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wanderersbell · 1 year

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first kiss

wanderer x gn!reader

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: scara's sad inner thoughts :(

word count: 2403

a/n: minecraft c418 music made me do it. i love writing from his pov so much he's so dfhfjsfj ⁩૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ enjoy!

the sins that weigh heavy upon his soul grow infinitesimally smaller in your presence, gently laid to rest under the shade of the tree where you sit side by side in comfortable silence. the pain, the uncertainty, the remorse that lingers still is carried away with the breeze that tousles your hair and sways the leaves above in a whispering dance.

no amount of torment could ever hope to rid him of the unwavering sense of belonging that knowing you has granted him. the feeling of being seen, of being wanted, that shakes him to his very core every day over again when you greet him with that blinding smile of yours that seems to never dull. every lie he’s been fed, every decade of brutal torture he endured fades away amidst the soft laughs that you try to stifle whenever he has something bad to say about someone.

every minute spent watching you clean up his wounds with worry etched onto your face, every hour spent teaching you how to fight and hunt and start a fire the right way, has slowly chipped away at the carefully constructed mask he always wore until there was nothing left to shield him from the all-consuming weight of your undivided attention.

“why do you always have to repay favors?” you ask from your spot next to him, gaze fixed on the pair of dusk birds comfortably perched on a tree stump adjacent to you.

having gotten used to your sudden and straightforward questions to him long ago, the wanderer responds without missing a beat. he doesn’t have to hesitate or think about his answers, not with you. the words flow out of him freely, like his voice was always made to reach your ears alone.

“because borrowing and returning are the foundations of all human relationships, and,” he pauses, fingers absentmindedly picking at the slightly frayed seams of his shorts. “i do not wish to owe anything to anyone.”

the wind seems to slow down to a stop in response to this, as if his answer, that held within it a lifetime of grief and sorrow, was heavy enough to will the atmosphere around him into stillness. almost half a millennium of knowing his worth based only on his utility and his usefulness to others remains deeply rooted in his soul, even after all this time.

when he glances at you out of the corner of his eye, you’re still watching the birds, and they way your face is slightly scrunched up in thought sends a warmth racing up his fingertips all the way to his elbows. he can practically see the gears turning in your head as you mull over his words, knows you’re undoubtedly picking apart each one carefully and trying to make sense of it. he would just tell you if you asked, but you‘re always so insistent about trying to figure it out on your own.

you’ve always been so stubborn like that. overflowing with an insatiable curiosity and a wild determination to see things from every perspective, like it’s your very purpose to understand everything you’re faced with no matter the complexity. it’s one of the many things he admires about you, he supposes.

“but, you never let me repay the favors you do for me.” you point out after a few moments of silence. when your head turns and your eyes finally fall on him, he feels like he’s burning up under the steadfast honesty in your gaze.

no mortal should be able to harbor so much conviction and wisdom, or reach such a level of self awareness that it could challenge even that of an ancient god; and yet, when he looks into your eyes, he swears he can see every planet, every galaxy, everything that once was and that will be swimming around in your clear e/c irises. the same ones that see all of him for everything he is and still regard him with such patience and kindness, that see right through the deception that has clouded his conscious for as long as he can remember without a hint of judgement.

“so what? i don’t need you to.”

though his answer is blunt and short, the meaning behind his words find their way to you like a hushed confession in the depths of your mind.

as long as i continue to owe you, i have a reason to stick around.

there is no timeline nor alternate reality where you would ever demand he have a reason to remain by your side, and he has never doubted this on your behalf. this answer resonates from deep within his own broken and worn down spirit, where it was shattered into a million pieces long before you ever found him. although partially mended, it bears some fractures so deep that even all the time he has left may never be able to fully heal them.

still, this doesn’t deter you. it never has.

“in that case, i don’t need you to either. stop repaying my favors.” you say firmly, crossing your arms over your chest in a show of seriousness that does nothing to affect him.

“not a chance.” he replies with finality laced into his tone, facing away from your piercing gaze to watch the way the leaves of the adhigama tree that tower above pull and tug with the return of the wind. like the tides of the unforgiving ocean, the branches part occasionally to let warm shafts of sunlight filter through just to sweep them away into the shade again.

“why not?” you press on anyways. “you know, when i do things for you, it’s because i want to.”

this, too, is a truth he cannot deny. for some reason, despite the fact that he can never offer himself up or give anything of worth in return, you jump at any opportunity to show him an unwavering kindness that nobody has ever bothered to grace him with. having hot tea ready for him when he returns to you every night, making an extra portion of food even though he insists he doesn’t need to eat, combing the tangles out of his silky hair when he drifts off and can’t stop you from doting on him. everything you do for him, you do without a second thought, without an ultimatum.

though he is cruel, his hands stained with blood, his emotions locked tightly away so that nobody can ever hurt him again, not a day goes by that you spend treating him as anything less than equal.

“okay, and? your point?” he knows this isn’t the answer your looking for, and even though he can’t see you, he can perfectly imagine the way your eyes lightheartedly roll into the back of your head. it’s one of his favorite expressions of yours, he takes immense satisfaction in being able to fish it out of you, because the smile you give him afterwards always leaves him with a feeling of fulfillment.

“my point is that when you care about someone, you want to do things for them without asking for anything in return.”

the wanderer bites down on the inside of his cheek at the prospect of you caring about someone like him, knowing he’s done so little to deserve it. he wants to argue and try to convince you that you shouldn’t, but more than that, he wants to be able to accept it from you and demand for more.

but what then? the voice that lives inside of his hollow, aching chest wonders helplessly. when the day comes that you have nothing left to give, won’t you just leave?

surely you wouldn’t, right?

humans aren’t as bad as he always believed them to be. what he always saw as an incessant swarm of buzzing insects turned out to be nothing but a harmless colony of ants, following each other through their meaningless lives in a line that will eventually lead into the inevitable embrace of death that awaits them at the end. so why, then, waste your time on him when it was only a handful of years ago that he wouldn’t have hesitated to hurdle you into the hands of death had you gotten in his way?

the thought has him clenching his teeth together in annoyance until they ache. not because of you, but because of how impossible it is for him to accept something as simple and as human as being cared for. is he not worthy of having it? were the final words of someone long gone to time not affirmation that he was as human as the people closest to him perceived him to be?

“i really don’t see where you’re going with th-“ he starts to say, but you quickly cut him off with your teasing tone.

“soooo, does that not imply that you do it because you care about me?”

he whips his head around with an attempt of a frown that does little to nothing to mask the surprise on his face, and the smug yet slightly nervous look on yours has his previous thoughts coming to a crashing halt.

“i- you-“ he begins, frantically trying to get his brain back on track after being so suddenly derailed. it’s typically not easy for him to be this caught off guard, but the way you said it told him something he’s appalled to realize he never considered.

sure, you’re just poking fun, but he can tell right away that your question is genuine and it feels like a pit is sinking slowly into his stomach at the idea that he might have failed so badly at showing any kind of gratitude after all this time, that you had to indirectly ask if he cared.

“of course i care about you, idiot.” he says in a voice much softer than he intended. it’s almost terrifying to hear such words come out of his mouth for the first time since his creation, but the way you’re suddenly trying not to break out in a huge smile chases it away in an instant, the hardness of his eyes softening into liquid hues of blue and purple.

“could’ve fooled me.” you laugh quietly, but even though your expression is undeniably happy, the slight wobble of your voice betrays how relieved you are to hear these words from him.

you really didn’t know.

it finally hits him then, how foolish he is to have had such a selfless and irreplaceable person in his life and to never clearly express his gratitude. he may not understand it, he may not be convinced he deserves it, he may never be able to fully reciprocate it, but at the very least, he can put the small amount of effort into making sure you know that it’s meaningful to him all the same.

once upon a time, he fought tooth and nail to remove himself as far as possible from his humanity. he swore upon everything he had that he would never harbor affection for another living creature, or feel another worthless emotion ever again. but now, with this new life and new will, the wanderer knows you were always meant to be a part of his story.

in this moment, under the protective canopy of leaves that project flickers of warm light onto your skin like a kaleidoscope of gold, an intense wave of self assuredness rushes through his veins like blood.

“let me make it clearer then.”

he truly never will know what possessed him to do so, but the next second he surges forward and the featherlight press of his lips against yours that follows makes him realize that every hardship he faced in his lifetime was leading up to this very moment here with you.

he can feel the way you inhale sharply through your nose in shock, but you’re just as quick to sigh out a shuddering breath and melt into the kiss, hands reaching up to tenderly cup his face. his own hands find their place on your elbows, as if he’s afraid you’ll let go, and his lips tremble slightly against yours with inexperience.

when you pull away just enough to look at him he swears the whole word falls silent, and for a moment the fluttering in his chest feels like a real beating heart, born from the soft press of your lips. your eyes are brimming with adoration for him and your hands so warm and gentle where they rest on his cheeks that they leave tingles in their wake. the overwhelming feeling of being held so lovingly has his grip on your arms tightening and his eyes welling up with tears, having never thought anyone would ever see him as anything but the monster he always knew himself to be.

when you lean in for one more kiss, then another, and another, the tears fall from his eyes in a steady stream and wet your fingertips where they meet his skin. your thumbs wipe them away as they come, your forehead coming to rest against his lightly while a breathtaking grin has your eyes crinkling into crescents. he’s so close to you that he can see every fleck of color in your irises, every eyelash and every freckle on your skin, and he feels as though he’s drowning in the blinding light of all that is you.

distantly he realizes he might be smiling too, but he’s not sure because all he can focus on in the moment is the feeling of unbreakable companionship that he hasn’t felt since his early days as a wandering puppet, in a history long lost to this world. this particular feeling runs even deeper than he remembers, it fills his entire being with wonder and contentment and desire. he knows not what this feeling is, but knows it must be the same one he sees reflected in your eyes as you gaze at him like he’s the only thing that matters right now, and knows he’s in no rush to identify it as long as he continues to experience it with you.

after centuries of being alone, being lost, being unwanted, he never expected to find what he was looking for under this tree here with you. under the watchful sun and and familiar sky, he nears the end of a journey. enveloped in your loving gaze, he finally finds his purpose.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #wanderer #wanderer x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi #kunikuzushi x reader #my writing

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kasagia · 6 months

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❄️️Warm my heart pt. 5❄️️

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/ The Darkling x fem! heartrender! reader Summary: You're getting closer, closer, closer and closer... and noticed. Word Count: 3,2k Taglist:@aoi-targaryen @budugu @flostvs1508 ~•♤♤♤•~ Aleksander Morozova’s Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 4 ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 6 ~•♤♤♤•~

"Something funny?" his question pulls you out of the letter. You glance at him briefly, slowly fold the letter, and put it in your pocket, still smiling.

"Nothing special. Can we return to further discussion?" you ask as he sits down in front of you and places two glasses of kvass on the table.

You didn't talk about… that night. Or previous events. There was a consensual silence between you regarding those events. A silence that was anything but peaceful. It was more like before the storm. But you both chose to ignore it. You had more important things on your mind.

