you followed Andre into the home. A majority of them were gathered out on the patio, the sliding door open because of all the foot traffic in and out of the house.

A bunch of the guys said their hellos as you gradually joined the crowd, and you were soon being pulled into a side hug as Tyson inserted himself between you and Andre.

“Could you be any more annoying?” You questioned him as you felt your body being torn from Andre’s due to Tyson’s wiggling. He draped his arms around both of your shoulders.

“Easily,” he said, rotating his face to give both you and Andre matching grins.

Andre rolled his eyes at Tyson’s antics, gently shoving him away until he could pull you back into his arms.

“Everyone, this is Y/N,” Andre introduced you with his hand around your waist, and you gave the group a small wave. You already knew most of the people there, so they didn’t bother introducing themselves.

“It’s about time he brought you around,” Nate piped up, “He only talks about you twenty-four, seven.” A chorus of ‘yeah’s sounded around the circle, but you just chuckled. Andre didn’t try to deny it either, they all knew how he felt about you.

“Hopefully we’ll be seeing more of you?” Calvert’s wife asked hopefully. You remembered her from the charity event, one of the girls who had welcomed you into their circle for the night, instantly taking you under her wing like the mother she was.

“I plan on keeping her around, so I’d say yes,” Andre spoke for you, and you swore you could hear Mikko fake gagging behind Andre’s back at the sweetness, though he shot you a quick wink when you caught him.

“I hate to tear this happy couple apart,” Gabe spoke up, suddenly joining the group, “but can I pull Burky aside for a few minutes? You wanted to see the new grill, right?” Andre nodded before looking at you to make sure you were okay with it, and you nudged for him to go with Gabe, a look in your eyes that said you’d be just fine alone.

It didn’t take long for the other girls to sweep you up with them as most of the guys had dispersed to check out the new grill, or whatever. You honestly couldn’t have cared less about what they were talking about as you were sure it was mundane and something only guys could like, so you were glad for the girls dragging you away to get some drinks.

Someone had slid a spiked iced tea into your hands before you knew it, and then they were immediately asking you questions.

“Where have you been? We’ve only been hounding Andre for weeks now to bring you around,” Nate’s girlfriend asked.

“Been a little busy lately,” you replied, taking a sip of the iced tea that was probably way too strong for a casual barbecue, “I didn’t want to intrude on anything.”

“Please, you could never intrude,” Mel commented, “It’s about time he began settling down anyway.” The other girls hummed their agreement.

“How’s it been going so far?” Belley’s wife asked.

“Good so far. I really like him,” you confessed, feeling your cheeks warm in embarrassment. All the girls gave you a knowing look.

“Well, he really likes you too,” Mel added, and you could tell there was a story there but you didn’t press her for details.

“He’s barely paying attention to anything Gabe’s saying,” Belley’s wife noted, gesturing towards the direction of the guys. You turned your body glance at him and sure enough, Andre was already looking at you. Your lips quirked up in a smile as you waved at him, to which he returned it with one of his own.

Someone called Andre’s attention back to whatever they were talking about, and you could practically hear the ribbing he was getting for being so smitten. A few girls ‘aw’d at the gesture while the rest began picking at you for the same exact thing.

“God, I love love,” someone gushed, but you weren’t quite sure who.

Soon, one iced tea turned into three and the few minutes you thought you were spending with the girls turned into an hour before Andre had found his way back to you.

“How are you doing?” He asked, stepping up behind you and wrapping a hand around your waist. Instinctively, you leaned your body into his, taking comfort in his presence. “Seems like someone’s had a few drinks.” Andre chuckles at your flushed face, your inhibitions lowered after the strong drinks.

“These iced teas are good,” was all you said in response, turning your face upwards to give him a wide grin.

“Yeah, Mel makes them strong,” he said, lifting his eyes from you to glance at Mel, who seemed quite pleased with herself for getting you drunk. “Come sit with me for a little bit.” Andre didn’t have to ask you twice, you were happy to follow his guidance from the kitchen to the outdoor seating.

The seats around the fire pit were nearly all full, but Andre didn’t hesitate to take the last vacant spot and tug you onto his lap. His hands immediately came to rest on your hip and thighs, and you didn’t miss the way everyone’s eyes fell on you both.

“How are you liking Denver?” JT asked when you joined the group. Normally you would’ve been self-conscious about the public displays of affection you were showing, but it must’ve been the alcohol in your system because you didn’t mind.

“I love it here,” you answered as Andre began rubbing small circles into your legs with his thumbs, “It’s different from D.C., but I’m enjoying it.”

They asked you a few more questions about work and when you were going to finally show up to a game, and you replied with ease, even jumping into conversations when the topics finally transitioned to other people.

A couple more hours passed in pleasant chat, new people coming and going every once in a while. Occasionally Andre would pull you into your own side conversation, easily getting distracted as you forgot that you were with others when he was whispering in your ear.

“Are you having a good time?” He asked, chin resting on your shoulder as you divert your attention from the current story being told to your boyfriend. Andre seemed happy enough, his cheeks were warm from the fire burning in front of you, and he was smiling as he asked the question.

“I’m having a great time, are you?” You replied, carding your fingers through his curls.

“Of course,” he said, “I’ve got my girl and my friends. What more could I want?”

“Say that any louder and they’re going to start making whip-cracking sounds,” you laughed lightly.

Andre didn’t respond. Instead, he only nuzzled his nose against your cheek, too blissed out to care about the stares you were receiving. Cupping his face, you quickly leaned down to press a kiss against his lips. When you pulled away, you were met with Andre’s dazed grin, his eyes light and full of mirth.

In Andre’s mind, this moment couldn’t get any more perfect. He’d been wanting for weeks now to introduce you to everyone, and seeing you interact and get along with them in person made all the waiting worth it. He watches you intently as you chime in with a comment and get dragged into giving them your opinions on the subject. If Andre was being honest, he wasn’t paying attention to what they were talking about, only paying attention to you and the way your eyes lit up when you laughed.

He had no doubt he probably looked like a lovesick puppy right now, but he was happy: happy with you, happy with how the team was playing, happy that for the first time in his life everything felt right.

You glanced back at him for a split second just to check in on him when it hit Andre with full force. He was in love with you.

-

bonus: epilogue

“Long time, no see, squirt,” Tom greeted you as he engulfed you in a hug.

“I hate it when you call me that,” you grumbled, but you knew he ignored it.

“And that’s why I continue to say it,” he chuckled, ruffling your hair before turning his attention to Andre, “Burky, how’s it going?” You watched as they did that signature bro handshake and back pat thing that all guys seemed to do no matter what the situation was.

“I feel like I’m intruding on something personal. Should I leave you guys alone?” You teased with a laugh, and they both turned to glare at you.

“Taylor says hello, by the way,” Tom said with an eye roll.

The Capitals were in Denver for a game, and Andre took it upon himself to invite them all over for dinner. Tom showed up an hour early to see you before the rest of the team got there, though you were starting to wish he would’ve just waited.

“You should’ve brought her,” you remarked. It’d been a year since moving to Denver, and you had yet to see your friend.

“Well maybe you should just come back to D.C. next time Colorado comes to get their ass kicked,” he threw back.

“Hey,” Andre called back from the kitchen, “Try saying that again after tomorrow.”

“Gladly,” Tom said, and you chuckled. Despite your boyfriend playing for Colorado, D.C. was your home and the Capitals would always be your team.

Andre dipped back into the kitchen, working on finishing up the burgers before he had to get them on the grill.

“I love what you’ve done with the place,” Tom said when Andre was out of sight, leaving the two of you alone on the couch.

Your lease had expired a month ago, and Andre hadn’t seen the point in you renewing it when you spent a majority of the time at his place and you agreed. A whole drawer in his dresser was already dedicated to you, and he kept your favorite shampoo and a toothbrush for you, and you’d begun helping him decorate the interior of his apartment with personalized touches to make it seem less like a hospital ward and more homey.

“He has no sense of style, so of course I had to do it all,” you joked. The apartment was coming together nicely, though. You finally brought some color into the monochrome, and you knew he loved your array of blankets even though he complained about how many you kept around the place.

“It looks a lot better than when I was here last time,” Tom said, taking one of your knitted blankets and draping it across his lap, “I’m glad you two are together. I’ve never seen him this happy.”

“Yeah, well, no thanks to you and your hands off rule,” you snorted.

“Take that up with Taylor. I wanted to introduce you back in Washington when she first brought you around, but she shot that down immediately,” Tom said, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Alright you lazy ass,” Andre shouted out, “Help me with the grill.” Andre made sure to smack Tom on the side of the head as he passed the couch before he stopped next to you to place a kiss on the top of your head.

Tom cursed his discontent, throwing off the blanket before following Andre out to the balcony, but he made sure to ruffle your hair in the process. You watched the two of them out by the grill, the smiles clear on their faces though you couldn’t hear them through the closed door.

“So, planning to lock that down any time soon?” Tom asked Andre once they were secluded outside. Andre’s eyes flickered back to your figure on the couch, but you were focused on something on your phone.

“Maybe,” Andre answered vaguely, though a smirk slowly spread across his face. Truth was, he was thinking about it. It had only been a year, and he didn’t plan on proposing any time soon, but he had thought about it. “Not now, but maybe in a year or so. I started looking at rings.”

Tom raised his eyebrows in surprise. Andre obviously talked about you a lot. You were the topic of most of their conversations because he couldn’t stop gushing about you, but this was the first time Andre mentioned anything serious.

“She’s good for you,” Tom noted, and he truly felt happy for his friend. The only downside to this was Taylor was definitely going to give him hell if Andre proposed to you before Tom did to her. “Don’t fuck it up.”

Andre chuckled as he nodded his head in agreement. The conversation moved on to other topics as they awaited the arrival of the rest of the team, not wanting to spend all their time discussing you; Tom got enough of that on their occasional facetime dates.

Periodically, Andre found himself glancing back through the door to check on you, even though you didn’t move from your spot the whole half hour they were outside. It didn’t matter where he was or what he was doing, he was always looking for you. And he wouldn’t want it any other way.

[deanandthephantoms]

We're a Perfect Harmony PT.3 - Reader x Charlie

This is Chapter 3 of my Perfect Harmony story. You can read Chapter 1 here and Chapter 2 here if you haven't yet. In this chapter we'll see what life after camp is like for y/n and Charlie.. Enjoy!

Missing you more than i should..

When I got home I was overwhelmed by the amount of silence in my home. I used to love being home, curling up on the couch watching a movie or reading a book in silence. I hated loud, crowded places and now I actually missed it? What happened to me? Who am I?! I thought to myself..

“Y/N is that you?” I heard my mom call out from the living room. “Hi mom!” i said while walking up to her and giving her a big hug. “How are you doing honey? How was it?” I hadn’t really spoken to my mom at all during the week, I had let her know once that I was doing alright and that was basically it. “It was incredible mom. I had the best group of people surrounding me..” and so I told her everything about my new group of friends and everything we had done during the week.. “Thanks for making me go mom.” “You’re glowing Y/N! I’m so happy you had such a good time. I honestly felt bad for making you go when I saw how nervous you were.” “yeah.. I kind of hated you for that.. but I guess sometimes mom really does know best.” After talking to my mom I decided to lay down for a bit all those late night chill sessions with Charlie and a night of not sleeping at all was really taking it’s toll, I don’t think I had ever been this tired before. I fell asleep with a smile on my face only to wake up the next freaking day at 10am. I slept for 15 hours I really had been tired.. I picked up my phone to see I was indeed added to the girls group chat, I was also in a chat with our entire camp group and Charlie had , like he promised, sent me a private text. Seeing that put a smile on my face. Now I know what you’re thinking.. but I really just liked him as a friend that’s all. I opened his message.

“Good morning Nugget! On a scale of 1 to 100% dead.. how tired are you?” I raised my eyebrow at the nugget part, no idea where that was coming from. Without hesitation I replied.. “ Hellllooooo! Nugget? What’s up with that? Very bold of you to assume that I was even tired to begin with by the way.. but to answer your question, I have slept for 15 hours.. that says something doesn’t it?” I was about to put my phone down assuming Charlie would take his sweet time to reply. But no. the 3 dots that told me he was typing appeared almost instantly and  seconds later this popped up on my screen; “15 HOURS?! Really? Are you sure you weren’t dead and came back to life or something? I thought I was bad with my 12 hours.. I’m blaming you for the fact I’m so tired by the way.” He’s blaming me?! Excuse me? “Pardon? What? What did I do?!” “You kept me up till at least 3am every night only to be woken up again at 7am.. i’ve never been so tired coming home after camp. So yes I’m blaming you Nugget.” “The nugget again? Really? Anyway. I’m not sorry. You kept ME up actually. I’m blaming you Charlie.” “Yes Nugget. You mentioned once you like nuggets. I’m calling you nugget now. You can’t stop me. Oh and I’m not sorry either 😉” “Riiight. Don’t expect me to start calling you after one of your gross foods.. but all jokes aside, i’m glad you’re not sorry. I mean, all those late nights might be one of my favorite things of last week.”  “Really? I genuinely thought I annoyed the shit out of you.” That text made me laugh. “Don’t get your hopes up Gillespie. You sure did. Apparently you’re just the type of guy who gets away with it.” I teased. “Ouch.. that hurt. :( “ is all I got as a reply. Which caused my brain to go in full panic mode, did I just really hurt my new friend? Oh god what if this ruined it all? As fast I could I sent him “I’m sorry! I’m just kidding! You know that right?! You didn’t annoy me at all dude, in fact you did the opposite you made me feel super chill and comfortable..” I stared at my screen for what felt like hours, in reality it was probably more like 5 minutes but I got no reply..

I sighed deciding to ignore my own stupid actions I got up from my bed and went downstairs making myself some breakfast. Sitting down at the table I actually found myself missing the man that had sat opposite of me the entire week. I was missing the man that made me feel sick with his strange food combinations. Missing the man that called me out for looking dead after 3 hours of sleep. Missing the man that annoyed me with how loud he was so early in the morning. Don’t get me wrong I missed the others as well they had all, in their own way, made that week a very good week for me. I had just connected with Charlie in a different way, he seemed to really get me, he understood where I was coming from. He had not once judged me, he made me come out of my comfort zone.. My phone buzzed on the table, my hand flew straight to it and picked it up only to see Charlie had replied. I felt my heart speed up and started feeling very nervous. Why was this happening? why was i scared for his reply? We had been teasing each other right from the start. This could not have been so bad that I ruined everything, right?!

With a deep sigh I opened our chat back up. “Y/N calm down. I know. I was just kidding too! Good to know I made you feel that way though. You do realize you did the same for me right? You made me feel better when I was feeling down. I really appreciate that.” I couldn’t help but let out a big sigh of relief. Thank god everything was alright. Why did I care so much? I had known this man for 8 days. Why was I already so afraid of ruining this friendship? “Charlie, I swear to god, you can never do that to me again! I thought I ruined it all..” I typed, but deleted. I didn’t want him to know a simple joke made me go into full panic mode, he’ll think I’m crazy.. so instead I went with “ha-ha, very funny Gillespie. And hey, cheering each other up, that’s what friends are for right? 😊” “Yeah definitely. You didn’t have to do that though, you barely knew me. Yet seemed to know me better than the people I’ve known for years. You noticed things others didn’t notice or they just decided to ignore it. You didn’t. You’re a good friend Nugget. I’m thankful for getting a chance to meet and know you.”

Reading that made me feel al warm and fuzzy inside I just sat there at the kitchen table with a dumb goofy smile on my face. That’s when my mom walked in. “What are you smiling about?” “ohhh nah it’s nothing.” I simply replied, hoping my mom would buy it. Too bad for me my mom knew me longer than today. “It’s a boy, isn’t it?” “Mom! I.. eeh.. no?.. I mean.. well technically.. Yes. But no. Charlie is just a friend mom.” And I truly believed I felt that way, my mom clearly didn’t though ..”oh alright, well we’ll see.” She replied. Before leaving me once again to get back to her office. I directed my attention back to the screen “You’re a good friend too Charlie. I’m thankful my mom made me go to camp. Thankful I now can call a few amazing people my new friends. I really miss you guys. Is that weird?” “Thank your mom from me for making you go! 😉 And no, that’s not weird. We all feel that way after camp. Don’t worry the feeling will vanish over time and we’ll keep in touch through texts and facetime!” “Facetime huh? Why don’t we facetime later, you can thank my mom yourself haha!” i texted half jokingly but Charlie seemed to think it was a good idea. We kept sending text to each other the rest of day and I noticed I was looking forward to seeing his face again. I missed his bright smile, his facial expressions that said everything for me. His eyes that showed he was fully invested in whatever you’re telling him. I missed his hugs. They really were the best hugs I had ever had. I sighed at the thought of having to miss those for a whole year.. Can’t exactly hug through facetime, can you?

Later that night Charlie called me on facetime, accepting his call I saw his bright smile pop up on my screen. “Nuggeeettt!” he screamed at me sounding all excited. I couldn’t help but instantly feel happy and laugh at him. I refused to get used to that nickname but also decided not to fight him on it tonight. “Gillespieeeeeeee!” I just screamed back at him earning a big smile in return. “Soo, first things first, get me to your mom, I need to thank her.” “Your wish is my command sir!” I reply as I get up from my bed to find my mom. I find her in the livingroom on the couch. “Hey mom, Charlie wants to tell you something” I say while handing her the phone. “Hello Mrs.Y/L/N!” “Ah, so you’re Charlie! I’ve already heard quite a bit about you.” If looks could kill I would have killed my own mom right then and there.. “Yes.. that would be me. I just wanted to thank you for sending your daughter to camp. She has been a good friend to all of us.” My mom laughed “You’re welcome dear. Thank you for doing the same to her” My mom then handed me my phone back. Giving her one last glare I make my way back to my bedroom. “Sorry about that..” I say to Charlie while walking upstairs. “Sorry for what? Your mom seems lovely. No need to be sorry.” Thankful for the fact he apparently did not pick up on the whole ‘heard quite a bit about you.’ I let out big breath I apparently had been holding in.

I sat back down on my bed and luckily for me Charlie had grabbed his guitar “so. How about we continue our little tradition of singing? Name a song and we’ll sing it.” He said with the biggest smile. I was just glad I did not have to explain why I apologized and quickly started thinkin of a song. “Do you know High hopes by Kodaline? It’s not the happiest song, but it’s sooo good!” “I’m kind of offended by the fact you’re even asking me if I know it.. It’s actually one of the first songs I learned to play on this guitar.” And before I could apologize for offending him I heard the first chords of High hopes being played. As if we were still on camp we sang a few songs, granted it didn’t go as smooth thanks to delay in the video and such but still it was nice. After a few songs I heard my mom come up and calling out a good night. “Char.. I think I’m gonna have to go. My mom is going to bed so you know I gotta be quiet now…” “Nooo! don’t hang up just yet. We can still just talk for a bit right?” I was caught of guard by his plea for me to stay. “I, eh. Yeah. Yeah we can. Of course we can. Give me a second though. I’m gonna change into my PJ’s.” and with that I threw my phone on the bed, grabbing my oversized Rush t-shirt that basically functioned as a sleeping dress. “Nice ceiling you’ve got there nugget.” I heard Charlie call out. Giving him a chuckle as response. Once I changed into my PJ’s I picked my phone up and brought Charlie with me to the bathroom. “Loving the house tour Y/N, where are we going now?” “To the bathroom. I need to brush my teeth.” “oh right let me go do the same!” and he sprinted of with me to his own bathroom. About a minute later we were brushing our teeth together. causing us both to giggle at each others charming facial expressions.

After I was done I went back to my bedroom and crawled into bed making myself comfortable. “sooo I assume you don’t want to be here when I go pee right?” “Eeew Charles! No. Either hang up the phone or put me somewhere far away!” He laughed at me “Yeah thought so.  I’m not hanging up so let me just put you down on my bed.” “ Oof.. That also sounds a bit strange sir.. But sure. You do that.” “kinda does, doesn’t it?” he laughed “Okay, I’ll be back, don’t go anywhere.” And with that I was staring at Charlie’s ceiling waiting for him to come back.. which he did incredibly quickly.

Crawling into his own bed he picked me up only to instantly put me back down again."You actually waited for me!" He said while I could see him taking off his shirt nothing I had not seen before but still a sight I sure was not mad about. “of course i waited, why would i leave without saying goodbye?” i reply before Charlie fell back down on the bed and picked me back up, trying to get comfortable he was tossing and turning a bit. “You alright there, Charlie?” I said half teasingly. “Yeah, quite comfortable actually. You? I really like your shirt by the way.” Why did I feel myself starting to blush? Acting as if nothing was happening to me I replied in my chillest and coolest way; “Yeah I’m alright. Very comfortable as well actually. Nothing beats sleeping in your own bed right?” “I don’t know about that nugget, I could think of a thing or two I totally would pick over sleeping in my own bed.” “Really like what?” When I see a mischievous smile appear on his face i’m suddenly scared of the answer I’m about to get. “Oh you know..” He falls silent with that same damn smile on his face. When I raise an eyebrow at him he continues; . “You know, Sleeping in a tent at festivals, or just camping with some friends in a beautiful piece of nature or something.” i let out a sigh of relief “oh righttt. Yeah i’m fully on board with all of that.”

Charlie and I talked for another hour while we we’re both laying in our beds. At some point I felt my eyes getting heavier and heavier, and I kept fighting it as hard as I could. I was enjoying this conversation way too much for me to go to sleep now. I totally believed I was hiding it from Charlie as well. I clearly didn’t though..“Hey Y/N?” “Mhhmm?” “You’re about to fall asleep aren’t you?” I’m silent for a while now really almost falling asleep. “Goodnight nugget.” I suddenly hear Charlie say softly. That wakes me back up a bit. “NO!” I clear my throat before continuing “I mean.. no I’m not tired..” “Oh really you’re not tired huh?” Charlie starts to imitate the way I had been acting and reacting the last 20 minutes. “okay okay Fine. Stop it Gillespie. You win, Nighty night Charles.” “night night Y/N. Talk to you again tomo.. well in a few hours,” He gives me one last sweet smile before I close my eyes and I hear Charlie hang up the phone right as I’m about to fall asleep. 

Charlie and I kept in contact like that every single day. We didn’t start our day without wishing each other a good morning and refused to go to bed without wishing each other a goodnight and giving each other a virtual hug. During our schooldays we took every free second to text and we made sure to hype each other up when something important had to be done. Late nights were still being made but the few hours of sleep never seemed to bother me. I was basically running on 4 to 5 hours of sleep each day and was doing just fine. i didn’t even come close to feeling tired and was ready to do it all over again the next day. Months passed spending my time just like that..

I had been in contact with all of them on the regular and today i was actually meeting up with Madison who lived somewhat close to me. I was so excited to see her again. We had agreed to meet at a train station and that’s where I was now waiting for her to arrive. Y/N! I hear Madison yell out. I look in the direction the voice was coming from, I see Madison and run up to her to embrace her in a hug. "Madiiiiii! I missed you! How youu doing?" I let go of her and she laughs at me. "How you doin? Charlie, is that you? " Leaving no room for me to defend myself she continues "kidding, I'm great! How are youu giiirl?" while catching up on how life has been we walk to the restaurant where we had made lunch reservations.

“Sooo” Madison said once we were sat at our table. “ Soo.. what?” i asked the girl who was grinning at me. “ Sooo what’s up with you and Charlie?” i give her a confused look.”What do you mean? We’re friends, Mads. You already knew that though..” Madi laughs at me. “ Really Y/N? That’s all you’re giving me? I know you and Charlie have been talking pretty much non-stop..” I can feel the blood flowing to my cheeks when I say “Well yeah, yeah we have. And yes I have enjoyed every minute of that. But that doesn’t mean anything is going on between us. We just get along very well. Besides, he’s still with Emma so I’m sorry to disappoint you but we’re just friends..” Madi just looks at me for a while before a smile spreads on her face.” What?” I ask her. “ You like him.” She simply states with the biggest smile.” What?! Mads I just told you..” I blurt out a little too loud and a little too fast to actually be somewhat convincing.. causing Madison to laugh at me again. “ Girl you soooo do! “

By now I feel like I'm looking like a tomato, bright red, and i don’t even know why. I truly believed I liked Charlie as a friend, nothing more nothing less. Sure he was the sweetest man i had ever met and sure he believed in me like no one had ever done. and yes we had this incredible connection and were on the same wavelength on so many topics. Yes he got me, yes I felt safe enough to fully be myself and fully be honest with him about everything. aaaand yes he was goood looking. But i didn’t like him like that. I Couldn’t. He was with Emma. Me and him were just friends. I would not let myself get a crush on this guy. It would ruin everything. “ Look Mads. I’m not gonna lie. I do miss hanging out with him in real life and Charlie does make me very happy. But i don’t like him like that. He’s just a good friend to me.” Madison clearly was not convinced.”Sure, keep telling yourself that Y/N.”

And I did. In the following weeks I kept telling myself I didn't like him. I just missed him that was all. The more I talked to Charlie and the more the girls teased me about liking him the less I started to believe my own excuses. Untill the day i couldn’t deny it any longer. I totally liked Charlie more than a friend..

- read chapter 4 here

[fourmarkdove]

Cider.

Prompt: How about an angsty Henry x reader: she is told during a nightmare/dream that she has only one day left to live - and that she must not reveal anything to her loved ones! Waking up in Henrys arms and realize how lucky she was... Even if it couldnt last forever... @scorpionchild81

Title: Cider.

Words: 3k

Summary: Hurt/Comfort. Angst. Fluff. You hear in a dream you have only one day left to live.

Paring: Henry x reader

Warnings/Triggers: Anxiety, nightmares, panic attacks, dissociative disorder, death/dying. DD/lg if you squint and stand on one foot. (I think that’s everything?)

A/N: Pretty close to the prompt. Comments welcome. Thanks for reading!

~

Henry inhaled deeply, expanding his lungs audibly as he sat up in the bed you shared. He stroked a soothing hand over the curve of your hip while squinting in the dark, searching for the sound that woke him.

Clutching onto your pillow, you buried your face and mewled into it. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched you lying on your side, tense from the battle behind your closed eyes. His brows knitted with concern. It’d been so long since the nightmares claimed you, he thought for the last few weeks that maybe they’d gone altogether. He was clearly mistaken.

Dropping onto his forearm beside you, he carded his fingers through your hair and called to you gently. His first instinct was to burst through those fiery doors to hell and drag you back to this side of consciousness and safety, but it never worked that way. He had to tread gently, let you return to him on your own time. And it was incredibly painful to watch and wait for.

“Darling?” he beckoned, scratching the stubble on his chin over your shoulder like a puppy. “I’m here.”

Your lips parted and nails clawed into the pillow so sharply that the fabric finally ripped along the seam and soft white feathers fluffed out. A frown set his features hard. Cuddling his much larger frame to you, his thick arms encompassed you completely and thighs drew up close behind yours. He pressed his lips just behind your ear and let his warm breath fan over your skin.

“I’ll wait right here with you, Nugget.” As he began to gently rock your body, your grip on the pillow relaxed and he cooed into your ear about what a good girl you were.

Keeping his arms flexed tightly around your body, he hummed a soft tune, remembering how you always fell asleep in his arms in the hammock out back. He’d put a foot down to keep the two of you swaying, and he’d settle you on his chest, right under his chin, so you’d feel it when it’d rumble in his chest. Eventually you’d succumb to his comforting, and he’d feel your body melt into his long frame. He’d scratch the back of your arms, rub circles over your back, even hold your ass with a squeeze that’d make you sigh. You called it the ‘anxious hammock‘; his woman could call it anything she wanted so long as she felt protected and loved in it.

You’d been extra anxious lately with the news and social distancing and people in your social circle getting sick. And with him leaving your self imposed quarantine to focus on training going back to the Witcher set soon, it really ramped up your anxiety. 

It expressed itself little by little, starting with hugs around his neck as he was about to leave for the gym, but then when he would straighten up, you’d still be clinging on, dangling off of your feet. He’d chuckle and kiss all over your face, leaving you smiling. But other times, he’d find you hugging your knees, tears rolling down your cheeks until the shower ran cold and turned your lips almost blue. 