"There is no need. I've already told you. Tracker and some of our people are going to haunt the stag until we won't get the bones. End of discussion."

"But it's Christmas. Is this stag that important? You don't have to send after this poor animal almost 30 of our people." you try to convince him, but he only rolls his eyes in annoyance.

"Y/N. I appreciate your opinion, but no one and nothing will change my mind. Not you, not Alina, not Zoya, not any women, do you understand?"

"Why didn't you mention Ivan or Fedyor, or any men?" you ask, crossing your arms, now as irritated as he was just a few seconds ago.

"Because they know too well to try to oppose me."

"Oppose you?" you huff, glaring at him defiantly. "With all due respect, you don't know what it's like when someone REALLY tries to oppose you. At least not in the last month." you see him take a breath to say something, but one look from him at you makes him change his mind and shake his head. He takes the glass and drinks it before deciding to answer you.

"Can we... can we just go back to read those reports and finally write the orders to units? Please." he asks. You sigh and take your pen in hand, continuing to write down on the paper, in a more logical way, notes containing some of your plans.

"If you insist." you mumble over the paper.

"No whining?" he asks in shock and you bite your lip to avoid saying something rude.

"No." you say, shaking your head and reaching for a glass of kvass.

"And you're not offended?"

"Since when do you care?" you snap at him, annoyed. Not only did he stupidly stick to his opinion, but he also made you look like an offensive brat.

"Y/N." he says it calmly, and you raise your gaze to him. He didn't seem like he was doing it maliciously, more like he was making sure everything was okay. Which only added to your irritation. You close your eyes and sigh before answering him.

"No. I'm not."

"Your tone of voice is telling me something entirely different." you narrow your eyes at him and he just shrugs his arms.

"Should I smile at you sweetly to make you sure about that?" you ask teasingly, and he nods, leaving you surprised.

"Yes, please." he says, wanting to see you smiling at him at all costs. He missed this view. You both had a lot on your minds lately, and dark circles under your eyes were starting to appear under your eyes as well as under his own. And he despised them terribly. He smiles, though, feeling a strange warmth dissipate in his chest as you giggle in amusement and give him a mischievous smile. "That's better." he mumbles, shifting his gaze to the papers.

He can't feel like this. He shouldn't want... you. Not after what he went through last time.

And after that night, where he almost gave in to his desires, he promised himself that you wouldn't be his second Luda. You'll end up better than her. He won't let anything happen to you because of him.

"You know... I got something for you." you say, snapping him from his thoughts.

"For me? On what occasion?" he asks, surprised, shifting in his chair. He dropped the papers on the desk and focused his attention on you as you nervously stroked the edges of the report, straightening the corners.

"When I was a child, we used to draw lots a few weeks before Christmas to choose a family member to give a gift to. You know, a small present before the big one. And since I spent half of December fighting for my life with a fever and swimming in frozen rivers, I didn't have time to give it to you earlier."

"Why did you..."

"We drew lots for whom we would buy a gift." you interrupt him before he has a chance to ask you a question. "Me, Fedyor, Alina, Mal, Zoya, even Ivan, and the rest. I had Mal, but since you decided to send him to hell knows where, I figured I might as well give you something."

"Whatever bribe you want to give me, tracker and others don't come back without a stag." he says, crossing his arms. You giggle softly at that.

"I'm fully aware, donkey."

"You're treading on thin ice." he says menacingly, but he can't help but tilt his lips upward slightly in kind of a small smile.

"It's good that you're close; maybe you'll save me again. Come on. Just open it. I promise, I didn't ask David to put any explosives in there." he rolls his eyes but takes the box from you that you left under his desk. He turns the small box over in his hand and shakes it gently, assessing the size and heaviness of the gift. "Are you really expecting a terrorist attack? From me?"

"You stabbed me with a letter opener."

"That was ages ago!" you shout, offended and blushing. "Besides, how was I supposed to know you'd just walk into the war room and stand behind me?!"

"Who normally throws a letter opener behind them?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. He slowly begins to unwrap the box.

"It was from my grandparents. You know how we get along. Besides, I've apologised to you a thousand times."

"And apparently my mental health has been damaged, and now I can't trust you around with any weapon or mistery presents." he teases; you whine at this, and he starts laughing. You smile at the sound and shake your head.

Suddenly, he stops laughing. He holds on to his breath as he carefully examines your gift. It's not a big thing. A simple, black pendant. What is more important is its content, which he stares at in amazement.

"I... I know you don't believe in any saints or stuff like that, but... I noticed that every time we're in the chapel for some kind of celebration, you stare at the stained glass window of Sankta Ursula of the Waves. I found it in some flea markets while we were searching for a stag. I immediately thought of you."

"I…" he has no idea what to say. He didn't know you were watching him so carefully. That you actually care. But now… you didn't even know what it meant to him. Especially since the pendant you gave him and the portrait of Sankt were an exact representation of his sister. Not like that terrible stained glass window. "Thank you." he whispers shakily, because it's all he can do.

You took away his words. More than once. He should get used to this. I want to get used to it. But he can't. He won't risk losing you for a few moments... a few moments that are a young boy's dream.

"Anytime. May I?"

He nods. You stand behind him and take the necklace from him. You roll up the collar of his kefta so you can fasten it around his neck.

Your fingers brush against the skin of his neck, and he has to bite his lip (almost to the point of bleeding) to keep from letting out any embarrassment moan at the small touch.

He despised himself. His mother would mock him so much for weakness and vulnerability like this... but all he could do was sit quietly and appreciate your every little touch.

"Do you like it?" you whisper softly, still standing behind him. Your hands on his arms burn him, despite the thick layers of clothes he's wearing.

"I love it." he answers faster than he can think. He knows you can feel his heart beating wildly. He feels himself turning even redder.

"I'm glad you like it, Aleksander."

He feels blood on his mouth as he bites his bottom lip, hearing you whisper in his ear his real name. He was alternately regretful and glad that you knew it. In moments like this... he wasn't sure which feeling prevailed. Suddenly, he realises that he is gripping the arm of the chair so tightly that his knuckles are white.

Where was the fucking control he had spent years practicing when he needed it most? Where are the walls he painstakingly built around his stupid heart?

One heartrender was enough for all his composure to go to hell. And the worst thing was that, deep in his heart, he wanted to lose himself in you.

He stands up from his chair and turns towards you, looking down at you, trying to intimidate you as his shadows dance around you. But you just came closer. He holds his breath and tries to take a step back, but realises there's no escape as he slams his hips against the desk.

"Y/N."

"Aleksander."

You exchange whispers between the two of you, staring deeply into each other's eyes.

The sudden outburst makes you both shiver. Aleksander automatically grabs your arm and pulls you behind him, covering you as he listens.

"Stay here." he whispers as he takes a step towards the window.

You grab his elbow tightly and stop him. He turns to you, raising an eyebrow questioningly. You shake your head, staring at him defiantly. He rolls his eyes and grabs your waist, tightening his grip as you both walk carefully towards the balcony.

You see smoke rising from the Durasts' workshop.

"Damn it, 5th time in this year." Aleksander curses under his breath, and he releases his grip on your waist.

"They're working on transportation through the fold, be gentle with them."

He sighs and rubs his hand over his eyes. The tiredness becomes clearer on his face as he realises that he's going to have a long night ahead of him.

"I'll try my best. Go to bed, milaya. One of us should be rested." before he knows what he's actually doing, he walks up to you and kisses your forehead.

You stand frozen, feeling his lips on your skin, your heart racing at his gesture more than from adrenaline at the sudden outburst. And then he walks away quickly, leaving you alone.

You can't help but smirk as you watch him disappear into the shadows.

Aleksander is pissed. Nor. He is furious. Mad. Not because of the outburst that happened last night, but because he found out that you were getting more and more letters.

And he managed to intercept one. It was from Mal fucking Ortsev. The tracker you so desperately wanted back at the palace for stupid Christmas.

Everything made sense. Every kind gesture you made this month. And now he was storming through the halls of the Little Palace, straight to the kitchen where the guards had told him you would be, holding an unopened letter from your lover in your hand. A lover who, he will make sure, will never see the gates of Os Alta again.

He storms into the kitchen, and you almost manage to cool his anger when he sees you in an apron, baking some cake. You were singing something under your breath, probably one of those annoying songs that were played in every corner of Ravka.

And he almost melted, fascinated by the sight of you so... calm. A strange fantasy played in his head. You and him together, cooking something for the damn Christmas, decorating the house. He never had a real Christmas. Baghra wasn't sentimental enough to celebrate it, and she taught him the same, but with you... he would do all those stupid things.

Seeing you in this homey atmosphere almost took him off his warpath. Almost.

Until he remembered the letter he was holding and imagined the tracker doing all those things with you. He slammed the door loudly and waited for your reaction.

You screamed, spilling some of the flour you were holding onto the floor. You looked at him, and you were ready to yell at him for scaring you when you saw the look on his face.

"What happened?" you ask, brushing your hair off your forehead and getting flour all over it in the process.

In any other circumstances, he would have laughed; he would have been completely enchanted by your state. But now he was seeing red, imagining every single love letter that you could have written to that damn tracker.

"All these gifts, sweet words—all of it was for your tracker, right? You don't know this boy, you don't know what he is like, and yet you try to undermine my authority and change my decision just for some orphan from Keramzin! What does he have, huh?! What has blinded you, MY SECOND-IN-COMMAND, that you so desperately want this rash fool, who only gets into trouble because of his own stupidity?! Is he really worth risking my wrath?!"

"What the hell are you talking about?!"

"THIS!" he slams his hand with the letter on the table between you. He glares at you furiously as you look at him with an equally defiant attitude. You take the letter and look at it in disbelief and anger.

"Do you monitor my correspondence?!"

"I should have done this ages ago! At least you wouldn't make a fool of me! You can say goodbye to your lovely tacker; I'll make sure he never again sets his foot in Os Alta."

"SERIOUSLY?! Look at me carefully, because I'll only say this once: MAL AND I ARE NOT TOGETHER!"

"Of course." he laughs mockingly and is about to leave the kitchen. You run to him and grab his arm tightly, forcing the letter into his hands.

"Read it." you say it coldly and firmly as you control yourself enough not to scream at him in anger.

"What?" he asks dazedly at your command, looking between your furious eyes and the letter you're pushing into his hands with all your might.

"Do you want to blame me for something? Go right ahead. Read. Prove yourself right." he takes the letter from you.

Jealousy and rage were still present in him, as well as a hint of sadness and hurt. That's what it was. Proof that all of this, every kind gesture, smile, look, touch, kiss—well, not a real one—was intended to bring you closer to another man. A man whose insides he would feed to volcras.

"Here you go." he opens the letter and clears his throat dramatically as he begins to read. "Dear Y/N. Thank you for your help. Alina was overjoyed with her gift. I don't know how to thank you. I'd love to be there for her, but I'm glad that at least you can take care of my beloved while I look for some damn stag…" he falls silent while reading, looking for something more in the letter he has in his hands. He blushes with embarrassment, realising the mistake he has made.