Other nights, he fully knew what your migraines looked like, so when you’d pretend to have one just so you could avoid dinner, he worried. He still finished dinner, cleaned up a bit, walked Kal and came to bed early with that lavender lotion you liked smeared into his palms. You and he spent a lot of time in that bed together, or the hammock, or the shower, just touching and being together. 

When things felt so uncertain and all of the words and tears were wrung out, you’d take turns massaging oil or lotion into each other. He always needed his kitten’s touch kneading against his sore muscles. And you needed his strength to pull you from the anxious knots you tied yourself into.

It really should have come as no surprise that the nightmares returned. The problem was that he wanted to do more - to solve an unsolvable problem - and that frustrated him to no end. He applied himself and conquered so many other areas of his life but in this part, the most important part, he had to be patient.

Sliding his arm under your head like a pillow, he gently tilted your hips back into him to locate the blanket you tucked between your legs. He knew this was more of a marathon than a sprint, so he settled in with a clenched jaw and tried to exhale slowly and sleep.

The black void is a gasping, vacuous, gaping maw threatening to consume first your sanity and then eternity. You can feel the voice rattling through your rib cage, long before the words make conscious sense.

“One day,” the voice calls from nowhere and everywhere. “One day left and then no more.”

Your entire body shudders free of its own volition and you’re aware of the crisp, scratchy bedsheets under your body. Antiseptic. Something metallic on your tongue. Dripping, beeping, wooshing. Buzzing purple fluorescent lights above. Your eyes roll open, vaguely aware of a nurse checking bags, pushing buttons, lifting your blankets. No privacy, no options, no voice.

Why am I here in this hospital? Why am I alone? ‘One more day’ and then - no more?

Panic sets in. You want to scream but the words won’t come out. There’s so much you wanted to do with your life. So many places you were going to see. You wanted to start a family with Hen... wait. Where is Henry? Does he know where you are? What if he doesn’t and you never get to say goodbye? 

The thought of tears spilling over those bright blue eyes of his, knowing you’d never be able to hold him again, kiss him again made everything in your being ache. You are desperate to cry out but nothing. It’s as if you’re dead already.

Almost as soon as his long lashes closed over his stormy blue eyes, like falling down into your own body, every muscle jerked and you gasped back into consciousness.

Scrambling to sit up, you drew your legs in to get your feet under you. You tore away the covers and your hoarse voice ripped through your parched vocal cords: “Hhhhhhennnnryyyy!”

“I’m here, Nugget,” he offered, his broad shoulders ghosting behind you.

Despite its size, his hand curving around your ribs was incredibly gentle. You shuddered at his touch; horror darkened your pupils and bottom lip quivered like a harp string vibrating to the point of breaking. Your nails clawed desperately into the sweatpants covering his thigh. Lips parted, but no words formed just yet; your eyes closed tightly and fingers touched your lips ruefully.

“Just a dream, sweet,” he comforted in a strong baritone, wrapping his whole hand around your small fingers. “You’re alright. See? Your Henry Bear is right here. Let me hold you, darling?”

Nodding emphatically, you dug your toes into the sheets and launched your whole body at him, not thinking for one moment about how pathetic your whimpers and trembling arms clinging around his neck might have seemed.

His brows lifted in the center and he continued to follow your gaze right up until you buried your face in his neck. The corner of his lips ticked upwards only briefly, before he nuzzled his face into your hair. 

It was stored in his muscle memory by now just where to grasp under your bare thighs, so you could bend your knees and spread over his hips so he could ease you down into a more comfortable position in his lap. There was no awkwardness negotiating who needed to move which limb where because you’d been doing this for years. 

Only recently there was less blushing over soaked panties or groans caused by awkward erections; just within the last six months you found yourselves single simultaneously and decided to give it a try.

Your breath was hot and stilted between sobs into his shoulder; his stubble along his jawline was scratchy against your forehead and temple but you didn’t mind. You just needed the closeness. Lifting your hair up into a ponytail, he pursed his lips, and blew cool air across your sweaty neck.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he questioned, rubbing slow circles with spread fingertips over your back. Your body tensed at his words but began to relax again when you wound your fingers dipped into his chocolate curls.

“I… don’t want to die,” you could barely whisper over his broad shoulder. “I don’t want YOU to die.”

“Oh Nugget,” he sighed, kissing the nape of your neck. “You dreamed I died?”

“No,” you hiccuped, pulling away and tapping the K on his soft gray shirt, attempting to distract yourself while you explained. “I was. And I wasn’t - wasn’t going to see you and - My heart, Hen. It - it feels broken.”

Cupping your face in both hands, he lifted your gaze and kissed your wet cheeks. “Look at us right now…”

Sniffling, you tucked your hands in between his biceps and forearms. “I know. I - It just felt so real. It feels so real. I’m not sure this feels real. It’s too nice to be real. You are too nice. I don’t know how to be sure...”

Deep worry lines etched over his forehead. Pressing his lips together in a flat line, his nostrils flared and he crossed his arms over his chest, peeling off his shirt.

The bear of a man breathed deep and slow, opening his hands to you. He gave you a wide berth; there would be no forcing - ever. His was a silent invitation to this familiar tango you’d only ever done with him.

Your gaze darted from his large palms resting against your thighs to his patient blue eyes watching you carefully.

“It’s alright, darling,” he encouraged, the softest of smiles lifting the apples of his cheeks. He wiggled his long fingers and you held your breath, sliding your hands into his. You felt the rough spots and calluses from the weights, the weaponry, the rope work, the horses. He worked so hard and should be sleeping right now instead of dealing with whatever mess you brought to him.

His soft kiss pressed to your forehead drew you from your thoughts. “Keep going,” he whispered against your hairline and you narrowed your eyes, focusing on his hands again. 

They were warm and so strong holding you and - oh - his middle and index fingers. The amazing things they did together. You forced yourself to stop thinking of it but your two fingers stroking inside his two fingers, and the furious blush across your cheeks, made him chuckle.

“That’s my girl,” he grinned broadly. Despite your blush, you continued to dance your fingertips inside his forearms, feeling the veins and sinewy muscle, the thick curve of his biceps and and shoulders. With a soft sigh, you lifted your head, kissed his clavicle and nuzzled into the light smattering of his scratchy chest hair. It was your favorite place to cuddle into. 

His particular masculine scent filled your senses and soothed every frayed, exposed nerve in your body; his musk reminded you of spices like cinnamon and nutmeg, orange and cranberry being mixed into hot apple cider on a crisp fall day.

You continued to lazily trace lines along his ribs and down his back, but he knew by your sigh that you’d come home. Tenderly sweeping your hair over your shoulder, he slowly and deliberately slid one arm high across your shoulders and the other low around the small of your back.

“I’m sorry, my love,” you murmured, your voice returning to its usual sweet timbre. It signaled you were returning from the frenzied dissociative state kicked off by that horrifically anxious nightmare. It meant he could speak to you differently, touch you differently.

“You don’t need to be, sweetheart,” he countered, kissing your forehead.

Sweeping your fingers along the stubble of his jawline, you cooed whisper softly and tentatively brushed your lips to his. Securing you to himself, he touched noses and parted lips, deepening the first kiss. Your fingers pushed into the back of his hair and tugged just gently enough to make you both smile.

With a deep, rumbling purr, he grabbed your hips and rolled you easily under him. He caressed two knuckles over your temple and teased your lips apart with his; he chuckled when you chased after his mouth for another.

But you pressed the heels of your palms against his chest and immediately he planked his body, lifting all of his considerable weight off of your much smaller frame.

Shutting his eyes tight, he huffed an exasperated breath and clenched his jaw. He should have known better. It was much too soon to touch you like this.

He intended to roll off and give you all of the comforting and cuddles you needed - until you wiggled a little under him. You shifted just a bit on the bed, reaching down and dragging your t-shirt up your bare stomach. His head was dropped just enough so his dark curls caressed your chest when you lifted your shirt off over your head and sighed softly under him.

You couldn’t help but giggle just a little at the arched brow and wide eyes he gave you when his gaze dragged up your nearly naked body to your face again.

“Ahem.” He cleared his throat. “Ah, all better?”

“Yes, my love. Thank you.” Your answer was purely peaches and innocence during the act of wrapping your arms behind his neck drawing him down to you; only this time, he kept some of his weight lifted onto his forearms tucked under your shoulders.

“I thought I was crushing you.” He had a hint of playful warning in his tone.

“Oh. No, you know I love it even if you were,” you cooed, bending your knees and drawing your soft thighs up his ribs. “Isn’t it Oxytocin from the skin to skin contact?”

He smirked and grunted, catching one of your feet working on dragging the sweatpants down his hip. “I take it you’re feeling better.”

The corner or your lips twitched and your chest felt heavy all over again. You hated to admit it but the specter always lingered. “At the moment.”

“I know darling. We do these things one day at a time though, don’t we? Sometimes, by the minute?” He glanced up while you rolled the curls of his hair over your fingers. Collecting your wrist, he drew it to his mouth and kissed your hand.

Swallowing hard, you blinked but a tear escaped and rolled down your temple.

“Hey, shhh, Nugget.”

You sniffled and looked up into those beautiful, truly concerned, blue eyes of his. “You’re so much better than I deserve, Henry.”

He sighed and his shattered heart tore away from your gaze. Rocking his hips further down between your legs, he wrapped both arms under the small of your back and rested his head on your chest. 

It was the first he’d ever put himself in that position unless... he was there to give your breasts some attention? Your nipples hardened at the thought of his hot mouth sucking. He must have seen, or felt your nipple pebbling so near to his lips, because he fisted the edge of the bed sheet and covered your exposed skin.

Uncertain what to do exactly, you laid quietly and listened to his deep breaths and slow heartbeat for a long time. It wasn’t until you heard his breathing pause and stutter that your stomach dropped. “Henry? What’s wrong?”

“I just don’t know what else to do. What other way can I say it so you’ll understand?” His stormy eyes were dark and cheeks flushing pink when he put his chin on your sternum and glanced up at you. “I’m a patient man but you sure are putting me through my paces, sweetheart.”

Panic started to tighten your chest. Hearing your heartbeat and breathing quicken, he pressed his palm over it and spread his thumb away from his fingers to kiss your skin hidden under it.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. This isn’t what I wanted.”

“What did you want?” You asked bracing yourself with a fistful of sheets in each hand, practically panting the words.

Bearing his teeth, he sat up and stroked your cheek with his calloused thumb. “I want you to not be afraid anymore. I want to take away all of that worry in that beautiful mind of yours.”

As he swept the pads of his fingers over your forehead and down your nose, you gave them a kiss when they passed over your lips.

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath, swallowing hard so his Adam’s apple bounced. Your brows lifted, confused, but before you could ask, he dropped onto his side and pulled you to him, sheets and all. Legs and arms tangled together, you touched foreheads and shared the same warm breath fanning over each other’s skin.

“Hen?”

“Mhmm.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, Nugget.”

“Hen?”

“Hmm.”

“I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. Even if it was only a minute. And in the middle of nowhere. I’d want that last minute with you. That’s home… with you. If that’s okay with you, I mean.”

You thought for a moment that the wide eyed expression he gave you was surprise, until a smile lifted his features so brightly, his canines appeared. His mouth pressed to yours, gently at first, but taking a breath, he tipped your head and closed his lips over your top one, causing you to whimper and give him your bottom lip next. As your kisses became more hungry by the second, your attention was drawn from his tongue flexing into your mouth to his hands at your back.

They were fumbling with something, although you couldn’t tell quite what. Reaching behind you curiously, he grasped your hand and pressed his thumb inside your palm. Instinctively, you closed your fingers around it as he returned your hand to your chest.

He flicked his tongue over his bottom lip and grinned. “Until I can get you a real diamond,” he panted breathlessly, lips reddened and slightly swollen.

Peering down inside your closed hand, you recognized the gold flash immediately. “Henry, darling, you can’t give me your signet ring!”

He scoffed, arching an eyebrow and collected your left hand, “’Course I can.”

Putting your entire ring finger in his mouth, he pulled off the artificial pearl you wore with his teeth and slid his ring on instead, making you giggle and wiggle your fingers.

“It’s a bit large,” you confessed, attempting to keep your fingers pressed tightly together. Turning your hand over, he let it drop into his palm and slid it onto your thumb instead.

“It’s only temporary,” he reminded you, lying back on the pillows and opening his arms so you could put your head on his chest. He let out a long, gruff sigh feeling your body settle down tucked in against him. Closing your eyes, you already felt your body starting to get heavy.

“You know,” he continued, gently raking his spread fingers through your hair, “I wanted to kiss you the first night we met.”

“That birthday party?” you cooed, nuzzling along his jawline. “That was almost ten years ago, Hen. I wonder where we’d be if you would have.”

“I imagine the exact same place. Only there’d be a couple more pairs of little feet running up and down the hall. What do you think, darling?”

You’d have absolutely agreed, and probably squealed at the thought, but you were already fast asleep by the time he finished his sentence. And it was the best sleep you’d had in months.

[hitsuackerman]

Build a Fortress (Hawks x Reader)

Prompt: Hawks randomly enters your apartment with two bags filled with vacuum sealed pillows and a strong intent to battle.

Contains: Fluff

It was rather peaceful in your apartment. The balcony doors were open letting the cold night wind enter. You were too engrossed in the show you were watching. With a tub of ice cream on one hand, you dip a slice of bread causing the surface to dent. Ice cream and bread were your guilty pleasures each time you would watch this particular show.

With eyes glued to the TV, you failed to notice the entry of your boss. The boss who was also known as Japan’s #2 Pro-Hero.

Your relationship with Hawks was… unique to say the least. You had begun working for him for about a year now and things were always a rollercoaster ride. It all started when you finally began to get comfortable around his presence. He managed to catch you off guard and flirt like the cheeky birdy he is.

To say that you were flustered would be an understatement. Anyone who didn’t find Hawks attractive would have to be low on IQ, cursed with poor eyesight, or just plain boring. At least that’s what you thought. Stuttering your response only caused him to advance even more. Of course, you liked it. You did, afterall, have a liking for him.

Keeping things professional with him was always a challenge. From back and forth flirting, to one day taking you out on a spontaneous flight at night, it was safe to say that your harbored feelings grew. Yet, you always managed to keep the line present. The thin line of him being a boss and you being his sidekick.

“C’mon Chicken nugget,” That’s what he’d always say. “You gotta try something new! Live on edge and enjoy life!”

How were you supposed to do that when the life you wanted to try was with him? Flirting always made you think that perhaps this would lead to something but that’s all you thought it was. Playful banter that would one day stop when he finds someone else.

When he found out that you were living on the 20th floor, he sent out a memo (but only to you, and you alone) that all employees who possess a balcony should keep it open. In case he would need something from them (or you, to be specific). His plan was all too successful knowing you strayed away from conversation with others. In fact, him being your boss was his lucky card to actually get closer to you.

Now that he was perched on your balcony, his eyes landed on the TV and the back of your head glued to the show he knew was your favorite. Welcoming himself in, he placed the two huge bags he had been carrying. Wanting to get you flustered, he literally jumped and flopped on to your couch. Mission accomplished.

“WHAT THE F-- HAWKS?!” You shrieked. Not at the sight of your boss being beside you. You had been expecting he’d be bound to flap his wings to your apartment. You were shocked at the thought of him seeing you in a loose shirt, messy bun, and the glorious tub of ice cream on hand.

“Hey Chikadee! Whatcha eatin?” His signature smirk caused your heart to flutter and your cheeks to burn. He loved seeing you like this. So calm and relaxed. Not a care in the world.

“What does it look like I’m eating?” You replied and placed the tub on the table. “But more importantly, what the hell are you doing here, Hawks? Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yes. There is actually.” His smirk faded. After knowing him for a year, you weren’t exactly sure if this were a joke or something serious. “I can only trust you for this job.”

His eyes seemed to scan around your apartment. Looking at the walls and any possible places for hidden cameras. Pulling his visor down, his eyes glued to yours. Almost like he was anticipating every move you were about to do.

“Let’s have a pillow fort battle!”

THIS OVERSIZED PIDGEON.

“Hawks... “ Your eyes met his. The way he smiled almost seemed as if he knew you were putty in his hands. “Are you here at this time of night, to build pillow fortresses?”

“Somethin’ wrong about wanting to make some late childhood memories with the person you like?” Hawks answered as he stood up and extended a hand towards you. Still wearing his hero costume, the lighting in your living room somehow showed the cuts of his body suit even more. Accepting his hand, he practically tugged you towards him. “That’s a good little birdie~”

“I don’t have enough pillows though…” You scanned and mentally counted just how many pillows your room had to offer. More or less, 30 pieces. Not enough to make a decent fort.

“Worry not, my little lovebird, for I have come prepared!" He was more than glad your space was enough for him to use his wings. Flying over to the huge bags, he handed you one. Inside were vacuum packed XL pillows. Perfect for building fortresses.

"You've been planning this for days, haven't you?" You asked as you counted and strategized your game plan. A small smile tugging the corner of your lips.

"You know me too well." He gave you a wink as he began to unload his sealed pillows.

Looking at your living room, it would be a little tight due to the sofa. Just one look at you and Hawks immediately knew what to do.

"How bout we set aside the sofa to create more space?" He offered. A bunch of his vermillion feathers floating around, waiting for the command. Given the go signal, the feathers went to work. While the sofa and other things were being moved, you took out 4 blankets. 2 for each of you.

Minutes later, the two of you began to build.

Hawks decided to discard his jacket and a few of his feathers. The look on your face priceless when he stuck them like darts on your wall. Still, the way he managed to shape them like a heart caused you to roll your eyes and taze him a bit using your quirk.

"Hey. No kinky stuff now, chicka!" He fought back by sending a bunch of small feathers to tickle your sides. Earning a laugh from you. "How bout we battle who has the sturdiest fort, ey?"

"Oh! I know the perfect accessory!" You clapped your hands as you stood up from your fort. Taking 2 pieces of paper, you formed each of you paper boat hats.

Seeing the way your eyes sparkled as you made your way towards him was more than enough for the winged hero. Standing up, he bowed his head a bit so you could easily crown him with the boat.

"I'll use my small feathers while you use your sparks, fair enough?" 

"Game on, Pidgy!"

Jogging back to your fortress, you began to prep your quirk. Small yellow sparks formed on your fingertips. Across the floor, small red feathers began floating.

It felt as if the whole room went silent. Seeing Hawks' eyes observing you like easy prey made your spine tingle. God, this bird man was beyond the definition of handsome.

Both of you did a small countdown and began the small fight.

Small red feathers and began littering your carpeted floors. Every so often, small sparks would light up the living room. The time came where one of your pillows exploded with a sneaky feather.

Wanting to get even, you sent a rather large spark to his front pillows. White feathers began to fall like snow on his small area. His competitive side emerged and sent some slightly larger feathers. Seeing his action, a rope of electric current went straight for him.

Both of you leaped forward and rolled towards the middle. Both attacks destroyed all pillows on each side. White feathers began falling through the air as the two of you laughed on the floor.

Just as you were about to stand, Hawks grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into a tight hug.

"And who said you could stand up?" Hawks whispered into your ear. "Stay with me like this. Even if only for a while."

Feeling you relax in his arms, he tangled his legs with yours. Laying on his chest, you could hear the sound of his steady heart beating. It was enough to lull you to sleep.

"(Y/N)."

"Hawks?"

"You know you can call me by my first name, right?"

If there was anything to grip on you would. But him in his body suit, the only thing you could do was to clench your fist and bite your lip. Once again, the thin line was starting to fade.

"Why are you like this, Keigo?" Your body was starting to tremble slightly. You felt his arms wrap around your body much tighter. "Why not go for other girls? Or models? Or Pro-Hero's?"

"What's wrong with you? I find you perfect."

"You're my boss."

Shifting his body to the side, he managed to let you use his arm as a pillow. Still, your legs tangled with his and his arm draped around your waist.

"I think we're both aware we crossed that lining months ago, chicken nugget." He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "But, I won't pressure you if you don't want to."

Staring at Hawks from this angle was new. It felt as if he were not Hawks but Keigo Takami and no one else. Seeing him like this felt as if you had just woken up from a dream and your dreams became a reality when his gorgeous yellow eyes looked at yours.

"What… What if I want you to be mine?" Your eyes broke the contact.

His rough hand cupped your cheek. Bringing you back softly into his sincere gaze.

"Then I'll say it if you want." He leaned forward and gave your lips a soft but lingering kiss. "I'm yours, my little lovebird."

Not able to hold it in, you wrapped an arm over his waist and you felt him sit the two of you up. Giving you the right angle to adjust and wrap your arms around his neck.

When you pulled away so slightly, your eyes drifted to his smirking lips.

"Can I… Can I kiss you?"

"Baby bird, you don't have to ask~"

With that he was the one who held your nape and softly pulled you in for another kiss. You kissed him and you kissed him more. And he felt like a little boy being given his Endeavor plushie. Pure unadulterated happiness at finally being able to kiss you back again and again.

By the time you two parted for air, you two were leaning on each other's foreheads. Staring at each other with half hooded eyes. Somehow, your sight drifted to the corner and saw how you still had one pillow standing.

"Looks like I won the battle, Hawks."

Your gasped as a red feather zapped thru the pillow causing it to explode.

"Not a chance, love. Not a chance."

To end the battle with his victory, he pulled you back into his arms and kissed you. Bringing you both to lay down on the floor, finally letting go of the thin line that had already disappeared the moment you flirted back months ago~

[okskz]

Midnight Walk.

Elsy + Young K

young k offers to take elsy home after seeing she doesn’t want to walk home at night on her own.

hope you guys enjoy this little post! please feel free to leave some feedback because it is always appreciated!

[8th Member of Got7]

Elsy turned on the music once more and began rehearsing the choreography all over again. Her and Mia’s debut was just around the corner and she was preparing herself as much as she could. And that meant late rehearsals for her.

“Hey!”

Elsy became startled, quickly stopping her movements as she turned around to face the door. Young K had barged in, standing at the doorway.

“Brian! You scared me!” Elsy said, placing her hand on her chest.

“Sorry.” He laughed at her frighten face, coming closer to her. “What are you doing here so late?”

“Well as you can see, I’m practicing the new choreography. You know, something you can’t relate to.” Elsy smirked. “No offense.”

“Offense taken. I’ll have you know I’m a great dancer even if I’m in a group that doesn’t dance.” Young k jokingly scoffed as he flicked Elsy on her arm. “I’m probably better than you.”

“Right.” Elsy laughed. “Now, what are you doing here?”

“Eh, just thought to walk around.”

“Walk around in the building?” Elsy questioned.

“Okay, I knew you were here so I decided to stop by. And maybe see the dance. You know, the song I helped you guys with.”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” Elsy hesitated while smiling. “No one has seen the choreography besides Mia and I.”

“Well then I guess it’s my lucky day today then.” He winked.

“Fine. But only a little snippet.”

Young K went ahead and made himself comfortable on the couch as Elsy stood in the middle of the dance room. With the remote, she turned the music on and put it to where it began playing the chorus of the song. Elsy only danced for about thirty seconds until she stopped and paused the music.

“And done.”

“No! I want to see more. That was great.” He clapped.

“Nope, that’s all you get, my friend.” Elsy smiled. “Thoughts?”

“Well alright.” Young K said, standing up. “And as for thoughts. I’ll say it was spectacular. Maybe I can add in some moves for you.”

Elsy was quick to shake her head no while laughing. “You know, that’s alright. No need to do that I think we got this. Leave it to us who actually dance.”

“I’m going to pretend I don’t hear you.” Young K chuckled while placing his fingers in his ears.

Elsy chuckled before pulling out her phone. It was getting pretty late now so she tried to call Jinyoung if he could walk her home but to her luck, he wasn’t answering. Bummed, Elsy pouted and tried calling him once more but still no answer. So she knew he was probably already asleep by now.

“Something wrong?”

“Yeah, Jinyoung isn’t answering his phone.” Elsy said. She even sent him a quick text. “Guess i have to walk home alone.”

She gathered up her things and began heading towards the door. Young K was quick to come up from behind her. He could tell Elsy for a fact did not want to walk alone especially this late at night. “Hey, I’ll walk you home. If you want, of course.”

Elsy bit her lip then smiled. “If it’s no trouble. I’d like that.”

“Of course it’s no trouble. Let’s get going.”

Elsy and Young K had entered Elsy’s apartment, setting down the McDonald’s bag they had gotten right after leaving the building. All that dancing had made Elsy quite hungry. And of course she offered some to Young K since he walked her home.

The two sat at Elsy’s dining table and began eating their food. “Nothing like a good midnight snack.”

“Midnight snack?” Young K chuckled. “Elsy, this is a meal.”

“Mmm, same thing.” She said, stuffing a chicken nugget in her mouth. “Also, thanks for walking me home. If you weren’t there I’d probably would have asked Jae to let me borrow his bed.”

Young K laughed out loud. “You know you’re always welcome at our dorms.”

“I’ll keep that in mind then.”

Young K smiled before reaching over and stealing a chicken nugget from Elsy and popping it in his mouth, smirking as he chewed on it.

“Brian!” Elsy whined. “That was my last one.” She looked over at his food, seeing he only had a couple of fries left so Elsy was quick to grab it.

“Hey!”

“That’s what you get.” Elsy grinned.

“You owe me now.” Young K joked.

Elsy scoffed. “More like you owe me.” She said.

Young K nodded. “You’re right, you’re right.” He smiled. “Next time we hang out, food is on me. We gotta hang before you get busy with your project with Mia.”

“Definitely.” Elsy smiled. “I’ll be wanting more chicken nuggets.”

[snowflake-of-destruction]

Art credit @shaky-mayhemm circa late April 2020

On the first day of Shaky, my true love got from me....ONE TRUE PAIRING

Dear Shaky,

This is the first piece of art you ever sent me. You asked me to write a caption, and I balked. I was flattered, but I was so intimidated when I saw that crown on Axel's chest. How could I ever write something for your Destiny Kingdom AU? It was your baby. I can't get it wrong. I can do anything else but not that. 

I...still worry about that, but I thought this was a nice full circle move. Thank you for your faith and your friendship. Happy birthday. I hope you enjoy it. Eleven more days to come.

I tried to link to posts of yours I referenced, so others could reference, but I probably missed some

How We Lie

It should have been the most beautiful sunset they'd ever witnessed. Thematically, it would have been satisfying. Their lives were melodrama, the setting was rude not to cooperate and leave them with a final perfect memory to hold onto when the light died completely. Instead, in nights ahead, Axel would be left with the image of a bead of melting ice cream slowly rolling down the side of the untouched bar Roxas held in slightly twitching hands that raced the fat tear carving a shining path that reflected the red-orange light down the duke's cheek. Axel longed to halt the progress of the latter with a swipe of a thumb, and rub it out of existence between glove clad fingers, but he knew that wouldn't take away the sadness that had caused it in the first place. Axel had that power too, technically, he supposed, though to change the course he had committed to now, might cause him to be the one to cry next, and Axel still was selfish enough to want to avoid that.

I can't lose you. I wouldn't survive it. Don't you see that? 

"You promised you wouldn't cry." A royal guard should have enough decorum not to call attention to the duke's lapse in stoicism when it was clear Roxas would not appreciate attention being brought to it. Then again, Axel and Roxas had never been typical guard and royal charge. The tear splashed on the stone of the palace roof just as the ice cream drip splattered onto the webbing between Roxas's thumb and forefinger. Now Axel longed to take Roxas's hand, bring it to his lips, suck away the salty-sweet cream while looking into those lapis eyes he loved so much, maybe take one or two of Roxas's fingers next, swirl his tongue around and up and down the length until his beloved showed he'd forgot his grief and allowed Axel to make up for any offense he caused in one of the only ways of communication he considered himself good at since words constantly failed him. 

"You promised you wouldn't leave," the duke countered, voice thick and warbling, and whether the cause was repressed anger or more oncoming tears and pleas to call his mission off, Axel knew it wouldn't be handled by simple distraction.