"See?" you ask him and gently cup his cheek with your hand, forcing him to look at you.

"But... the other letters..." he whispers, confused.

"I exchanged them with my brother."

There is a long silence between you as he digests all the information and realises the mistake he has made. He turns even redder at the rashness of his actions. He, who boasted of his patience and the fact that he was never wrong. The slightest suspicion that your heart belonged to someone else was enough to make him want to spill some blood and commit murder. And not yours, but that damn tracker's.

"Oh... the youngest one I guess?" he asks, trying to camouflage his earlier behavior. Or at least forget about it for a moment and let his heart slow down to a normal rhythm. He already humiliated himself enough in front of you.

"Yes." you confirm, a stupid smile on your lips. He swallows, nervous.

"Umm... that's lovely."

"He asked me if I'm coming home for Christams." you tell him, and he holds his breath for a moment, looking at you in anticipation. You don't say anything further. So he clears his throat and prepares to ask the question.

"Are you?"

"No. I'm staying in the Little Palace this year." for some strange reason, these few words bring him more joy than anything else in his several hundred years of life.

"Taht's... that's good. That's good to hear." he nods, unable to look you in the eye. You lick your lips, shifting your gaze towards the kitchen for a moment.

"Do you want to join me?"

"I beg you pardon?" he asks, confused. You nodded towards the bowls and cake you were baking before he came in and… jumped to the wrong conclusions. "I haven't… I haven't cooked for a while." he admits shyly. And you smile fondly as you see him so… ordinary for the first time. Humanly.

"Well, it's the best time to do it again, don't you think?" you ask and are about to pull him towards the table and the ingredients you prepared to make a cake when you feel the urge to look up. And you see mistletoe.

He also looks up and freezes at what he sees. A shiver of excitement and anxiety runs through his body. It was late at night. No one in their right mind would come here. No one would interrupt you.

He unconsciously leans towards you. He slowly lifts his hand and brushes your hair away from your face, gently brushing the flour from your forehead with his thumb. You giggle softly.

You cup his cheeks with your hands, and Aleksander sees in slow motion how you pull him towards you. Your lips get closer... but instead of moving to his lips, you place a tender kiss on his cheek.

His beard tickles you a little, and he can't help but feel deprived and tricked when your warm lips are limited to just caressing his cheek. He almost growls, exasperated, when, as quickly as you cling to him, you pull away.

"Put an apron on. We don't want to have your black kefta covered in flour." you say and go back to the table. You smile evilly. He didn't deserve a kiss after his little act today, but next time...

You squeal as he grabs you from behind and dumps a bag of flour over your head.

"ALEKSANDER!" you shout, and he laughs loudly, not caring at all that anyone might have heard his name. He tries to get away from you when you throw eggs at him.

When you are laughing and throwing everything at each other, you don't notice that the kitchen door is slowly and silently closing. And someone's footsteps echo through the corridors of the Little Palace.

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itsgodepi · 5 months

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If I lose my mind | Ch. 8

Series summary: When life has given you more than enough lemons and you cannot figure out how to make a lemonade, the only way to make it work is to get rid of the whole basket. But was it neccesary to send you to a whole different dimension for that? A juicer would have done the job, really. Or, one day you go to sleep as a normal person and the next you wake up as a Formula One driver. You've never been a fan but isn't it like, one of the most exclusive sports? Pairing: CL16, LH44, CS55, DR3 x fem!reader Chapter: Previous | Next Word Count: 5.4k Also on AO3

“Your things arrived a few days ago, the... uh, what’s it called in English? The portier?” Charles questions with furrowed brows, repeating the French word once again, much slower and carefully, so you can have a fair try at guessing its meaning

It takes you a second to give a meaning to what he is trying to say, “Is it like the one that manages the building, kind of?”, the exact word he refers to not coming to mind no matter how much you try. Your mental dictionary is running a bit low after everything went down today.

“Yeah, that’s it” he smiles at you over his shoulder, leading you out of the elevator and into a small corridor. The suitcase’s wheels clattering across the black tiles, following your path to one of the apartments’ doors, number 7 “What, you know French now?”

“No, no, I wish” you laugh, shaking your head at the possibility that you would ever understand any other word in that language “It just sounds similar to the word in Spanish, portero”

Charles opens the door before answering, a sight that leaves you open-mouthed being discovered before you. You do not know in what to focus first, if the sight of the tall buildings and the port drawn out in the floor to ceiling windows or the expensive looking furniture that decorates the rest of the room “Well, you’ve come to the best place to learn”

Because yes, you have in fact encountered the perfect opportunity to learn the language. After all you'll be living in Monaco for at least ten days before going back to the crazy life of a Formula One driver. That is enough time to grasp a bit of French or drive yourself crazy, we’ll see which one of the two comes first.

Your morning had started with a chain of events that leaned more towards the second option. You had woken up in the late morning, the warmth of the soft bedsheets and the darkness provided by the thick curtains almost fooling you into believing you had finally escaped this bizarre dream, that you were back home, and your alarm was pushing you out of bed for your practices. There would be an awful day ahead of you, but at least a real one.

But that hope was short lived.

Instead of your alarm, that ringing noise turns out to be coming from the hotel’s phone, a man on the other line animatedly informing you that this is your wakeup call and to have a great day when you pick it up. Apparently, Nick had been the one to request the service, sceptic that you would make it in time to the airport without him nagging you about it. The exact same reason why he had prepared for a car to be waiting outside for you at least an hour before, just in case.

Charles and Carlos are already waiting when you arrive to Budapest’s airport, inside a very expensive looking waiting room that hosts only the few people travelling alongside you. Yeah, it seems like flying private actually means flying private, with all the special commodities that brings. However, it also means that the first time you hear what country you are heading to is when you are strapped down to your seat and about to take off. Monaco seems alright, doesn’t it?

“He called me like, right before FP2, back in France, because a couple of suitcases had arrived for me.” Charles continues recounting the events of last Friday, inviting you in and taking the heavy bag that you insisted on carrying from you “I wasn’t expecting anything, so I almost turned them all away, all your luggage for the break! Seriously, you have to text me or something next time you send your things over...”

Mindlessly, you give in to his nagging and apologise for not warning him beforehand “Sorry, my mind’s been all over the place lately”, even if you have no idea what those things he is complaining about are or what that implication for a next time actually means. It is easier this way.

Charles seems to perfectly understand what you are saying, the confession about the hardships you have been facing holding a deeper meaning for him than you could ever fathom “I know, it’s okay”, but he does not even know half of what you are going through

After weeks upon weeks of waking up alone in a cold and unfamiliar hotel room —what little belongings you have pushed to a corner and some clothes thrown over a chair—, it is not surprising that the sight of Charles Leclerc sleepily going through the kitchen’s cabinets makes you feel all warm inside. The man is wearing a white baggy shirt and blue shorts, his hair a mess and lips pursed in concentration.

He turns around as soon as he hears you padding through the corridor, a grin slowly taking over his expression “Good morning! Did you sleep well? I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“No no, it’s alright, I’ve been up for a while” you calm him down, walking up to the countertop and awkwardly leaning on it. Unlike him, you are already dressed up and pretty clear-headed, you never know what your mind is going to put you through in this new day. Your room is pretty far apart from the kitchen and his room too, there is no way you could have heard him with how huge huge his apartment is “And you? How did you sleep?”

“Great, it always feels nice being back home” Charles prepares the rest of the breakfast while you chat away, inviting you to sit on one of the highchairs at the other side of the countertop when you do so much as try to help him fix the dishes. He somehow knows exactly what to prepare for you, his plate and yours starkly different and yet he is not doubting a single one of his choices, as if he had done it a thousand times.

“So, what do you want to do today? I have to make a few calls but, after that, I’m all ready to go” the man explains, finally pouring himself a cup of coffee and coming to sit beside you. In response you can only give a shrug of your shoulders while you munch on the toast Charles so carefully prepared, you have no idea what is there to visit in Monaco. Thankfully, Charles has given the trip some though —well, he was bringing you to his literal hometown, how could he not?—, and in a second has your day all planned out.

The conferences take longer than expected, the driver coming to apologise over and over again when he has to shut himself off into his improvised office for another ‘final’ call. That is how the hours keep ticking by and you end up also having lunch at his apartment. “This is the last one, I promise” he swears after you both get up from the table, the leftover of two delicious dishes which appeared out of thin air, still in front of you.

You are not upset about it, not that much at least, you can understand this is his job and he needs to be on top of all these interviews and meetings —you only got a couple emails to respond and a call from Nick, but you guess this is what being in a team like Ferrari really is. Nonetheless, it does not mean it doesn’t annoy you a bit, you really had been looking forward to all the activities he had been talking to you about. Charles managed to distract you easily enough though, got you some Netflix, games and food so it all would pass in the blink of an eye.

“Oh, sixteen? That’s yours?!” you gasp, a bounce added to your step as you approach the red Formula One car placed at the entrance of the new room. The centre of your attention in a space filled with cars from every single year and brand you could ever imagine, the mirrors on the sides and covering the ceilings giving you all of the perspective of the machine.

“Of course it is, you didn’t know it was here?” Charles lets out a chuckle at your outburst, a grin now permanent on his lips as he follows you. The visit to the Prince of Monaco’s Car Collection had been worth it just for the look on your face, the fact that they kindly closed it for the two of you only adding an increased value to your reaction “They have the Alfa Romeo too”

Although you could discover what the Alfa Romeo thing meant if you moved your gaze a little bit to the left, you seemingly prefer to overlook that piece of information instead, completely entranced by the car in front of you “It looks so different...”

Possibly because everything around you is, indeed, different. After all, this is the first time you have had the opportunity to take step back and see the small details, away from the stress of the garage or the screams shaking the stands. That kind of atmosphere though, is irreplicable, the wave of emotions that fill your body as soon as you set foot into the circuit. Real or not, that is something you haven’t been able to get out of your head since this madness started.

You are unbelievable, seriously, after only two days of the break you are somehow already missing the track? Who could have told you that a month ago Wait, a month-?

“Does it? They have been making a lot of changes in the regulations lately, maybe...” Charles mumbles by your side, eyes ever so carefully looking over the car, and leaning over one of the signs on the ground, a half-smile pulling at his lips when he reads it “Oh, true, it’s the SF90! Oh my God, this one... Honestly, it wasn’t that bad of a year, I won a couple races too, but the car had so many problems. When it wasn’t the new tyres, it was the balance, then the understeering was awful at some point as well... It was just impossible to beat the Mercedes”

To finish off his explanation, Charles dismissively points with a tilt of his head to one of the Formula One cars sitting farther down the room, a Mercedes from who knows what year. Whatever, it illustrates his story just fine. Besides, this movement also allows for him to catch a peek of you from the corner of his eye, a big grin on your lips that you try to cover with a raised hand “Wait, are you laughing at me?”

“No! Of course not, I was just-” you splutter, looking up at him like a deer caught in headlights “It’s ‘cause you were, how do you say it? Like really into it? Contrated? I don’t know, I’m sorry!”

“No, no, I’m not telling you anything anymore! Go on, I’ll be quiet” Charles declares, not hearing you and acting so very much offended that you would be making fun of him. To better show his point, he starts stepping back and rises his arms to put some space between the two of you.

That is when you cannot hold you giggles anymore, the fact that he is trying to even avoid your eyes while you follow him “No, don’t say that, I promise I won’t laugh” you swear, taking a hold of his arm to stop him from walking away from you “C’mon, you’re the best tour guide!”

And maybe Charles takes that praise as a challenge, green eyes shining and cheeks full with a smile which he can’t supress no matter how hard he tries. Throughout the next few days, the Monegasque shows you the most beautiful spots of the city that saw him grow up —albeit on an intermittent basis, as he recounts the numerous trips he’s had to go on since he was a child—, a city that he adores and misses like no other. From the more touristic sites, the timetables of which he knows from A to Z and to which he has prepared private visits for each one of them, to the places that have a special place in his heart.

All of this without letting you pay a single dime, getting rejected each time you do so much as try to get your purse out, the little money you have gathered in your time in here resting inside without any prospects of ever getting spent.

It is a shame that when you are heading to one of the spots Charles has been looking forward to the most, you are caught red-handed. At first it is not as worrisome, a French fan approaches Charles for a photo and you politely step out of the way to let them take it, which catches the attention of a nearby couple that take this opportunity to ask you for a selfie —yeah, it still feels strange, even inside a dream. Maybe the husband talks a bit louder than needed about how surprised he is to see you here, or how happy he gets the moment Charles comes over to you, but after a couple of minutes you are being mobbed by half the people in Monaco. Flashes, screams and hands flying everywhere.

“It’s been a while since I last had to be rescued by the police...” Charles signs once he finally plops down on the sofa, changed into comfier clothes and the TV remote on his hand

You silently sort out the food on the small coffee table, still trying to wrap your head around what just happened, nerves tingling with the range of emotions this all brought up. It is not fear, that is something you seem to have somewhat become numb to, but something deeper. That is not something that had happened to you before, people are usually behind barriers on Grand Prixes, or they have someone better to pay attention to. This had felt truly overwhelming, suffocating even.

And yet, there it is, your lifeline. Again.

Charles’ hand comes to caress your hair after you spend a second too long in silence, hands tracing your strands as he brushes them away from your face, hand finally descending down to your neck and lightly massaging it. He had done something similar in the middle of that chaos, his hand on your arm, shoulder or back drawing tiny circles on your skin, a permanent hold that was supposed to prevent you from getting separated, but which had done so much more. “That smells great” the man whispers, leaning forward since you had chosen to knee in front of the couch.

The frown you didn’t feel forming relaxes as you look back at him, the thoughts previously swarming your head now vanished “Mm, yeah, it’s really tasty”

“What?! You’ve been stealing food while I was changing?” the Monegasque rightly accuses, disbelief painting his features

“You were taking so long!”

Charles seems to also know his way around the restaurants of Monaco, the stack of takeout you thought was way too much for two people ends up disappearing within minutes, the great amount of food you consumed leaving you to lazily lay on the couch, bellies full and watching TV after a night that had to be cut short.

The show you are watching is entertaining, you will give Charles that one, you have already gone through two and a half episodes and you can’t wait to see what happens next. It would have been even more amazing to not start it on season 3 though. It is true that Charles had started his offer to play it with a “Do you want to continue watching whatever-the-name-of-the-series-is?” and you had seen him scrolling all the way to the fourth episode of that same season without saying a word as well, but you had got accustomed to brush off things like this, like every other information from this reality that you don’t understand.

You nod and carry on with your ‘life’, that has been your modus operandi since the beginning, why change?

Thankfully, Charles gives you small explanations in the form of funny comments on every other scene, and although you don’t understand some of them, you laugh them off like anybody would do if he was looking at them the same way he does with you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you question at some point of the night, eyes fixed on the screen as if that could hide any of the unrecognizable feelings boiling within you

A chuckle slips out of his lips before he can begin answering, not fazed even slightly by your claim “You’re still so obsessed with the theme song...” Charles also meets your gaze straight on the moment you finally gather the courage to do so, not shying away from the way your big eyes stare at him “It’s cute”

A confession that catches you off-guard and to which your response is to smile and carry on, snuggling under a blanket which has made you slip that much closer to Charles. Summer nights in Monaco are cold.

About halfway into your vacation, Charles presents you with a different type of plan for the day “I’m going out with my mother and Arthur in a couple of hours... do you maybe want to come?” the way his green eyes look up at you in expectation betray his previous show of confidence, his gaze lowering to the toasts he is preparing.

The invite makes you stop in your track, hand half-way in the air with a piece of fruit you had tried to steal from one of the dishes. Honestly, from all the challenges you had expected this universe to throw at you today, not once would you have imagined that having lunch with Charles Lecler’s mom would be one of them, that’s for sure.

“Oh, your mother knows I’m here?” it is the stupidest question you could make, you are aware of it, but this seems so out of the blue —yes, you have apparently reached the point where jumping into a Formula One car feels more ordinary than whatever this is. But it’s because, like, you aren’t this close, are you? Yes, you flew with him, you are spending the break in his apartment, he has prepared your breakfast every single day, but-

“That you are staying here? Yeah, of course she knows” Charles answers, matter of fact, as if it was no big deal “But it’s okay, I know you get nervous with things like these, I can tell her you have a meeting or something”

Perhaps if the man had not been so understanding and given you such an easy way out, you would have accepted the outing, what is the worst that could have happened? That his mom was a wonderful person who had spent hours baking a typical pastry to gift you? If you had not felt bad enough this morning when declining Charles’ offer, now you sure were feeling like the worst person to ever walk on earth. Safe to say you almost tear up when you read the note she left you on the box: Enjoy your stay, my dear. I hope we’ll see each other soon. More so when his sons reveals he had to help her write it in English.

You miss your family that much more now, if that was possible.

Unfortunately, you do not encounter any other opportunity to meet Charles’ mother, the days flowing past you faster than you could have imagined. Charles has surprised you with organized trips to other cities near Monaco, from both Italy and France, every new sight he shows you more breathtaking than the last. The fact that this man, a Formula One driver for Ferrari nothing less, is swimming in money, taking the sweet little activities you had thought about to a whole other level.

Nonetheless, spending a bit more also becomes a need when you are trying to keep a low profile, neither of you want a repeat of what happened in Montecarlo —for more reasons than because it is dangerous. Which means that booking private terraces to watch the view is sometimes required, other times you get a tour through a closed section of the museum solely because they recognized him, or you, which is still something you are struggling to come to terms with, but you can’t complain.

Tonight, to properly finish off your stay in the country, Charles has invited you out to a fancy restaurant. It is built in the outskirts of Monaco, a place where the waves of the ocean are louder than the noises of the city. You get seated in open space that overlooks the sea, the quiet and elegant atmosphere of the place captivating you. You are thankful to whoever had prepared those suitcases which arrived at the apartment before you even knew you were visiting, because the black satin dress that was waiting for you inside one of them, is the perfect fit for the occasion.

The hunt for the perfect outfit had also brought a discovery that you couldn’t quite believe yet. Inside a white jewellery box that you had been carrying since the beginning and that you had not cared to open until today, you had found one of the most important pieces you ever owned, one you had been missing dearly: your grandmother’s favourite necklace. It had been a gift given to you many years ago, your grandmother’s promises of how it would make your wishes come true and protect you still echoing in your ears. Upon its discovery, you heart had skipped several beats, your hand snatching it from the box faster than you could think about it to bring it close to your chest, a place where it now proudly rested and that it would not ever leave again.

The only piece of a reality which appears evermore distant and unreachable each passing day.

The dinner is spent chatting away and tasting delicious dishes that you cannot pronounce the name of, your knight in shining armour —in this case, a navy-blue suit that fits him like a glove— saving you time and time again from embarrassing yourself trying. That gesture in itself being a blessing in disguise. It is fascinating watching Charles talk in French, sounding ever so charming speaking words you do not understand, his voice and demeanour changing when talking in his mother tongue. You have not learned a word in French, but if the hours you have spent staring at Charles talking counted, you would have the highest level.

That is some of the nonsense you keep thinking about in the way back to the apartment, your body comfortably relaxing back into the passenger seat of his Ferrari while the city lights keep flowing by your sides. The Monegasque takes his hand off the gearstick after reaching a red light, resting it atop your knee and gently squeezing it when you don’t peel your eyes off the window.

“Sleepy?” he queries in a soft voice, amused.

You shake your head in response, the “No” slipping from your lips too low to even hear it yourself. Your hand reflexively comes down to wrap around his in reassurance, an act which only manages to further confirm his suspicions.

Charles walks to your side to help you out of the car, the excuse of being sleepy —although the expensive wine and your high heels are playing a big role in your clumsy walk— useful enough for you to hold onto his arm in the way up to his apartment. The silence is nice too, calming despite the fact that it is hiding so many thoughts behind.

“So, did you have fun?” Charles is the first one to speak once you reach the parting point, even if it is only the middle of his living room and there is still time tomorrow before he takes you to the airport, it feels more important than that

“Yeah, I did, a lot. Thank you, Charles, for everything” you respond, the words coming straight from your heart, you are grateful for not only the material part of this vacation, but for how comfortable he has made you feel in this unknown reality. The man has truly made of your trip to Monaco an unforgettable experience, a memory that you will forever cherish. You hope he understand that.

Although he tries to downplay it, say how much of a good time he has had thanks to you and all of that, you are quick to shush him, repeating your thanks and not accepting any of the justifications he’s give. And he somehow lets you get away with it, that easily, a fond smile pulling at his lips while he looks down at you “Okay, okay... I’m just happy you are here, honestly”

Charles word’s startle you, your heart speeding to a hundred miles per hour in just a second. The man ignites this inexplicable feeling inside of you, one so familiar and foreign at the same time, slowly building inside of you, a warmth that threatens to overcome you at any second if you let it. This silence and closeness not helping you in the slightest.

Paired with these thoughts come other less comforting ones, a more logical part that warns you that you have been letting this go on for too long. You let your hold on Charles’s arm fall, instinctively taking a step back. This is too much, the wine must have been playing with your head, you have let this go on for over time and-

However, Charles doesn’t seem to agree with any of the thoughts boiling in your head, his hand following the movements of yours and catching it halfway, his fingers intertwining with yours. Not ready to let you go just yet. He can see the gears turning at full force inside your mind as well, hopes the gesture will stop you from overthinking it all and focus solely on this.

For you though, that train of thought isn’t as easy to reach, even less so when his touch has set your nerves alight. “Oh, yeah, me too! Well-, I mean, I’m happy to be here. The first day I thought I wouldn’t even see you in all ten days, but it’s been great ever since, I promise!” the tension of the moment is too much to handle, and it forces the first stupidity that comes to your mind out to break it

Charles tilts his head to the side, taking some extra time to process what you said “What?”