"It wouldn't be the first time we broke our promises, now would it?" Axel surprised himself with his own harshness as he gripped his own neglected sea salt ice cream more tightly, though the bitterness was largely aimed inward. He had broken far more promises to Roxas than the reverse had happened. So far he hadn't broken the most important. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe even at the cost of my own life. And he didn't plan on breaking it now. "But I can vow it's the last time I'll break a promise."

"Don't lie to me, not now," Roxas breathed, the sentence seeming to drain the last of his strength. His ice cream was losing its form more quickly now, balance tipped, keeping up its sympathy with the duke about to unravel.  

"I'm not." The words were said firmly, but Axel didn't dare look at Roxas. 

How could he not understand? He grew weaker by the day and Axel was the one in pain. Naminé said she was doing the best she could, but it wasn't good enough. Whatever she was doing didn't even seem to be helping, and Axel had his doubts the witch was even trying. He'd told Kairi, who was going to be filling in for him as Roxas's guard while he was away, to keep a close eye on her. Kairi had assured him that she knew how to deal with Naminé, a hardness in her eye so chilling--though not out of character--that Axel knew he'd selected the right musketeer. 

"Bind the vow with magic." Wisps of darkness escaped Roxas's mouth, but Axel's mind would have explained it away even if he'd been looking. He was acutely attuned to Roxas's fatigue, the way his ribs had started to jut out, the way he winced at bright light, and other distressing signs of the strain that had been placed on him since Chernabog had begun to call for him, but the guard refused to see the darkness in his love. 

"Do you need that?" Axel wouldn't judge if he did. Anything for Roxas. He could hardly remember the day when he had seen being assigned to what he'd called the dumb nugget foundlings when King Mickey had welcomed them into the palace. For as long as had mattered, Axel had viewed that just as Prince Sora had been said to have been formed from clouds, Roxas must have been formed from the blood of Axel's veins, wished into existence from the dreams of his mind, born to love and be loved by him. No sentiment so poetic-and so cloyingly sentimental-- had ever been voiced by Axel though. They fell apart when he tried to make them take form. It's what he meant when he said Ba, you're the best though, and he thought they both knew it. Maybe he should make sure before he left though, if he could and it wouldn't sound too much like I'm sorry I won't be back. I'm sorry that this will end the same as when Riku left. I'm sorry that I can't think of anything more practical than let's send the best warriors in the kingdom throwing themselves one at a time on fate's knife. I can't think straight at all when it comes to you. I should have stepped down long ago when I became so compromised, but we'd be in the same place now. I need to go. If there's even a chance at a solution, I have to try and find it. I can't wait. I can't stay and hold you through the worst because I need it to get better now.

"No." Roxas didn't sound sure, or at least he didn't sound happy.

When Axel said he would break no more promises, it was the truth, not even just in intention, but raw fated truth. No more promises would be broken. There would be no more opportunity.

"I'll come back safe."

It was a lie. They both knew it. It was easy to lie until the lies racked up.

I'll take every precaution even if it slows me down.

I'll take soldiers with me, or recruit hired blades in the next town at least if I think Goofy wouldn't be able to spare men.

I'll turn back if my search takes me into a threat I know I can't handle on my own.

I won't try to take on Chernabog by myself.

One day, I'm going to be the third keyblade master in history to survive using Serenity form.

I'll come home

Everything will be alright.

Stories like ours have happy endings.

The sun disappeared over the horizon more quickly than either Roxas or Axel expected. The red light didn't linger. Red had a long way to travel and it couldn't delay today.

[hopelikethemoon]

the three of us (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: the three of us Rating: PG-13 Length: Warnings: discussions of pregnancy planning, angst, heartache Notes: this chapter made my heart hurt. Set in 1996. You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here. Summary: Javier and Reader have not had the success they hoped for. 

Taglist:  @grapemama​​​​  @seawhisperer​​​​ @huliabitch​​​​ @pedropascalito​​​​ @rogrsnbarnes​​​​@thewallpapergoesorido​​​​ @twomoonstwosuns​​​​ @gooddaykate​​​​ @livasaurasrex​​ @ham4arrow​​​@hiscyarika​​​​ @plexflexico​​​​ @readsalot73​​​​ @hdlynn​​​​ @lokiaddicted​​​ @randomness501​​​@fioccodineveautunnale​​​​​ @roxypeanut​​​ @just-add-butter​​​ @snivellusim​​

Maybe Josie had been a fluke. 

Your doctor had given you a full bill of health — both times you visited the doctor. There was no reason for why nothing had taken hold. Five months. Four negative tests. Four periods. Even Javier had visited the doctor, just to make sure his swimmers were in working order. They were. Everything was right and yet…

You swallowed thickly as you pushed the bathroom door open, eyes lowered to the floor as you shook your head. Another unsuccessful month had slipped by. 

“C’mere.” Javier murmured, holding his hand out and gesturing for you to join him at the foot of the bed. “It’ll happen.” He reassured you. 

“Yeah.” You almost wished you hadn’t decided you were ready to try. To actually plan on having another kid. 

Javier curled his arm around your waist, drawing you into his side. “It’s okay baby.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“I just thought that this time…” You shifted, laying back on the bed and bringing him down with you. You stared up at the ceiling, brows furrowed. “I was two days late and I was certain.”

“I know.” He slid his arm out from under you, rolling onto his side. You could feel his eyes on your face, “Hey.”

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eyes. “Hmm?”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It’s neither of our faults.” You said a little quickly. You were both healthy, but you were the one that wasn’t pregnant. You had been so certain this time around. For a fleeting few days you had felt different. Maybe you had been, maybe it ended before it even began.

“We’ll just keep trying.” Javier draped his arm over your middle, giving your waist a reassuring squeeze. “If you want to.”

“I do.” You sighed heavily. “I just didn’t realize how hard it was going to be.” Your eyes drifted back up to the ceiling. Josie had been easy — one night was all it took to give life to a beautiful baby girl. Sure, it had been sheer hell, but she had been easy. 

This time, you were actually trying and nothing was working. 

“I’ll go back over the calendars the doctor gave us. Maybe we’re off by a day.” You scrubbed your hands over your face, before you looked at him. “I’m sorry.”

“Baby, you haven’t got a damn thing to apologize for.” He cupped her cheek, rubbing his thumb over the rise of your cheekbone. “And as much as it pains me to leave you right now…”

“Get to work, Professor.” You teased, trying to put on the emotions you would rather be feeling. You were depressed. But you didn’t want to ruin his first day back in the job force. 

“I am just a teacher.” Javier countered, “And it’s just orientation.”

You curled your fingers around his tie, pulling him in closer so you could kiss him. “But Professor sounds sexy.”

Javier bumped his nose against yours. “I love you.” He whispered, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “Are you going in today?”

You pursed your lips thoughtfully. “Probably. It would be a nice distraction.” You forced yourself to smile. You needed the distraction, otherwise you’d spend the day in sweatpants with a bottle of wine trying to forget your inadequacies. 

“I’ll pick up dinner on the way home so you won’t have to worry.” Javier told you as he pulled back, straightening his tie. “Pizza?”

“Sounds nice.” You nodded, peeling yourself off the bed. “Good luck today, Javi.”

“Thanks baby.” He murmured and you could feel his eyes on you as you moved around the bed room to get ready for work. You knew he was hurting too — maybe not the same way as you were. But he wanted this baby as badly as you did. Each month that slipped by killed you. At one point in your life you had prayed for a negative test, but now it was all you saw.  

——

Your 1 PM meeting took you by surprise. Not the meeting itself; but the person leaving the meeting ahead of yours. 

“Lance Collier.” You remarked, stopping dead in your tracks. “What are you doing here.”

He held his hand out to shake yours, “Working with the local law enforcement on a case. How the hell have you been?”

“I actually have a meeting.” You glanced at your wristwatch. “It’ll be about forty five minutes.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Great.” Lance nodded. “Hope they don’t bore you to death.” 

“Chances are slim.” You quipped, before you headed into the conference room. He certainly was a welcome distraction from the thoughts weighing on your mind. And one of the last people you expected to see from your time in Colombia. Second maybe only to Chris. 

 ——

It was surreal to have Lance Collier standing in your little office with an obscured view of Dodge Island. The last time you had seen him was the night you broke up with him and promised to call him in a week or two. You hadn’t. 

“Niece?” Lance questioned, nodding to a picture of Josie you had framed on your desk. 

“Daughter.”

His brows shot upwards, “Wow. When did that happen?” You couldn’t exactly blame him for being surprised. He’d actually mentioned having kids with you when you dated and you had been pretty against the idea. You had a whole career you were building. 

“She was born in ‘93.” 

“And who’s the lucky father?”

You arched a brow, “Would you believe me if I told you I’m with Javier.” You turned one of the pictures on your desk towards him — a family shot Connie had taken for you in their backyard at Easter. Josie was clutching a stuffed rabbit, nestled in between you and Javier. 

Lance’s jaw dropped. “Peña? What the hell did I miss after I left Colombia? I figured you must’ve moved on — you never called.”

You grimaced. “It didn’t feel fair to string you along, Lance. It’s not like I moved on to Javi right after we broke up. Far from it, actually. I just wasn’t—“

“There’s no hard feelings.” Lance cut you off. “I’m getting married next month.”

“Oh, wow! Congratulations.” You smiled at him. ”So what has the CIA poking around here?”

“Clearing up soon loose ends from Medellín. We received intel that La Oficina de Envigado was laundering money out of Miami. Due diligence, really.” He lowered his voice, pointing at Josie’s pictures. “Is she why you’re persona non grata with DEA? I was down at the embassy a year ago and—“ He whistled as he shook his head. “They’re not fond of you.” 

You shrugged a shoulder. “Javi and I lied about our relationship for a year. I was already on thin ice for being pregnant and…” You made a face. “Straw that broke the camel’s back.”

“Jeeze, I’m sorry.” He gestured around the office. “But check this place out.”

You laughed. “Yeah, who knew Miami had the budget to give consultants offices with windows?”

Lance shook his head, staring at the family picture on your desk. “I can’t say I’m surprised, but… I just can’t picture Peña as a father.”

“He’s amazing.” You told him, your eyes drawn to the picture. “Josie is a complete daddy’s girl.” You glanced back at Lance then, “What do you mean you’re not surprised?”

He gave you a look. “Do you remember the first time you brought me along to drinks with him and Steve?” You nodded. “I realized pretty quickly that night that he was my competition.” 

“Really?” Your brows furrowed together. “I just remember him being a dick that night.” Then again, he always got pissy whenever Lance turned up with you. 

He was going to lose his shit knowing that Lance was in town. 

“I’m glad you’re happy.” Lance told you with a genuine smile. “That’s all I wanted for you.” 

“Thank you.” You sank back in your seat, “I mean, look at us. You’re getting married next month and I’ve got a family.” 

“With Javier Peña no less.” 

A laugh bubbled out of you, “Right? I’m still waiting for the pigs to fly.” 

“Any wedding bells in your future?”

“Not our thing.” You shook your head, “But we’re good. He’s started teaching a criminal justice course at the university. I’ve got this.” You gestured to your office. “Life is good. Miami was the right move for us.” 

Lance pursed his lips and nodded in agreement. “You deserve it.” He glanced towards your office door, “I should probably get going. I’ve got a deposition to sit in on later.” 

“It was good to see you Lance.” You offered with a warm smile, watching him leave. Once upon a time you probably would’ve settled for him. But there was nothing about Lance that made your heart skip a beat — even back then. That would’ve been an easy path. Everything with Javier had been difficult. It still was difficult. 

But all that difficulty made the quiet moments worth it. The uphill battle was justified every time Josie roped Javier into wearing a princess crown and attending tea at her make believe restaurant. 

You couldn’t imagine a life where you didn’t have both of them. And maybe it was okay that you weren’t having any luck. Maybe it was meant to be just the three of you.  

———

“I don’t know why we bother trying to expand her dietary options,” You remarked as you picked a piece of cut up pizza off her abandoned plate as you took it to the trash to throw away. “She’s always going to just want chicken nuggets.” 

“In futile hope that she’ll kick her chicken addiction.” Javier remarked from the living room, where he was fastforwarding through the trailers on the VHS he’d rented. Four Weddings and a Funeral seemed like the right kind of movie to unwind to. 

You grabbed two beers out of the fridge, gripping them in one hand as you snatched up the pizza box off the counter and headed into the living room to join him. “I wish it were that easy. I think she’s hooked, Javi. Our baby’s a chicken addict.”

Javier looked back at you over his shoulder, a grin spreading over his lips. “Guess there’s worse things she could be hooked on.” He settled down onto the sofa, loosening his tie. “I’ve got a full class. I guess everyone wants to meet the guy who helped bring down Pablo Escobar.” He swept his fingers through his hair, before taking a beer from you.

“They’re going to love you.” You said as you took a swig of beer before sitting it down on the coffee table. “You’ll never guess who I saw today.” 

“Who?” His brows drew together. 

“Lance.”

Javier huffed, “Really?”

You nodded, leaning back on the sofa. “He’s still chasing down money launders from Escobar’s predecessors.” You explained. “Still a CIA suit.”

Javier gave you a wary look, before he leaned forward to grab a slice of pizza. “That’s good.” He said before taking a bite.

You chewed on the inside of your bottom lip, heart pounding a little quicker as you stared at him. “Are you going to be an asshole about this?”

“No.”

“Our entire conversation basically revolved around you.” You told him, lips drawn into a faint smile. “It was a nice distraction from everything else.”

Javier grabbed the remote and paused the movie. “I’m not going to be an asshole about this, but I just never liked the guy.”

“I know.” You reached out and stroked his cheek, before sliding your fingers into his hair. “He wasn’t surprised that I was with you.”

His jaw rocked tensely before he relaxed under your touch. “What? Did he tell you about the time I pulled him aside and told him he better take care of you?” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth.

You shook your head and tilted your face to look up at him. “When did you—“

“You had just started seeing him.”

“Well, that explains everything.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest. You could easily picture Javier pulling that shit. He had been in fine form that evening from the second that Lance sat down at the table. It was a miracle it hadn’t run the poor man off then and there. You had a sneaking suspicion that he had said a lot more than just ‘take care of her’. Everything had been so new back then — Colombia, Javier and Steve, your outlook on the future. Maybe things didn’t turn out how you had planned, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

Javier gave your shoulder three little squeezes, pulling you in close to his side. “Is he going to be around for awhile?” He questioned as he picked up the remote with his free hand, loosely holding onto it.

“I didn’t ask, but probably not.” You reached out and took the remote out of his hand, sitting it aside. “We should talk about this morning. 

He exhaled heavily, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “I’d planned for us to talk about everything but that.” 

A nervous laugh escaped you as you interlaced your fingers with his. “I know.” You swallowed thickly. “It’s not bad… it’s just—” You squeezed his hand tightly. “I think we should try for another month and then I think it’s time to accept that it’s just the three of us.” 

Javier lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to it. “The three of us are perfect, baby.” 

“Yeah.” You whispered, sinking into his side feeling defeated. You wished you could make it happen. That tomorrow you’d magically wake up pregnant. The thought of both of you being able to enjoy this from the start seemed like a vain wish now. “Are you excited to start teaching?”

He rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand, “I met a couple of the students this afternoon and they seem keen. We’ll see.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “They even gave me an office with a window.”

“We both ended up with windows,” You mused.

Javier chuckled. “I wanna bring you and Josie by later this week so you can see it.” 

“That reminds me.” You squeezed his hand before you got up off the sofa. You headed down the hallway to the bedroom to get the gift you’d wrapped and hidden on your side of the closet. You returned, holding it out to him. “I meant to give this to you this morning, but…”

Javier took the parcel from you, unwrapping it slowly. “Baby, you shouldn’t have.” 

You had taken the negatives of the photos from Colombia and had duplicates made to be framed. Four photos that captured so many memories from that era of your lives. Josie resting on Javier’s chest, both of them fast asleep a few days after you had brought her home; you and Javier kissing, a slightly blurry photo you’d relied on the timer for; Josie’s first bath; and a photo of the three of you when Josie was still so tiny. 

“I thought you might like taking us to work with you.” You smiled at him as you settled down onto the sofa beside him. 

“Maybe we should stop now.” Javier suggested as he looked up at you. “I hate how much this is stressing you out, baby.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, “Maybe we can just try to see if it’ll happen naturally.” You still weren’t ready to call it quits. Not entirely. 

He nodded his head, staring down at the frame. “We’re good as three, aren’t we?” 

“We are.” You leaned into his side. Part of you regretted that you had started this whole endeavor. You had thought it would be easy, free of heartache. But you had been wrong. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was the planning and the stress that was causing it to fail. 

[karajaynetoday]

ours, for the rest of forever | ashton irwin

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

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

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

(This is a fem reader insert)

Word count: 3.3k words

Warnings: none

More writing here | send feedback/thoughts/suggestions here

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More writing here | send feedback/thoughts/suggestions here

[boymeetsweevil]

And then there were two

Grouping: Reader x College BF!Mark (NCT)

Word Count: ~3.48k

Warnings/Themes: non-graphic first time, too many friends with too little boundaries

Prompt: “what do u think abt college bf mark and awkward and fumbling first time”

The dorm is suspiciously quiet when Mark enters. There’s no sound of the XBox going, no sound of raucous laughter, no sound of beer bottles clinking. It’s almost as if you’re alone in your dorm. Odd.

“Mark?” You call from the common area shared by you and your suitemates. “Is that you?”

“Yeah.”

He finds you curled up on the couch, biting at your nails with your computer at your lap.

“Hey. Did you get your test results back yet?”

“I mean, the portal is open. I just haven’t checked it yet.” A sigh ghosts past your lips. “I don’t know if I passed this one. And if I don’t pass, I’ll have to retake the class later.”

“Want me to open it for you?”

“Please.”

Mark makes his way over, arms behind his back as he hides the treasure he brought with him. Once he’s seated you slide your laptop over to him like you can’t get it away fast enough and push yourself back until you’re at the opposite end of the couch. Your toes are the closest thing to him and you wedge them under his thigh while he types in your password from memory.

“Class average was a...64. Yikes,” he reads off that stats from the exam’s page.

“Yeah. It was a doozy.”

“Okay, let’s see. Woah, you got an 83.”

“What,” you shout.

“Nerd.”

Your eyes grow wide and you lunge forward to yank the computer away, hoping that he’s not messing with you. Mark laughs, nose scrunching at you as you take in the actual 83 on your exam’s results screen. The hoarse little shriek you let out is so cute that his heart aches a bit.

“The prof said she was adding a curve for this one. 6 points, she said.”

“Congrats, baby—oof!” 

Mark’s back hits the arm of the couch with a thud, taking the brunt of the force from your tackle. It’s a bit awkward but you still manage to get your limbs around him and squeeze. A breathy chuckle floats up from where you bury your face in his neck.

“I was so nervous. I hate Orgo so much.”

“I know, but you work so hard. How could you not do well?”

“Thanks,” you say once you pull back. Your eyes are velvet soft with relief and fondness as you look him over. 

You press a soft kiss to his lips and Mark presses back for a moment before pulling back with a jerk. Somehow you’ve ended up in the splayed V of his knees as a pleasant weight in his lap. Not an often occurrence.

“I, uh, I might have brought you something,” he mumbles against the skin of your cheek when you kiss the hinge of his jaw. His eyes and voice go gravelly and dark at your proximity.

“What is it?” You sit back on your heels with a staccato bounce. 

“Chicken Haus.”

From the side of the couch he brandishes a large paper bag with a familiar crowing chicken logo printed on the brown surface. The thin paper barrier does nothing to keep the smell from wafting over to you.

“Oh, did you get fries? Let me see!”

“Ah, ah!” He moves the bag out of your reach, causing you to stumble forward. Your glare down at him but all he does is cackle in response. “Say please,” he sing-songs.

“Dude, come on. This isn’t kindergarten!”

“So, I’m ‘dude’ now?” He sniffs and moves to put the chicken back. “Alright, I see how it is.”

“Mark—Mark, wait! Mark, my man. My super capable, handsome man. Please. Let me see the chicken.”

“Nice,” he hands you the bag, trying his hardest not to be flustered by your performance.

There’s a small mountain of your favorites in the bag and you do a little dance before hopping off the couch and making a beeline to the small communal kitchenette.

“Did you eat dinner already?”

“Yeah, I had some stuff at the studio.” 

You turn to give him a little disappointed pout. “Still, come sit with me!”

Mark ambles over with a pleased smile on his face. As you look for napkins he admires the straight way you hold your back. The university is notorious for its cutthroat biology major but you’re not the competitive type. So exam weeks are especially hard on you. You always end up stressed and shrunken in on yourself and Mark hates to see it. Few things cheer you back up right away. One of them is the atomic spicy nuggets from Chicken Haus.

“Should we eat in your room,” Mark asks. Your mutual friend Jungwoo, who introduced you and Mark, usually has virtual tutoring at this hour. Mark always feels bad for interrupting him, but normally you’d share some of your congratulatory nuggets with him.

“We don’t have to this time. Jungwoo went home for his mom’s graduation and Doyoung’s at a public health conference.”

“Oh. They didn’t tell me that.”

“Mark,” you let out an incredulous laugh when you finally open the box. “I think you got too many nuggets this time.”

Mark looks down at the party-sized box he handed over a hefty portion of this week’s paycheck for. He supposes it’s a lot for two people to eat, but the dorm is usually overflowing with friends. Tonight he bought a lot out of habit and none of the people he expected to be over are actually present.

“Shit. Are none of the guys coming over?”

“Mm, I don’t know. What’s Johnny up to?”

Mark wracks his brain for his friends’ whereabouts. “Uhh, I think I remember him saying he was gonna go visit his girlfriend at her school. So, I guess he’s not coming. 

“Okay,” you sit at one of the stools. “And Taeil and Haechan?”

“Probably, like, playing Fortnite or something.”

“I know Taeyong said he had some work he had to do for his design class, so he’s definitely not coming.” You bite down into a nugget finally and let out a soft moan. “This never gets old.”

Suddenly Mark is hungry again. When he grabs a napkin and a plate you give a gloating smirk.

“I think Yuta’s probably just asleep,” you say after you’ve finished moaning around another chicken nugget.

“That just leaves Jaehyun, I think.”

“I mean, I can text him and invite him over if you want me to.”

Before you can reach for your phone, Mark’s free hand covers yours. You can’t help but laugh a little. Jaehyun and Mark may be good friends, but you know Mark is still a little wary since Jaehyun tried to hit on you the first night you met everyone. There’s no hard feelings, though. According to Mark.

“N-no, you don’t have to. He’s probably just enjoying the night in. Let’s...leave him be.”

“Okay,” you grin and take another bite.

After you finish eating, you make the decision to migrate back to the couch to check out some of the stuff on your DVR. Doyoung has dominated most of the drive space but there’s some shows that you know Mark likes. You tape them on the off chance that he comes over and no one else has something else they want to watch instead.

“Should we watch that zombie series,” Mark asks as he scrolls through the listings.

“I hate their graphics.”

“I know,” he snorts. “But it’s funny how mad you get at their fake blood. Might be fun to watch.”

“If you really wanna watch you can, but I’m not looking. I’m just gonna make myself comfy here, instead.”

You say all this as you proceed to stretch yourself over Mark’s already lounging form. You slot yourself between his thighs before hitching a leg up over his hip. Your head is pillowed by his shoulder and you cage him in with your arms.

“We don’t have to watch it. It’s more fun to watch with Yuta anyway. He always screams so loud, like, I swear he has a 4 octave range sometimes.”

“You’re such a music major,” you wrinkle your nose before peeking up. “Can I hear that project you’ve been working on in the studio?”

Mark’s cheeks flush under the blue light cast by the TV screen. He doesn’t say anything at first, but he does nod. You get up just long enough for him to grab his phone and the pair of over-the-ear headphones he always carries with him.

He takes care to brush your hair out of the way and slip the headphones onto your head gently. He sneaks in a pinch of your cheeks while you wait for him to cue up the song and laughs at the way your eyes crinkle in light annoyance.

The song begins and he alternates between gnawing at his bottom lip and watching your expression unblinkingly. Mark is actually doing super well in his Music Production 401 class and his professor is trying to get him to do an independent study next term. But he’s a perfectionist when it comes to his music. The song’s not finished even though he and Taeyong have been working on it nonstop for the last week and a half.

After a few minutes, you slide the headphones off. 

“I like it,” you whisper. “I wish I could tell you something more helpful but I don’t know anything about making music.”

“No, no. Honestly, that’s enough. I feel like you always tell me when you don’t really like what we have, so this is—good.”

“What are you gonna call it?” You grab his free hand and Mark darts his head around to survey the room. 

“Tae wants to call it something like “welcome to my playground”. We have to run the name by the other guys in the project. But Professor Seo thinks we should put it online once it’s done.”

“Promise you won’t forget about me when you blow up on SoundCloud.”

Mark tosses his head back and laughs at your teasing, before reaching out for revenge. He grabs at your waist and pulls you down so he can dig his fingers into your sides, knowing exactly where to go so he can torture you.

You let out a gasp and try your hardest to protect your sensitive underarms and the sides of your ribs from him, but it’s too late. Frenzied laughs pour from your mouth and you fight to stay upright. It’s a fight that you lose but not without bringing Mark down with you.

The two of you topple over the edge of the couch in a heap of throw pillows and decorative blankets. You fall first and brace yourself for the impact of Mark’s body. It’s not as painful as you thought it would be and when you crack an eye open you realize it’s because he managed to prop himself up at the last second.

Mark laughs again, but this time it’s small and breathless as he takes in the sight of you underneath him. He yanks himself up so at least his upper half is upright and he looks around again.

“Why are you acting so suspicious? You’ve been acting like you have a dirty secret all night.” You sit up too then, pulling your knees to yourself.

“Ah, really? I dunno.”

But he does know. 

Mark is a man of many good traits. He’d like to think, based on what others have told him, that he’s reliable. Hardworking, nice. Maybe even a little handsome if he listens to his mom. But most of all he is incredibly patient.

The last 2 months that you have been dating have consisted of being cockblocked at every turn. And the same thing happened when he was trying to find a good moment to confess to you after realizing that he liked you. Because he and you shared too many friends. Well-meaning but stupid friends.

“I mean—like, I guess I just got so used to us being interrupted by the guys that it’s a habit. Sorry.”

“We’re alone now, though.”

“Ha, right,” he tugs on the collar of his hoodie. “Yeah.”

“So...do you still want to watch the DVR on the couch?”

“Uh, we don’t have to. We could do something else.”

“What do you want to do,” you ask as your fingers crawl up his torso. With a gentle press to his hoodie-clad chest, Mark‘s back hits the seat of the couch. 

“Wuh—we could listen to the new SuperK album.” 

You shake your head and slink into his lap. You fiddle with the zipper on the front of his hoodie, enjoying the way he fails to keep his cool in the moment.

He looks up at you then, eyes round. “We could... watch that movie Cloud Break. It’s supposed to be really romantic—”

You shake your head again and lean in. “Saw it ages ago,” you murmur against the skin of his neck.

He huffs out a laugh, partly because of the tickle from your lips planting light kisses on his throat and partly because your answer is ridiculous.

“It premiered in theaters two days ago, dude.”

“I have connections,” is all you say before switching to kisses on the corner of his mouth.

Rarely do moments like this ever arise. With your friend group, someone is always in your dorm, or in Mark’s, or texting one of you to let you know you’ll be interrupted soon. One too many traumatic occasions where he didn’t heed the warning taught Mark to be hypervigilant of how he interacted with you. 

Honestly, he’s not even sure what to do first now. You’ve already unzipped his hoodie to splay your palms over his chest. He’s certain you can feel the fluttering dance his heart is doing under your hands. His own palms itch with inactivity. But laying them on the bare skin of your waist under the fabric of your shirt feels a bit like a balm against his clammy skin.