Sadly, instead of simply waiting for him to interpret your babbling, your big mouth keeps on talking “You were working, I completely understand! I mean, you’re in Ferrari, of course... I just got nervous at first, that’s all”

“Oh” the Monegasque simply says, his face void of any emotion as he watches you freaking out thinking you’ve upset him. You and your stupid brain that keeps making up excuses for a joke you had told to ease the tension, you should start thinking twice about it. The wine has also loosed up your tongue.

At some point Charles decides it is time to have some mercy on you and stop your monologue, a big grin making his eyes crinkle before he is using his hold on your hand to bring you in for a big hug — what a nice way to ask you to shut up.

“Seriously, this is driving me crazy...” he confesses with a giggle, tightening his arms around your body as you deflate in his hold, letting go of all the nerves that had so suddenly preyed on you “You know what happened? I prepared everything, arranged some visits and talked to some people, everything! And I thought: I’ll push all the meetings I have to Monday and Tuesday, so they won’t bother us at all, she’ll probably sleep until, like 2 p. m.” Charles narrates the plan he had so carefully drawn up for your visit, making a pause to lean back and see your reaction to all that happened behind the scenes before you came to the country “Well, turns out that someone, even after driving for 70 whole laps in Hungary and having not slept at all during the flight, just decided to wake up at 8 in the morning! Who does that?”

The belly laugh that escapes you is loud, cheeks hurting from the big smile that has managed to take over your face throughout Charles’ story, his expressions and gestures depicting how much it had surprised him to see you walking down the hall that morning. All dressed up and ready for the day, if you may add.

“Why do you think I took you to the Prince’s Car Collection that day? I thought, since she’s been pestering me for months about it, maybe that’ll make her forget she’s been locked away all morning”

“Aw, that’s so nice!” you compliment him, elongating the syllables and swaying him from side to side to further support your words, your hands still resting on his chest and his having claimed their place at your sides. You do not remember ever talking about the collection, but that is something that does not matter right now "You've been a great tour guide"

“I really am nice” Charles affirms with a smirk, like he cannot believe you didn't find that out earlier, and you can only nod at him in agreement. He has been nothing but amazing in the time you have known each other, you’ll give him that. "I don't know about the tour guide part though, you've been only laughing at me..."

You playfully hit his chest, smiles turning to giggles that give way to a comfortable silence, a moment to relax. Happiness is spilling out of every single pore of your skin as you look at each other with a silly grin on your lips, eyes analysing every feature of the other’s face and committing it to memory as if they were about to vanish in time. A strong hold on each other just in case.

You can see Charles debating wether to break the silence or not, a soft frown set in between his eyebrows while his eyes search for a sign in yours. His lips are pursed, the words that had been stuck in his mind for a while now about to finally be pronounced. However, a strange music beats him to it.

It promptly steals your attention from him, moment broken. Your head turns to the sound, recognizing where it seems to be coming from... your bedroom?

As if hypnotised, you step away from Charles, the Monegasque letting you go from his hold without putting up much of a fight —although he desperately wants to. Something inside of you pulling you towards the sound. The steps you take to the room seem endless, the heels clicking on the hardwood following your path and the noise getting louder, but when you open the door it all happens so fast. You somehow know exactly where it is coming from, hands digging with urgency inside the backpack you had taken to airport 10 days ago. Having come to kneel on the ground, you pull out a cloth bag and lay it out beside you, the realization that it is the same one Nick left for you in Hungary’s hotel and you had not even opened, being too vague for you to fully grasp it.

The music is louder now, your ears ringing with the stupid rhythm when you finally decide to empty all of its contents out on the floor for easier access. You find a lip balm, earphones, some papers and buried under all of it: a phone.

Another one. A phone you had never seen, the one Nick gave you at the start of this madness still secure in your bag. Where did it come from? Nick had said the bag contained the stuff you left behind at the track, but you sure as hell did not leave this.

You watch your hand stretching towards the device in slow motion, your mind pushing you forward but getting no response in return. The screen is upside down, the case vibrating against the floor and joining the cacophony of sounds that has been bouncing off your ears, a feeling of being underwater so awfully recognizable that you get dizzy just thinking about the last time you endured its consequences. The necklace burning in your chest.

What is this phone? Who is calling?

Your fingers tingle at the touch, the device turning in your hold ever so slowly to reveal the caller screen. At the top, written in big bold letters reads the contact's name you have been longing to see for so long:

DAD

A due reminder that none of this is real.

Author's note: Omg, this is so long, I got carried the fuck away with this one. As you have probably noticed it is not even proofread, if I keep it in my drafts any longer I'll keep adding to it. It ended up being as a kind of Charles' one shot thing so I hope you all enjoyed it. As always, any kind of interaction is greatly appreciated, thank you all so much for reading!

Also happy New Year to everyone!! This was supposed to be my Christmas present to all of you but it just kept going out of control.

Taglist: @purplephantomwolf @raye2000 @yuiiimd @drezzerk33 @leclercdream @homie0sapien @minkyungseokie @carlossainzwho @rewmuslupin @kyuupidwrites @raevyng @lazybot @gills-lounge @hiraethrhapsody @jjkclub @darleneslane @therealcap @aespie

If anybody is missing from the taglist, please send me a message! I've had some problems with tumblr lately so I'm really sorry if I didn't tag you.

#charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 x you #formula one x reader #formula one x you #f1 imagine

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graneymar · 1 year

Note

HII can you do a jealous neymar? Thank you!

#9. NEYMAR: JEALOUSY JEALOUSY

SUMMARY: Neymar is getting jealous because one of his friends seems to like you a little too much

WARNINGS: none

PAIRING: Neymar x fem!reader

"Oh God, that guy, Gabriel Medina, he’s literally so hot! Have you already met him?", Nessa, my best friend, asked and held up her phone, a picture of Gabriel on her screen. "Yeah, last time we were in Brasil I've met him a few times. He's really nice", I told her as I prepared Neymars favorite salad for him. He would be home from training soon. "I am having the biggest crush on him, literally. Next time you're going to Brasil and get to meet him you gotta take me with you", she insisted, "Why have you never talked about him before? I usually know when you're hanging out with Neys friends." The moment she finished her sentence, my phone lit up. An instagram notification. Speak of the devil and he appears. Gabriel replied to my insta story.

"The weather in Paris looks shit, you better move your ass to São Paulo soon 😏 jk. Tell me when you're here again tho!"

I never really knew how to react to Gabriel acting this way. Was he actually flirting or just trying to be nice and funny? I knew most of Neymars friends and none of them acted like this, at least not around me. I glanced up at Nessa and handed her my phone, "That’s why I prefer not to talk about him - at all." Nessas mouth fell open as she read the message. "Y/N, he obviously laid his eyes on you! Does Ney know about it?" I shook my head from left to right quickly. We were together for nine months now, but I still didn't feel good about talking negatively about one of his closest friends. Plus, Gabriel meant a lot to him, I didn't want to be the reason their friendship would come to an end. "Neymar doesn’t know anything about it and I don't want him to know, at least not yet", I answered her question and heard something drop onto the ground. I slightly turned my head to find Neymar standing in the door frame, his training bag on the floor next to him. His eyes said more than a thousand words. He must’ve heard us. "Hi babe, how was training?", I rapidly put on a fake smile to hide my shock. No reaction from his side. "Uhm, I made you your favorite salad! Are you hungry?" He watched me for a few seconds, my nervousness rising, before he finally spoke up. "I don’t know about what? What is it that you don’t want me to know?" I gulped, my heartbeat skipped a beat. Nessas eyes kept on wandering between us until she decided to get up from her seat. "I'll just leave you two alone", she shyly said, "Have a nice day!" And with that, the front door was closed behind her. Neymar still stood in the door frame, his eyes literally looking right through me, the silence in the room was unbearable. "Are you going to tell me what you’ve been talking about now or do I have to find out another way?", he said, his voice calm yet mad. I bit the side of my cheek, not sure what I was supposed to do. I unlocked my phone and went on instagram in order to show him mine and Gabriels chat, but I got cut off in the middle of doing so. "Seriously? You're going on fucking instagram now?", Neymar raised his angry voice. My body twitched at his tone. I put my phone onto the kitchen counter and pushed it to Neymar, Gabriels message already visible. I followed his eyes reading every word, but I wasn’t able to read his facial expression. He then took my phone and scrolled through the chat, reading about how Gabriel called me beautiful, saying I should come back to São Paulo, sending me songs and a lot of - mostly shirtless - photos of himself. "Block him", he suddenly said. I looked at him in disbelief. "Ney, he’s one of your best friends. Don’t you think it’ll be awkward when I see him again after I blocked him?" He handed me back my phone and looked me straight in the eyes. "Who says you’ll see him again? I won’t let that bastard get near you." I shook my head from left to right, "Don't talk about him like that, he’s still one of the closest people to you."

"You really think I'll act like everything is alright after this son of a bitch tried to get to my woman? He better pray to God I won't see him next time I'm in Brasil. He really thinks he can pull whoever he wants with his sparkly eyes, adorable smile and bodybuilder body. Always acting like Mister Charming and being oh so funny. You can try to pull whoever you want, but not my girl." I tried to hold it back, but couldn’t stop myself from quietly giggling. He looked at me all confused. "What’s so funny?"

"Is someone getting jealous?", I playfully raised my brows at him. "Me? Jealous? Of who?", he replied, trying to deny what was obvious. "I quote: his sparkly eyes, adorable smile, bodybuilder body." Neymar shrugged. "So what? I'm still better. He doesn’t even come close to me." His lips were pouted and his eyes wandered to the ground as he was speaking. "Aw babe", I started, positioning myself right in front of him and wrapping my hands around his neck, "You are the most attractive, truly the most handsome man I've met in my whole life. No one makes me laugh like you do. You make me the happiest and I couldn't imagine a better boyfriend than you." I smiled and kissed his lips gently. His facial expression softened as he placed his hands onto my waist. "Just block him, ok?"

"Your wish is my command", I nodded before pecking his lips once more.

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cypheroo · 3 months

Text

Morning Confessions | Laurence Zvhal

"Hi can I request a fic with Laurance complementing the reader but she doesn’t believe him and he tries to prove that he serious?"

Word count : 774

Tw : none?

AN : SO, I tried to follow the request :) AND I have two more Laurence ficss coming soon (a siren x Laurence one and an angsty Laurence one both of which are long asf), so I wanted to get this one written!

Laurence was so handsome…he had such a charm to him, and gosh even just a light graze of his touch would send Shivers up your spine. And he knew this, he knew because he looked at you a lot more now than before. His ‘accidental’ touches seemed to happen more now.

Some people would say he might be feeling the same way you do, but his eyes were for lord aphmau, not for you. And those thoughts alone kept you from asking him if he felt the same. He was just teasing you at this point, toying with you the way a flirt would with anyone, you and him being friends didn't make much of a difference either.

And this morning was no different, Laurence and you were both sitting in the town square, both sipping your respective drinks, chatting the early morning away. It was so nice, being able to meet with Laurence like this, sure you wished you'd be able to call this a date…but it was ok! You were content.

“Really! Come on, how long do you think Brendon will really be into kawaii-chan?” Laurence questioned, “I dunno? The real question is when another person will catch His eye” you answered jokingly. “True. I'm surprised he hasn't tried his hand at aphmau” Laurence joked before he took another sip of his drink. You Shrugged and Looked back out at the main square looking around, no one was really out this early, most still being inside asleep. It was quiet for a moment before you felt Laurence's eyes on you, you held still trying to act like you didn't notice, “your eyes look really pretty against the morning light, has anyone ever told you that?” Laurence asked, his voice a tad bit more serious this time.

You felt your stomach get butterflies over his words…his tone, and the idea that it Was directed to you? You turned your head to him and laughed softly, “and who are you trying to impress Mr?” You asked as you shook your head, “you're just being nice” you cleared your throat trying not to sound too shaken up by his words. “No, I'm being serious. your eyes are absolutely beautiful, if you don't mind” as the last Few words of his sentence left his mouth he set his drink on the floor and slowly cupped your cheeks, forcing you to face him, “let me get a closer look, honey” the pet name rolling off his tongue easily. His eyes narrowed as he focused on your eyes.

You felt your face get warm, hell you felt your whole body get warm as the man in front of you studied your face, “your eyes are stunning” he moved his bottom lip between his teeth as he tilted his head.

You couldn't take it as you pulled away and stood up, “oh wow, haha. Funny joke Laurence you can quit it now” you waved him off and faced away from him, trying to calm yourself down.

“joke?” Laurence joined you in standing up. “I'm not kidding. seriously” he insisted. Before you looked back at him with some fake unimpressed look. “Laurence you gotta stop testing out your little pick up lines on me” you said with a small smile and furrowed brows. Your look was matched with laurences confused look, “testing? You think I'm testing them on you?” He asked, almost flabbergasted. “yeah? For lord aphmau, you know full well she'd never let you cup her face like that” you continued with a small hum.

Laurence was quiet for a while, he was absolutely surprised you'd even bring lord aphmau into this when he had been trying to hint at you for months about his feelings about you.

“none of anything I've said to you has been for testing, not for lord aphmau or anyone else.” He stated, his eyes slightly more assured, “to put it quite frankly you're the only one I've used these ‘pick up lines’ on. His words were very self assured which made you confused, “wait so…everything you've said- no way laurence” you couldn't even fathom it. “No way? No way I'm looking at you with hearts in my eyes?” Laurence joked as he crossed his arms. “No way I say these things to get you flustered?” He continued, “no way I say what I mean?” He whispered close to your ear.

You shook your head, “no that'd mean-” you started as Laurence nodded, “that I've fallen for you?” Laurence finished. He nodded with a laugh. His hand slowly grazing your shoulder as he moved in front of you, "Baby, im in love with you. And eyes don't lie. It's clear you feel the same, " he purred as he moved closer to you. "So understand my words are made for only you to hear," he continued. "So please... take my compliment?" He asked with that stupid smirk you hated to love. It was when your eyes met his once more that you slowly smiled and nodded.

Tags :

#x reader #x you #reader insert #aphblr #mcd x reader #laurance zvahl #Laurence x reader

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lambertdiary · 9 months

Note

Misunderstood maybe? Like the reader thinks dalton likes chris, because dalton tells her about his crush and everything. So the reader avoids dalton because she thinks dalton doesn't like her. But actually dalton is really in love with her. Make an angst but happy ending please. Thank you. xoxo 🥰

A/N: I loved writing this so much! This isn't exactly what you requested but thank you anon so much for the request, I'm sorry it took so long to post but I hope you like it! likes and reblogs are highly appreciated 🥰

Word Count: 2.2k+

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, mentions of drunk characters, language, angst, fluff

MASTERLIST ✩ SEND ME A REQUEST

Truth or Dare

It was a little past midnight, and Y/N was currently sitting in a dark living room across from Chris and Dalton and a bunch of other drunk teenagers. They arrived at this party hours ago but as people started to leave the small group that was left was guided to that one room. One of the guys that was part of the frat house entered the room with an excited smile. He held up an empty bottle of alcohol as he shared his idea of playing truth or dare.

Everyone exclaimed in disgust at the same time, some people starting to get up “What are we? 13?” Someone said on their way to the door.

“Come on, we are doing this” He replied as he stopped the other guy. Somehow he managed to convince everyone there to play truth or dare.

It started off boring, nothing interesting enough was happening that some people ended up leaving. The questions were dumb and childish, and the dares weren’t fascinating for anyone. At some point the bottle landed on a kind of drunk Dalton. A lot of people there knew him, meaning a lot of people knew how reserved he was and that he probably wasn’t gonna answer any of their questions or do any of their dares.

“Truth or dare?” Someone asked him.

“Truth” He replied right away.

“How old were you when you had your first kiss?” Some people rolled their eyes at the question, but his answer was a little more… interesting.

“Uh- 19” He hesitated. Y/N looked around at all the girls there, wondering if it was one of them who kissed him for the first time.

Everyone looked at each other and almost let out a laugh “Is the person that gave you your first kiss here?”

Dalton didn’t say anything at first, but he looked around and having everyone staring at him for too long made him nervous “Chris” He finally said.

The whole room looked at her, sitting there with widened eyes. Deep down she knew it was his first kiss, but the confirmation made it somehow worse, feeling bad for taking away that special moment from him.

Y/N looked down, a little disappointed she never realized the way Chris and Dalton acted around each other. She has had feelings for him since the moment she saw him, they became good friends but she always wanted to be more than that. She never made a move though, scared that maybe he would reject her and she would have to live with something like that for the rest of her life. And now, that came to her without even trying.

The game kept going, it was finally getting more interesting. Some people kissed, some people discarded pieces of clothing, others were jumping to the pool in the freezing night and a few moved to a ‘more private’ room. But it seemed like some people couldn’t drop Dalton’s confession, and were taking every opportunity to tease him about it. So when the bottle landed on him again, they had their question ready to go.

“Do you have a crush?” Everyone was looking at him.

“Yes” He simply said, not wanting to be the center of attention.

“Who is it?” They insisted. Y/N looked at him expectantly, nearly crossing her fingers.

“Okay, everyone out!” Someone else from the frat house entered the living room yelling and interrupted the game, he started to walk every person out, begging them to leave.

Y/N, Chris and Dalton exited the frat house. The first two were fine but Dalton… He still had to figure out how to control himself. Y/N made sure Dalton made it back to his dorm safe, and before saying anything she left their building and walked to her own, too tired to think about what had happened.

The next day she saw a message from Dalton asking her if she was hung over. She didn’t want to think about him, so she just ignored him and started her day. Truth is she was hung over but that’s not what was keeping her in a bad mood all morning. Instead of paying attention she was replaying Dalton’s answers, and she was trying to come up with a plan to get over him.

Ignoring him would be hard but it would be doable. She removed his contact from her phone and deleted any incoming message or call. They never saw each other around campus unless they planned it, so she was sure she could easily avoid him, as long as she didn't stay in her dorm for too long.

“Class dismissed! Please make sure to finish the exercise by tomorrow, and do it with your partner, it’s important you work with each other on these things” Their professor said before leaving the classroom.

Y/N gathered her things as she turned to her partner “Can we work in your dorm?”

“Why? Is Annie driving you crazy?”

“No” Y/N chuckled “But I need to get out of my comfort zone” She said not giving any further explanation.

The days went by and she still hadn’t talked to Dalton, ignoring all of his texts and calls, being aware of her surroundings at all times to make sure she wouldn’t run into him and crashing with her friends in case he came to her dorm. She had to admit that it was a little extreme, but it was better than having to see him.

It was now Saturday and Y/N always slept in, but with her current plan of avoiding her friends at all costs she had to come up with something. She decided to go to town with her roommate and eat some breakfast. Annie was the first person she met when she got there so it was safe to say that they were close. She knew pretty much everything about Y/N, and even though she hadn't seen her enough the past week she knew there was something wrong. Although her suspicions appeared when Dalton started showing up at their door almost every day, looking for Y/N and begging her to tell him where she was. Or at least to ask her to pick up his calls.

“So are you finally gonna tell me why you abandoned me?”

“What? I didn’t abandon you” Y/N replied.

“Y/N, you have barely been at our dorm this week and today, a beautiful Saturday, you woke up really early to drag me here” Annie was making good points and she knew she wouldn’t be able to avoid this conversation “Something is going on and I wanna know what it is”

Y/N sighed and thought about it for a second “My chances with Dalton are down to zero”

Annie knew about her feelings, and she used to tell Y/N all the time that she was sure Dalton felt the same way about her “I’m sorry honey, what happened?”

“The party I went to, we played truth or dare-”

“You went to a frat party to play that?” She asked, interrupting Y/N, her face was a mix between confusion and disgust.

“Annie that’s not the point” She apologized and let her friend continue “Anyway, they asked Dalton who his first kiss was and who his crush was and both answers were Chris”

Annie furrowed her eyebrows “I didn’t know Chris and Dalton knew each other before college”

“They didn’t…”

“So what you’re saying is…”

“Yes, he just had his first kiss” Y/N rolled her eyes at Annie “Why does everyone keep getting so fixated on that? It’s not a big deal”

“No, you’re right, sorry” Annie decided to let it go “So… Chris and Dalton?”

“Yep” Y/N replied, looking at her empty plate “Am I stupid or what?”

“Y/N you’re not stupid, I don’t think anyone could’ve known that they felt that way about each other”

“Yeah well I should’ve known, I spend a lot of time with them but maybe I wanted to ignore what I already knew”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better there are tons of guys out there. This is what college is for” She exclaimed “Don’t let some dude bring you down like that”

“He’s not just some dude though” Annie looked at her with a defeated expression “You know how I felt about Dalton”

“I know but still! There are frat parties like every other night. Go to one, have fun and forget about him” Y/N just nodded and remained completely silent.

Annie didn’t wanna entertain the conversation any longer, it was clearly just making Y/N sadder than she already was so she just shared random stories about her week, completely excluding the fact that Dalton came looking for her. They ended up leaving 30 minutes later, and Y/N agreed to go back to their dorm.

The day went by and Annie managed to keep Dalton off of Y/N’s mind and she was thankful for that. The thought of Chris and Dalton hadn’t left her brain since the party but she was finally giving it a rest. Currently they were in their room catching up with their favorite tv show, fully absorbed by the screen, until someone knocked on the door.

Y/N froze, scared that it was who she thought “I’ll get it” Annie said, hoisting herself from her seat. She opened the door and rolled her eyes at the person on the other side “What’s up?”

“I know she’s here, her bike is outside”

“Brilliant! Now you’ve become a proper stalker” He crossed his arms took a deep breath. He didn’t have time for this.