It’s like a switch is flipped. Like you’ve both realized how long you’ve been waiting for this moment. Suddenly everything is wandering hands and soft gasps. Time behaves funny in the privacy of the little universe being created on the floor by the couch. First it’s the quick, rough pass of your shirt over your head, getting tangled along overeager elbows along the way. Then it’s the slow and gentle brush of Mark’s knuckles against the skin of your abdomen as he attempts to unbutton your pants with shaking hands. You ask him if he’s scared while thumbing at the plush swell of his lips which are pursed in concentration. He tells you he’s just excited with an equally-shaky chuckle.

That’s what you love about Mark. Probably one of the things everyone loves about Mark. He’s thorough, admirably so. Just like he took his time with his confession,!l and his time with your jeans, he takes time appraising every inch of exposed skin. Some moments are moments of familiarity and he nips at the skin like it’s an old greeting. Some moments are moments of discovery, for both of you. He’s gentler then, drawing a new version of you out from yourself in the form of drawn out gasps or curses.

Many are moments of reciprocity. There are times when you hope his touch leaves fingerprints behind, something that you can keep long after your sweat has dried. And every touch he gives is matched with one you return. The feel of your palm on him, over him, around him draws his muscles taut. When you finally slot together, of course it’s like two puzzle pieces. It’s just right and the breath Mark releases then is almost like a sigh of relief. 

Often relief is a quiet, calm thing. Not always, certainly not now. You and Mark chase this relief panting and sometimes clawing at one another. He’s jerky as he moves over you. With arms shaking on either side of his head and this jaw grit tight, he tries his best to make it to the end with you. The way you moan and lock your thighs around him to pull him closer and deeper are the things that push him off the edge. He spills into you with a choked off groan that tapers off when he pulls away finally.

He’s exhausted, but still attentive in his aftermath. Mark whispers sweet nothings into your ear as he beckons you closer to your own orgasm with his hand. The feeling of working over you through the slick of his cum awakens something in the corners of his mind, but he puts that back. For another day, he reasons. Another one of those rare days when he can get you alone. Next time he won’t hesitate.

“You feel good,” he nuzzles the tip of his nose by the base of your ear.

Your breath hitches wetly and you reach down to grip his still twisting wrist. The touch grounds you only slightly because he changes the angle and suddenly you’re floating towards white light once more. Mark watches your hips raise in little broken motions to reach your own high.

Immediately, you pull him back in. He’s confident in the way he follows this time. He swoops in over you, kissing you like the sex had merely whetted his appetite.

“Is there still chicken?”

The sound of Jungwoo’s voice drives you two apart so fast your joints crack. You shriek and pull the closest piece of clothing you can find over your lap and torso. It just so happens to be Mark’s sweatpants, leaving him defenseless and bare.

Jungwoo pokes his head out from behind his bedroom door, headphones hanging around his neck with music oozing softly from the ears. Whatever he sees must be appropriate enough, because he nods to himself then and strolls toward the kitchen. The leftover Chicken Haus sits neatly packaged away thanks to Mark’s previous care.

“Bro, what the hell,” Mark whines from behind the safety of the couch. Just his head peeks over the cushions, making him look tiny. Like a tiger cub woken prematurely. Jungwoo laughs.

“I thought you said you bought enough to share. There’s no way you guys were gonna finish all this on your own.”

“That’s not—” Mark sighs, “That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what?”

���We’re kind of doing something here.” He jerks his chin down to where you’re hidden from view still. Neither of them can see your grimace. 

“Oh, yeah, we know.”

“We?” 

Your head and naked shoulders pop up then. Mark shifts his arm subtly in front you to preserve what’s left of your modesty. It doesn’t do much.

“Yeah, me and the others were in my room. We heard you did good on the test from our friend Lucas—you know the one who TAs for orgo? We were gonna surprise you, so we all got here early.”

“How early,” Mark’s voice is steady, eerily so. 

Jungwoo picks up another nugget and chews thoughtfully while he picks the right things to say. Johnny is the one who is known for being scary when angry, but Mark’s silent fury is frightening in its own right. A tiger cub is still a tiger, after all.

“Early,” he finally says.

“Fuck,” Mark covers his eyes with his hands. His cheeks bloom over rapidly. “Are you kidding me? Like for real?”

“Jungwoo,” Taeyong’s stage whisper cuts through the outburst. “Are they done yet?”

“You think he’s just standing out there talking to himself while they’re still doing it,” Doyoung’s voice enters next.

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t stop to watch a little on the way back,” Yuta scoffs.

“Guys, stop, this is so weird. That’s Mark we’re talking about.” The sound of Johnny’s internal crisis is almost as loud as his distressed non-whisper.

Jungwoo snorts before piling a plate high with more chicken. “You sound like such a mom, John.”

“Hey, wait is there still chicken?” Taeil’s sleepy voice is followed by Haechan giving an affirmative.

The guys stream out of Jungwoo’s tiny suite like a swarm of ants making a line towards the kitchen. Some of them hop onto the counter while Doyoung distributes plates. Others grab up the remaining stools and continue to discuss Mark’s new lack of virginity while serving up fries and nuggets. None of them seem to be concerned about yours or Mark’s presence with their backs turned towards you.

As the others continue to bicker amongst themselves, you turn to Mark. With a knowing look, he gestures for you to pass him his sweats. In silence, you both dress yourselves before making a break to your room. You enter first, diving head first into your bed out of mortification. Mark makes sure to close the door as soundlessly as possible before turning to you.

“We need new friends,” the two of you say in unison.

[theladyofdeath]

Alone in the Ashes {2}

A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click >  Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: And so it begins.

Comment to tell me what you think, or to be tagged! x

“When you spend so long trapped in darkness, Lucien, you find that the darkness begins to stare back.” ― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“I’m so sorry, you poor bastard,” Feyre breathed, after learning that Cassian now lived across the hall from her eldest sister. 

He chuckled, drinking from his glass. “She doesn’t seem that bad. That guy of hers seems like a real prick, though.”

Feyre snorted. “Don’t get me started.”

Cassian opened his mouth to speak but Rhysand leaned over. “No, seriously, don’t get her started.”

Feyre nudged him in the shoulder, causing him to laugh. “Anyway, where’s Azriel? He said he’d be here by now.” 

“Had to go get Mila,” Cassian said, finishing off his glass. “Unexpectedly. Just texted about a half hour ago. There was an incident, apparently. The police called this time.”

Feyre nodded, understandingly. It wasn’t the first time Azriel’s plans had changed last minute, but when he was called on, he always went to get Mila. 

Rhysand waved the bartender over, calling for another beer. “Karaoke night. Added you to the list, Feyre.”

Feyre froze. “Uh, no. I’m not going up there. Not after last time.”

Cassian grinned as Rhysand said, “I thought you gave a beautiful rendition of Like a Virgin.” 

“Fuck you,” she murmured, and cursed herself for smiling.

A live band played in the corner, the lead singer getting far too into it. He’d taken his shirt off and given it to a drunk girl cheering him on about thirty minutes before, and after that, Feyre just hadn’t been able to take him seriously. 

“Alright, I’ve had enough sadness,” Feyre said, hopping off her bar stool and handing her tall glass to Rhysand. “Come on, Cass. We’re going to dance.”

Cassian groaned, but it was all for show, because the moment he was on the dance floor, he had his arms around Feyre’s waist and he was swinging her around. 

“You should ask Rhys!” Cassian yelled into her ear above the music. “He’s a better dancer than me!”

“But this is how I get all the ladies to notice you!” Feyre yelled back, grinning from ear to ear. 

Cassian laughed, and spun her in a circle. 

Feyre loved to dance. She didn’t do it often, only when she went out with the boys. She used to dance with Mor, but she was always busy with school, lately, since she decided to further her education. She wanted to be a doctor. How selfish. 

She had called her on the way to the bar, with Rhysand in the car with her, behind the wheel. 

Stop studying and come dance with me, she had said into the phone.

Mor had laughed. It’s finals week! A few more days and I get to come home for the summer. Then, we will dance, I promise. 

Until then, she had Cassian. 

And every time Feyre brought Cassian out onto the dance floor, the girls gravitated toward him. 

True enough, as the second the song ended and another was beginning, a tall, blonde woman with a short black dress and combat boots had come up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. The second he turned to face her, Feyre hurried away. 

Rhysand was laughing, watching the scene unfold. He handed Feyre her glass as she sat back on her stool.

“Works every time.”

“You’re the greatest wing man,” Rhysand agreed, pressing his bottle to his lips. “Alright, now it’s my turn.”

He set his glass on the bar top before standing up and holding out his hand. Feyre drained her glass before putting her hand in his. 

He pulled her close to his body. He smelled of lavender and vanilla.

“Have you been using my soap?” she asked, leaning forward to talk into his ear. 

He laughed, his breath hot against the side of her face as he said, “That depends...will you be pissed if I said yes?”

“Damn it, Rhys,” she said, unable to stop her grin as one of his hands found her waist, the other still in her hand. 

They danced, and Feyre found herself loving every minute of it. Everything came so natural with Rhys. For the first time in a long time, Feyre was enjoying herself without any thought of all she had been going through. 

That joy was nice, while it lasted.

Because half an hour later, Rhysand was pulled back by the shoulder and knocked to the floor by a fist that belonged to a man, all too familiar.

“What the fuck?” Feyre yelled, looking into Tamlin’s deep, green eyes.

“I knew it,” he hissed. “I fucking knew it.”

It was what he had accused her of, once more, when she was at his apartment that morning, getting the rest of her things.

You fucking Rhys, yet? He’d asked.

Feyre never answered him. She just got the box of her shit and left.

Rhysand was back on his feet, a bruise already forming on his eye bone, Cassian having come to Feyre’s side. 

“Fucking whore,” Tamlin spat, then Cassian was standing in front of Feyre.

“You need to leave,” Rhysand said, as the music died down, obvious that there was a scene about to play out.

Feyre was mortified. 

“Why?” Tamlin asked, turning around to face Rhysand. “This is a public space, I am just as welcome here as anyone else.”

“No,” Rhysand said, eyes narrowed. “You’re not.”

“Says the guy that was just knocked on his ass.”

Cassian took a step closer to Tamlin’s back, just as Rhysand took a step closer in front of him. “You need to leave, Tam.”

“Tam,” he repeated the old nickname. “Been a while since I heard that from you. Or Feyre, for that matter. But, I suppose she would stop calling me by my nickname the moment she started fucking you-”

Rhysand’s fist met Tamlin’s jaw, and Tamlin stumbled, catching himself before he could fall onto the floor. 

Feyre’s eyes went wide as blood trickled out of the side of Tamlin’s mouth.

Tamlin started forward, but Cassian intervened, pushing Tamlin back by his shoulders. He whispered something feral into his ear, which made Tamlin stop. He looked from Feyre to Rhysand, shook his head, and walked out. Cassian looked back at the band, and said, “Where’s the music?”

They started up again and people began dancing like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. 

Feyre’s hands were shaking, though, as she excused herself and hurried to the restroom. She locked herself inside of a stall and cried.

She was pissed.

Pissed at Tamlin, pissed at the sight of him, pissed that he came to ruin her night.

She was pissed at Rhysand, pissed that he’d punched her ex. He was better that than, better than to stoop to Tamlin’s level.

She was pissed at herself. Pissed that she cared. Pissed that it bothered her at all. 

The door opened, and loud footsteps trailed to the other side of the stall door. 

“Feyre.” A soft knock. “Open up.”

“Fuck off,” she said, wiping at her eyes.

“Open the door or I’ll crawl underneath and this floor is disgusting.”

Angrily, Feyre unlocked the door and pushed it open.

Rhysand was standing there, arms crossed. The bruise beneath his eye was turning a soft shade of blue. “I’m sor-”

“I’m ready to go home.”

Rhysand frowned. He reached out for her hand, and she let him take it. He pulled her toward him, into his chest, and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry. Okay? I got pissed. I caused a scene. I’m sorry.”

“You can’t just go around hitting people,” she said, voice muffled into his shirt. 

“I know,” he said.

“And I can stand up for myself without the two of you brutes causing a scene,” she said, referring to him and Cassian, who was most likely back to dancing with the tall blonde.

“I know,” he said, and leaned back, taking her face into her hands.

His eyes were full of worry, full of regret.

She understood where Tamlin was coming from, she supposed, in the fact that it would not be the craziest thing for Feyre to end up with Rhys. He was her best friend and she loved him, more than she loved most people, differently than she loved anyone else. 

But they had never done anything. They had only ever been friends.

“Let’s go back out there. Drinks are on me,” he said.

“I thought they were already on you,” Feyre said, and Rhysand grinned, although it didn’t meet his eyes.

“I am sorry,” he said. “You can hit me, if you want.”

“Tempting,” Feyre mumbled, before pushing against his chest. “I’m going to poke you in your bruise when you least expect it.”

Rhysand laughed. “Feel better, do you?”

Feyre rolled her eyes, then pressed her lips to his cheek. Rhysand tensed, but it quickly faded. “Thank you for defending my honor, you savage caveman.” 

Rhysand’s smile was contagious as he took her hand and led her back into the bar.