“Annie, please”

“She doesn’t wanna talk to you, mate”

Y/N was still on her seat, debating whether or not she was ready to confront him. But ultimately decided she wanted to get it over with. Joining her roommate at the door, she opened it all the way to allow Dalton to see her.

“Can you give us a minute?” Y/N asked. Annie sighed and stepped out of the room.

“I’ll go get more snacks” She said before leaving.

They both waited for her to fully disappear, and once she did Y/N signaled Dalton to come in.

“What is going on?” Dalton began “Why have you been avoiding me this entire week?”

“I haven’t” Y/N said nonchalantly, pretending it hasn’t been killing her.

Dalton bit his lip and stared at the ceiling “Y/N we see each other every day, you think I didn’t notice your absence?”

“I’ve been busy”

He didn’t know how to proceed, getting an answer out of her was harder than he thought “Will you please stop ignoring me?”

“Look, I’m not ignoring you, okay? I told you, I’ve been busy”

“But I miss you”

“Why would you miss me?”

“Because you’re my friend and I-” But he stopped himself.

“You…?”

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this” He said, avoiding the question.

“Giving you and Chris more space, that’s what I’m doing. You should be thanking me”

He widened his eyes in disbelief “What are you talking about?”

“What you said at the party” Dalton was lost, he didn’t understand a single thing and it was obvious on his face “Please, save it”

“Y/N, I want to understand, I want to make it better” He said, giving her an honest smile.

She propped her hands on her hips and gave him a look that told she was probably giving up on her act “It’s okay, you don't have to” Dalton stared at her and waited for an explanation, still not aware of the issue “It’s not your fault you fell for someone else, and it’s not fair that I wanted to make you pay for it”

This didn’t clear things up for him, if anything he was more confused than before “What?”

“Yeah, I never meant to get in the way of you and Chris so maybe this is for the best”

“There is nothing between me and Chris” He clarified, still not understanding why Y/N would think that in the first place.

“But what about your crush?” She asked him slowly.

“You think that’s how I feel about Chris?”

“That’s what you said the other night”

“I didn’t say that, I never revealed a name when they asked me that question”

“You said that she was your first kiss and that you had a crush-”

“Yeah, we kissed once but I never said I had a crush on her” Y/N was tugging at her lower lip, worried she got mad over nothing “Y/N… Do I really have to spell it out for you?” He got closer to her.

Y/N could feel her heart fluttering in her chest when he reached for her hand “I like you, and didn’t want to tell you like this, but you left me with no choice” He was impressed he got the confidence to tell her how he felt.

Y/N on the other hand was speechless, she really had to stop jumping to conclusions “I like you too” She admitted blushing when she met with his blue eyes.

He was relieved to say the least, but now he wasn’t sure what his next move would be.

“I’m sorry I avoided you all week” She apologized. He raised his eyebrows at her finally admitting to it, an 'I knew it' expression taking over his face.

“I will think about it” He joked.

Y/N rolled her eyes and was about to say something, but Dalton pulled her closer to him, brushing their lips together and kissing her deeply at last.

“You have no idea for how long I’ve been wanting to do that” He said before kissing her again.

tag list! @emilyahgreen27 @chloekienzle @llvmos @mayathepsychic1999 @daltonshotgf @i2raggi @taymour13 @maddiescinema @fluentmoviequoter @omgrachwrites [If you wanna be removed from my tag list please let me know!]

#dalton lambert #dalton lambert x reader #dalton lambert fluff #dalton lambert fic #dalton lambert imagines #dalton lambert imagine #dalton lambert fanfic #dalton lamber angst #insidious #insidious the red door #insidious 5 #ty simpkins

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startanewdream · 9 months

Note

A while ago you wrote older jily telling Sirius about their 2nd and very unexpected pregnancy. As it was on fool day Sirius didn't believe them.

Could you write a sequel with Sirius understanding it's not a joke? (If you think that a caustic remus should be a witness of this all, i wouldn't mind😁😘)

For you, Zin , hope you enjoy this pure *chaos* down here❤️ (first part)

***

With a flick of his wand, James sends all the dishes to the sink. "I'll take care of them in the morning," he promises.

Lily nods lazily; she stands up, moving to the liquor cabinet. James beats her to it, waving her to sit again. She almost laughs; hopefully, in a few days, his overprotective care will subdue.

In front of her, Tonks—well, Lupin, technically, but Lily still sees her as Tonks—winks at her.

"This one was the same," she says, nudging her husband. "Usually made a mess because he didn't want me to do anything."

"You were nine-months long, it didn't seem natural that you could move at all."

"I couldn't be more clumsy than I usually am—I nearly broke your front vase, Lily, sorry."

James chuckles. "It was a gift from Sirius, we wouldn't mind."

The man in question lifts his eyebrows. "You said you had loved it."

"No, what I said is that I could see you loved going for shopping in IKEA."

"I'm man of good taste."

"I find that hard to believe—how is the refurbishment of Grimmauld's Place?"

"That place improved a lot since I took down my dear mother's portrait."

"You mean since we took it down—two hours worthy of charms and I didn't get offered any beverage—"

"Speaking of," Lily begins, deciding that interrupting them is the best course; it's late after all. "Weren't you going to offer our guests a last drink?"

James flushes. "I don't think Sirius can be considered a guest anymore. He's part of the furniture by now."

"The nicest furniture," Sirius agrees, unashamed, accepting the glass with liquor that James offers him. He tastes the drink, then looks at James finishes serving Remus and Tonks, before closing the liquor bottle. "You forgot yours."

"Oh, I'm not drinking. Solidarity and all." He winks at Lily, who blows him a kiss in answer.

"Not drinking? Lily needs her sleeping juice."

"I do not," Lily says dignifiedly. "And I should drink in my current state."

Sirius rolls his eyes. "Are you two still keeping that joke?"

"What joke?" Tonks asks, curious.

Lily sighs. "Dear Padfoot is under the impression I'm not really pregnant."

"You cannot be pregnant," declares Sirius, as if it's obvious. Tonks snorts.

"Well, for the things I've unfortunately witnessed between them, I'd say she can be pregnant, no question."

"Yeah." James holds the back of his neck, his cheeks red. "Sorry about that, we thought we had locked the door—"

Remus laughs heartily. "That's how you know you are part of the family," he assures Tonks. "It's a tradition to catch them...ah... making babies, I guess."

"To be fair, it only happened twice," Lily notes.

"People catching you two or the babies?"

Lily nods gravely. "If I had a child for every time someone caught us, we could have our own Quidditch team by now."

"Your own Potter's Playground," sniggers Sirius. Then he throws a reproachful glance at Remus and Tonks. "Since when are you two into this prank?"

Remus smiles innocently. "Since James promised me I would be godfather—mind you, I had to wait twenty years—"

"I am the godfather!"

"You can be Uncle Padfoot now," Remus suggests, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"No one ever called me uncle—James! I'm okay with your fake pregnancy, but fake uncle is too far."

"Sirius," Lily insists. "It's not fake. I'm three months pregnant now."

Sirius blinks; twice. "You cannot be," he says reasonably. "I would have noticed it."

"Is it?"

"I'm an Auror."

"A lousy one," Tonks teases. "Let's see—there's that glowing aura, James hasn't let her hold anything heavier than a fork, Lily didn't drink wine the whole dinner—"

"And," Remus adds, "there's the fact that she told us. To use your Auror terms, she confessed her crime."

"Repeatedly," James whispers; Sirius ignores him. He kneels suddenly as if the weight of his body is too much, and he stares at James and Lily with awe.

"Pregnant—you two are really...?" They nod. "There is another Potter coming?" Another nod. Sirius' eyes widen. "Good Godric, I can't believe, I... I am going to be a godfather again!"

"Er..."

"Not now," Lily whispers to her husband, patting Sirius' head; he is actually crying. "We have six months to get him used to the idea."

#Jily Lives AU #I told Zin I had a writer's block for this series #but these five just clicked something #So thank you so much for sending this prompt <3 #i miss older Jily #Jily #Eyes Glistening

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harbingerscry · 5 months

Text

Laswell Relationship HCs

There isn't enough romance content with Kate and I'm here to add my two cents because fuck me, I love her. (Deleted 2 sentences of me simping). Anyways, for all intensive purposes we (you) are sliding into that, so far, nameless/faceless spot of her wife. I will keep this gender neutral (by avoiding pronouns) as usual but this will obviously be someone with a female body.

PS: I'm well aware all I'm doing are relationship HCs right now but it's because I'm having more fun than intended making them.

WARNING: This contains NSFW content and allusions to mental illness. (PTSD in particular)

You remember the day you and Kate met clearer than you do most things. It was snowing that night, and your mind had been riddled with virulent thoughts that threatened to consume what little peace you felt. Sitting within the numbing silence of your apartment would only make it worse, so you chose to walk to your favorite bar instead. Facing lady winter head on was better than losing yourself to phantoms that refused to be silent. Plus, after working two doubles in a row in the ICU you definitely deserved a drink or two at least.

You can't recollect much of the walk there, you hardly remember entering the bar and ordering. The world had just started coming back to life around you when a, at that time, unknown woman's voice piped up. "Rough night?" It felt like someone had flicked on the light switch when you heard the question. It wasn't the bartender that asked it, but instead the dirty blonde sitting next to you. She looked around the same age as you, which brought comfort to you in a way you couldn't explain at that moment. "Something like that, you?" Her eyes seemed to twinkle a little as her lips lifted into a half smile. "Similar." The answer had unintentionally made you smile in return. Never before had you believed in love at first sight, but the moment you looked into those blue eyes it felt like the world suddenly has color for the first time in years.

You did end up asking Kate eventually why she spoke to you that night. She could have easily ignored you, especially now that you know just how private she is. The first time you asked she said it was because she recognized the haunted look in your eyes, which is partly true. It was later revealed that she also felt that same way as you, that it was love at first sight.

Your mental health since the beginning has always been a concern for Kate. Even before you started officially dating she was the one sending you reminders of your appointments with your psychiatrist and asking you how they went and how you were feeling. It was refreshing to have someone take care of you for once, even if in a normal relationship it would be small but normal thing.

When you first met you had been heading towards a low you're not sure you would have made it out of looking back. It's funny what love and care can do. You still struggle from time to time but it has never reached a point you couldn't handle now. When it does all you have to do is call Kate or, if she's home, hug her and ask her to hold you as you ground yourself to the here and now.

It took roughly two months into your relationship for Kate to say 'I love you' for the first time. It wasn't because she didn't before you started dating, in fact it was love at first sight! She was just a little hesitant to drop that 'bomb', completely unaware to the fact you felt the exact same way. It was a year and a half later that she proposed to you, a few weeks shy of your two year anniversary.

The two of you were giggling like a couple of school girls in the middle of a restaurant. A couple glasses of wine really did wonders on getting both of you to loosen up after a hard week at work. You weren't entirely sure why you were there though. Kate had just insisted it was just a normal date night but this place was a little fancier than your normal 'hangout' spots. "I actually have a really important question to ask you." Your eyebrows raised slightly in confusion, mostly because you have no idea what the question is and your anxiety is threatening to bubble up. Did she find your new erotic novels? Did she find the new toy you had hidden in the back of your nightstand as a surprise? Oh God. Before your thoughts spiraled any further Kate reached into her bag and pulled out a black velvet box. Immediately your heart stopped in your chest as warmth began to spread across your cheeks. "(Y/n), I have loved you from the moment I met you and that love only continues to grow every day. You have been with me despite both our hectic schedules and jobs, and every time I wake up with you beside me I feel like I'm the luckiest woman in the world. You are the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, will you marry me?" She opened the box to reveal the prettiest ring you had ever laid eyes on. You could barely contain the grin on your face as you smiled, eyes twinkling in endearment and glee. "Yes Kate. The answer will always be yes."

Despite her hectic schedule and work taking her to other countries sometimes, she always tries to make time for you. Even if it's a small text or phone call, you even have her work number in case of emergency. At least if it's her work phone she can tell others it's really important and they won't bat an eye when she steps out to answer your call. Video chat was strictly for when she was completely alone and in a safe place. She didn't want you to see if something bad happened or risk you two getting caught doing....explicit things.

Speaking of explicit, let's talk about y'all's sex life. You're both switches but Kate is most definitely the primary dom in this relationship. The woman could spend hours toying with you, hearing your whines and moans turns her on to the point her arousal is soaking through her panties if she's not already undressed. The whole time she's doing it praises are leaving her lips on how good you're being and how well you're taking it.

"So good for me baby, shit-" Kate wasn't usually this vocal but being away for almost two weeks had left her sexually frustrated and touch starved. Luckily as soon as she was home she had the best remedy ready and waiting for her in bed, you. Right now you had your face buried in her cunt like it was a three course mean, and fuck was it a beautiful sight the way, your face was covered in a mixture of slick and drool from your messy eating. It was more than obvious how much you'd missed her too. One particularly strong suck to her clit nearly had her cumming. "O-Oh fuck, stop, baby, want to cum with you." Kate gave your hair a gentle tug as she gasped out her soft command. That's all it took for you to stop and look up at her with the neediest eyes she'd ever seen. "Need more of you Kate~" You were in a headspace she knew all too well, and it was going to be a long night.

Kate will never admit it but one of the main reasons she asked you to go part-time once you were married is because she loves coming home to find you napping on the couch or in bed. Simply for the fact she can lay on top of you and decompress by means of face planting into your chest. Even if you're up and about instead, she'll pull you to her and hold you like a teddy bear. Usually you get the gist of what she needs and pull her to the couch for snuggles.

PDA with Kate is much like Price. Lots of hand, thigh, and hip holding for the most part with the occasional kiss to the head or cheek. This is out of respect for you and your boundaries, and her own. If you give her the green light though she's happy to slip her hand into your pants and finger fuck you. If she's feeling spicy she'll sit there all night and tease you through your clothes until you're begging her to go home, promising you'll be good for her in that desperate whiney tone that she adores.

It really didn't take much to have your panties soaked and Kate loved every bit of it. You had wanted to go see a movie and she was happy to go with! But she quickly lost interest in it so it was only natural she found her own form of entertainment. "Kaaaate.." Your breathy little whine was music to her ears as she traced the outline of your pussy through your leggings. She'd barely been teasing you for 10 minutes and she could feel a spot forming from your slick soaking through. "Yes honey?" She leaned towards you in a manner anyone else would see as both of you having a whispered conversation. Her only response from you was a whimper as one of your hands cupped the back of hers, keeping it right where it was between your thighs. "Hm?" She hummed in mock question as her hand changed it's position, her thumb pressing right on your clit and rubbing it through the layers of clothes. You had never been happier that theater movies were as loud as they were, or else someone would have heard the moan you tried your damnedest to suppress.

Okay, away from the horny talk...for now. Kate isn't a cheap person by any means but she also isn't about to drop a ridiculous amount of money on something that may not be worth it. Quality and sentiment are two huge things for her in both giving and receiving gifts. Which is why the woman has kept every handmade bracelet and gift you've made her. She gets one from you every birthday and Christmas along with all the bought gifts. She treasures them with all her heart because you made it with her in mind.

She does eventually introduce you to Price by inviting him over for dinner. It went great in your book, he, much like Kate, couldn't say much about work though. Which was fine, at least he was a gentleman and now you knew she worked with someone capable. Plus, you loved asking him questions about the UK and some other countries he admitted to visiting. Kate loved seeing your eyes light up in excitement and curiosity. It made her decide what she was getting you for your birthday. (It was two tickets to Italy and her approval paper for time off.)

Overall, you have a very happy and healthy relationship. Sure you have minor disagreements on the rare occasion, but one of you will eventually realize you were being stubborn or mean and apologize. Communication is an important key to any relationship and luckily you're both able to sit and talk things out when it's needed. She loves every piece of you, even the pieces you deemed broken.

#cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #x female reader #x reader #headcanon #kate laswell #kate laswell x reader #laswell cod #laswell mw2

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sappy-seresin · 1 year

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Karaoke Night (J. Seresin)

Pairing: Jake Seresin x female!reader

Warning: Mentions of alcohol consumption, mildly suggestive content, cursing. Minors DNI.

Summary: You get invited to go drinking with the Dagger Squad, kudos to your boyfriend Jake. The one detail he left out about the excursion is that it’s Karaoke Night at the Hard Deck, and your participation is mandatory.

Word Count: 3.2k

MY WORK IS NOT TO BE COPIED OR POSTED ELSEWHERE, especially without consent. DO NOT steal the work of other writers, thank you.

Gif Creds: @unicornships

“Y/n, I’m so glad you could make it,” Natasha greets, bringing you in for a friendly hug while Jake takes liberty to order your first round of drinks.

“Of course I made it,” you smile after the hug broke. “A night out with my favorite pilots? I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” Jake returns with your drinks as the rest of the squad find you and Natasha, each of them bidding you friendly ‘hello’s’ and offering you hugs. You smile up at Jake when he gives you your drink, accepting the kiss he offers to go along with it.

As everyone falls into their normal banter, filing around the pool table to watch the rematch Mickey challenged Jake to upon seeing him, you can’t help but notice that the bar is more full than it typically would be on a Thursday night.

“It’s busier than I thought it would be,” you mindlessly tell Bob, your eyes still scanning the growing audience of people occupying the bar. He nods in agreement, taking a second to study the rest of the room with a light grin.

“Me too, but everyone always gets excited for events, so the larger crowd makes sense,” you furrow your eyebrows at his words. Events? Jake hadn’t mentioned anything special going on at the bar tonight, he was just insistent on you came along. You assumed it was because he’s been extra busy with training the last few weeks and hasn’t been able to spend as much time with you.

“Events?” Your voice trails off as an invitation for someone to explain. Now Bob’s eyebrows are pulling together in confusion, his eyes wordlessly flitting over to Jake who has his signature smirk plastered on his face after sinking two more pool balls into the table. Mickey groans in frustration, knowing he’s lost any chance of gaining the upper hand while Jake lines up another shot.

“You didn’t tell her?” Bradley asks, making his first appearance. There’s a humored smile on his face at the feign surprise he’s pointing in your boyfriends direction. Everyone’s eyes are on Jake as he takes the perfect shot, shrugging in victory when it ricochets off the table wall before rolling into the hole he was aiming for.

“She wouldn’t have come,” he states, his demeanor light and playful when he glances at you. “I thought we all agreed we’d tell her after she finished her first drink.”

Bob’s raises his hands in surrender when Jake’s focus shifts onto him, not wanting to take the blame for your questions when he’s been under the impression that you knew what Thursday nights at the Hard Deck entail. “It’s not my fault, she pointed out how many people are here, and I thought she knew.”

“I’m sorry, I’m standing right here,” you interject, still lost as to what any of them are talking about due to their lack of answers. “What am I missing?”

There’s a chorus of excited glances, each of them seeming to enjoy your cluelessness in what you’ve gotten yourself into. Or, sorry, what Jake knowingly dragged you into without your fully informed consent.

“Well Darlin’, it seems that Hangman here forgot to mention that Thursday nights are a big deal at the Hard Deck,” Bradley begins, smacking Jake’s shoulder to mess up his final shot. Jake releases a frustrated groan when Bradley’s attempt to sabotage him is successful. The cue ball smacks into one of Mickey’s balls, sending it into the nearest hole, ending Jake’s streak. There’s a quiet ‘prick’ whispered under Jake’s breath, but you don’t pay it any mind as you gesture for Bradley to continue. “Karaoke night.”

While he seemed pleased with his explanation, your confusion only grows. What’s so special about a bar hosting Karaoke night? Karaoke isn’t exactly new in the bar scene, you’ve been to several bars that have nights dedicated to it, hell, you’ve done your fair share of participating when there’s been enough alcohol to encourage you to do so.

Upon realizing that there’s no further explanation, you ask, “Why do I feel like there’s more to the story? What’s the big deal?”

“It’s tradition that everyone in the friend group participates,” Reuben cuts in, taking a sip of his beer with a knowing look. “Starting with the newest member. I hate to break it to you Y/n, but tonight, our newest member is you.” Your eyes practically bulge out of your head as it whips over to Jake, who's wearing a shit-eating grin. He doesn't even attempt to look apologetic for not telling you the full truth as he approaches you.

"You seriously couldn't have told me what I was getting myself into? Jesus Jake, you know what it takes for me to be performance ready," you scold him, unapologetically smacking his chest before he can pull you into him.

"Woah, sweetheart, there's no need to get hostile," he chuckles, pulling you flush against his chest anyway. The glare you send him turns his humored smirk into a lighthearted smile, his eyes softening as he looks at you. "Come on, it's not that bad. They already know you can sing and have been dying to hear you anyway. The way I see it, you're doing them an injustice by gatekeeping that sweet voice of yours that I love so much. It'll be just like when you used to perform in college, except in front of friends and a bunch of drunks that won't remember whether or not you suck tomorrow."

"I can't believe you brought my 'open mic nights' into this," you huff, knowing fully well that he's won. Jake knows how much you love it when he praises the way you sing, even though you don't believe your voice is anything notable. "You're still an ass for not telling me."

"Maybe, but I'm your ass, and you love me for it," he flirts, playfully kissing you while everyone impersonate over embellished gagging noises at his words.

You giggle at their antics, molding against Jake's chest while they return to their usual banter. "When does it start?"

**********

"Alright, settle down everyone," Pete speaks into a mic, walking onto the makeshift platform that's specifically utilized for Karaoke. His presence makes the overall chatter in the bar die down as the attention shifts to him. "I know I'm not your usual MC but I was informed of a special guest tonight and requested that Penny let me give her a warm welcome." You catch the squad all glance at you in your peripheral vision, but choose to ignore them as Jake's arm falls across your shoulders. "Without further ado, I'd like to welcome Y