He called for the bartender and ordered a round of shots. 

~~~~~

“Hungry?” Azriel asked, looking in the rear view mirror of his truck.

Mila sat in the backseat, her pink Velcro shoes kicking wildly. “Yes. I want chicken nuggets.”

Azriel chuckled. “You always want chicken nuggets.”

“Yeah,” she said, as if it were obvious, “because they’re yummy.”

“Alright,” he said, “but then we have to go home and get ready for bed. Okay?” 

“Okay,” she said, slowly. “When can I see Rhysie?”

Mila loved Rhysand more than anyone else. He was her man.

“Tomorrow, maybe. He’s not home tonight.”

“Is he somewhere being naughty?” she asked, giggling.

Azriel snorted. “Probably.”

He pulled into the parking lot of a fast food restaurant and parked. He unbuckled her car seat and carried her inside on his hip. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck.

After ordering, they sat near a window and ate chicken nuggets, french fries, and chocolate shakes.

“Is mama okay?” she asked, looking up at Azriel with big, brown eyes. 

She may have only been four, but she saw far more than most people thought she did. Her mother, included.

Azriel set down the chicken nugget he was about to eat. “Yeah, babe. She just...she needs to get a little help, you know?”

Mila nodded, slowly, not quite understanding. “Help?”

“Yeah, from a doctor,” he explained, popping the chicken nugget into his mouth. “Here, know what you should try?”

Mila blinked. “What?” 

He took the lid off her chocolate shake and dipped a french fry into it before putting it into his mouth.

Mila scrunched her nose. “Ewww!”

“You don’t know if it’s ewww until you try it,” he winked. “Try it and I’ll give you a dollar.”

Mila’s eyes grew wide. “A whole dollar?”

Azriel nodded. “Mhmm.”

“Fine,” she said, sassily, before dipping a french fry into her milkshake. She took a bite and thought about it for a second. “That’s yummy.”

“Told you so,” Azriel said, before dipping another french fry into her milkshake.

She stuck her tongue out at him. 

He stuck his tongue out at her, too.

She giggled, and continued to eat. 

And once she was full, Azriel carried her back to his truck and strapped her into her car seat before taking her back to his apartment. The minute he pulled in, she was already fast asleep. She’d had a big day.

He carried her up the stairs and unlocked his apartment door. After slipping off his shoes, he carried her to the back room, the guest room, which was dominantly covered in Mila’s belongings, and laid her down. He took off her shoes and covered her with a blanket.

Mila flopped around before she opened her eyes, sleepily. With a yawn, she said, “G’night, Uncle Az.” 

“Goodnight, babe,” he whispered, and kissed her forehead before clicking on a batman nightlight and cracking the door behind him. 

He meandered into the living room and slumped down in his chair. He grabbed the remote but didn’t turn on the t.v. 

It wasn’t the first time it had happened.

And it wasn’t that he didn’t like having Mila. He loved having his niece with him, but that wasn’t the point, that wasn’t what pissed him off.

Mila was only four, living in a world she didn’t deserve. She was tossed into a situation the moment she had been born that wasn’t fair. 

He fished his phone out of his pocket to see if anyone had called, but his screen was blank. Unsure of what happened with his sister after he’d picked up Mila from the police, Azriel tossed his phone on the side table, turned on the t.v., and settled back into the comfort of his lazyboy. 

Mila believed that the crack of dawn was an appropriate time to wake up.

He’d better get some sleep.

~~~~~

“Mother’s tits, Feyre, your breath smells like shit.”

Rhysand had carried her up the stairs, and she had giggled in his face the entire time. By the time they were inside of their apartment and he was dropping her on the couch, he could hardly breathe from the overwhelming scent of tequila. 

“Thank you for carrying me,” she sang, reaching up for him.

Rhysand shook his head, slipping off one of her sandals, then the other. “You are so fucking drunk.” 

“Says the guy that gave me the shots,” she laughed, and then Rhysand turned on a light and she groaned. “Turn it off!”

Rhysand grinned. “Alright, come on. Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed.”

“No,” she said, yawning, snuggling into the couch. “This is where I’m staying tonight. Right. Fuckin. Here.”

“Let’s at least brush your teeth,” Rhysand said, laughing quietly. “And take a quick shower.”

“You just wanna see me naked,” she slurred.

Rhysand lifted a brow. “If I wanted to see you naked, I would’ve made up an excuse a long time ago. Come on.” 

A lie, but she cooperated, nonetheless.

She clung to him as she stumbled down the hallway. And when she fell into the little bathroom, Rhysand flicked on a light, causing her to groan again. Rhysand, paying her whininess no mind, lifted her up onto the counter top of the vanity and turned on the sink. He grabbed her toothbrush, and put toothpaste on it, before handing it to her.

She blew a raspberry at him.

Rhysand shook his head, exasperated. “Very mature. Open up.”

“No.”

“Come on, Feyre, open up.”

“Nooooo.”

“Open your fucking mouth, Feyre,” Rhysand laughed, pulling at her bottom lip. 

“Fine,” she groaned, obnoxiously, and opened her mouth, wide.

Rhysand, oh so patiently, brushed her teeth for her. “Spit,” he ordered. She did so. Then, he handed her a tiny cup full of water. “Rinse.” She did that, too.

“Better?” he asked, rinsing off her toothbrush before putting it back in the holder. 

When he looked back to Feyre, she was staring at him. “You’re really fucking pretty.”

Rhysand snorted. “So I’m told.”

She took his face in her hands and squeezed his cheeks. His lips popped out as he rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna start the shower. Alright?”

She shook her head. “No, not yet.”

Her voice had grown quiet, her hands on his face loosening. “Do you love me, Rhysand?”

Rhysand lifted a brow as Feyre’s hands trailed down his cheeks, his neck, to his chest, where they rested over his heart. “You know I do.”

“Your heart is beating super fast,” she slurred, eyes bright.

“You are a beautiful woman, Feyre,” Rhysand said, smiling fondly. “But you are not a pretty drunk.”

Feyre scowled. “Start my shower, peasant.”

Rhysand huffed a laugh. “Yes, my Lady.”

He turned to do just that, but she pulled him back by the neck of his shirt, until his face was only an inch from hers. 

“Will you join me in the shower, Rhysie?” she crooned.

Rhysand had imagined her asking him that so many times throughout the years, but her breath did not smell like mint-coated-tequila in any of those fantasies.

“As tempting as that sounds, I don’t think-”

She pressed her mouth against his, hungrily, and Rhysand froze. Her tongue slid against his, her teeth nipping at his bottom lip. 

He pulled back, hastily, and cleared his throat. “Um….I think we should-”

Feyre leaned forward and heaved, puking violently all over Rhysand’s jeans. With nothing left to do, he sighed, gathering her hair into his hands as she cleared her stomach. “You should be happy I fucking love you, Feyre, darling.” 

When she was done, her eyes were glazed over, watering, her skin pale, clammy. He waited a few minutes, holding back her hair with one hand and rubbing her knee with the other, before asking, “Done?”

Feyre groaned, eyelids growing heavy. 

“Alright.” Rhysand pulled off his vomit-covered jeans and t-shirt and tossed them in the corner before taking off her tank top, tossing it in the corner, too.

“Take off your jeans, Feyre,” he ordered, gently, “unless you want to wake up smelling like shit in the morning.”

Rhysand laid a towel down on top of the mess on the floor and helped Feyre to her feet, where he unbuttoned her jeans and helped her slip them off. Her eyes were already fluttered shut as she sat back on the counter top in her bra and panties. Rhysand covered a washcloth in warm water and soap before cleaning around her mouth and down her chest, her abdomen, and her thighs - everywhere the vomit had landed. When he was done, he gathered her up into his arms, and carried her across the hall to her bedroom.

She was already sound asleep when he laid her down and tucked her in.

After shutting her door, in nothing but his boxer-briefs, Rhysand cleaned the vomit off the bathroom tile and vanity before gathering all the dirty shit and putting it into the washing machine. After taking a quick shower himself, he stumbled into his bedroom and fell onto his bed, face first, moaning as his bruise, where he’d been punched, made contact with his pillow. 

It had been a hell of a night.

~~~~~

Nesta stared at the opposite side of the bathroom stall as Tomas thrust himself into her. She tried to fake the noises of pleasure at first, but she eventually gave up as the boredom grew.

Tomas leaned back, eventually, breathing heavily as he took in her expression. “You’re not enjoying this at all, are you?” 

Nesta sighed. “I’ve fucked you too many times. Now, it just feels forced and never lasts long enough.”

His eyes narrowed and he stepped back, dropping his grip on her thighs.

She reached for her jeans on the dingy floor as he zipped up his pants and fled from the stall. 

“Seriously?” Nesta called after him. “Quit acting like an ass.”

Her jeans were halfway up her legs when he left, leaving her alone in the restroom.

Once she was dressed, she left the stall and looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was still looking good, hanging loosely behind her in curls. Her makeup was hardly smudged. 

Pulling out a cigarette and her lighter, Nesta left the restroom and fell back into the loud, busy club. She pushed her way through the crowd until she was out the front door, into the parking lot.

When she got to their parking spot, Tomas’ car was gone.

“Fuck!” she yelled, looking around, exasperated, but he was already gone. “Fucking prick.”

She took a drag of her cigarette before running a hand anxiously through her hair. 

It was dark.

She lived five blocks away.

It was not the best part of town. 

She pulled her phone out of her back pocket, but it was dead. Of course.

With a sigh, and a hope that no one jumped her, Nesta began to walk back home. 

Nesta liked the dark, the quiet. She liked being alone.

The only reason she had kept Tomas around for so long was because he was convenient. He bought her whatever she wanted and was able to find the shit that was hard to find. Now, she found all that a ridiculous reason to keep him around.

She dented his pride, and he had abandoned her at two in the morning. 

Nesta walked quickly, looking around her often. She finished her cigarette and tossed it in the bushes, crossing her arms across her chest. 

Behind her, a black truck turned the corner, driving slowly in her direction.

Nesta’s heart began beating fast, her pace picking up, just a little bit. She didn’t want them to know she was afraid, didn’t want them to think she was vulnerable. 

Hopefully, soon, they would pass her and let her carry on with her walk.

She had four blocks to go. 

The truck did not speed up. In fact, as the truck got closer to her, it slowed down more. 

She walked even faster, her feet starting to hurt against the pavement in her thin flip-flops. But before she could panic any further, the truck was beside her, and the window was rolling down. “Need a ride?”

She didn’t look their way. She kept her eyes forward, walking quickly, chin held high.

“Nesta!”

Her eyes shot to the road, where Cassian was looking at her with a curious expression.

Nesta stopped.

Cassian stepped on the brakes. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she asked, arms crossed. “You can’t just drive behind a woman in the middle of the night on an abandoned street!” 

Cassian raised a thick eyebrow. “Well, I thought it was you from back there, but I just wanted to be sure. Stopping for a random woman would have been creepy.”

Nesta scoffed. “We don’t know each other. To you, I am a random woman.”

“True,” Cassian agreed. “But we’re neighbors and I’m friends with your sister. So. Get in.”

“No, thanks,” Nesta murmured, pulling another cigarette out of her pocket. “I’m fine.”

“Come on,” Cassian said, following her, slowly, as she started to walk, again. “Get in the car. It’s not safe for you to be walking out here alone and you know it.”

“If I get in the fucking truck will you shut up and let me ride in silence?” she asked, turning to meet him, once more.

Cassian took a few seconds to debate it. “Yeah, alright.”

Nesta rolled her eyes as she went to the truck, but when she pulled on the handle, it was locked. “What the fuck?” she looked at him, annoyed.

“Cigarette stays out,” he said.

Nesta’s lips formed a straight line. “Seriously?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said, mocking her tone. “This is a new truck, it won’t be smelling like shit. Put it out.”

Nesta scowled, but did as she was told before opening up the door, this time unlocked, and climbing inside.

Cassian didn’t move.

Nesta sighed. “What now?”

“Seat belt,” he said, and she swore she saw humor dancing in those damned hazel eyes. 

She furiously strapped on her seat belt before grinding out, “There.”

“Good,” Cassian grinned, putting his truck in drive. “Do I want to know why you were walking down the street alone?”

“You probably do,” Nesta said, “but I won’t tell you.”

Cassian chuckled. “Fair enough.” 

They rode the next few blocks in silence, Nesta staring at the dashboard, Cassian sneaking glances at her, every so often. 

“I think you think it’s charming when you look at me like that, but it's not, and I prefer you cut it out,” she mumbled, as they pulled into the parking lot of their apartment complex.

Cassian shook his head. “I think you think people are looking at you when they’re not.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“Insufferable,” he repeated. “Nice word. What others would you use to describe me?”

He parked the car and she got out.

She was halfway up the first flight of stairs before he called from behind her, “A thank you would be nice!”

Her middle finger greeted him as he started at the stairs behind her. 

“You’re welcome,” he purred. 

Nesta wanted so badly to come back with a retort, to turn around and snap at him, but she didn’t. She was tired. Exhausted. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally.

All she wanted was to go to bed.

After reaching her apartment and digging her key out of her pocket, she opened the door and shut herself inside. A moment later she could hear Cassian’s door open and close behind him. 

~~~~~

Elain should have been sleeping along with the rest of the city but she had too much energy.

She played her music, softly, careful not to wake her dad.

She did pushups for a minute.

Looked in the mirror.

Did sit ups for a minute.

Looked in the mirror.

Mountain climbers.

Looked in the mirror.

Leg extensions.

Looked in the mirror.

Flutter kicks…

She was breathing hard nearly an hour after she had begun, sweat glistening on her skin.

She stripped off her clothes and after one more glance in her bedroom mirror, she got into the shower. She let the cool water wash over her skin, let it wash away the impurities - the sweat, the stench, the thoughts she couldn’t shake. 

She found her mind wandering all day, those thoughts running wild, after she had seen Graysen’s instagram. 

She was so beautiful, his girlfriend. Long, auburn hair, striking blue eyes. 

She was who he preferred. 

Even when they were together, she was who he preferred. There was a time Graysen had loved her, she knew that, but that didn’t make it any easier when Elain got home early from work one day and saw her little blue car parked in their driveway. 

Elain and Graysen were to be married in two months.

But they would not be getting married anymore. 

Elain no longer warmed his bed, Elain no longer woke up next to him every morning, Elain no longer kissed him goodbye as they both left their home to go to work, to make money, to save for their future. 

Graysen no longer loved her. Graysen no longer found her worthy. Graysen had grown bored with her, bored with the perfect, sweet, Elain Archeron. 

The image still burned in her mind.

She had opened their front door and saw her shoes lying by the welcome mat. Noises of pleasure flooded out of the bedroom, from the bed where Elain and Graysen slept every night. 

Elain would never sleep another night with Graysen in that bed again.

She and Graysen would never share anything again.

Not even the endless void that he’d created in the depths of her soul, nor the voice of insecurity, the voice that sounded a hell of a lot like his, that never left the back of her mind. 

Elain hated him.

Elain loved him.

Elain hated that her love for him wouldn’t fade, hated that she still felt the pain so strongly, too strongly, as if it had just happened yesterday.

As the water grew colder, Elain sunk down into the tub and closed her eyes.

Perhaps she would sleep there tonight. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous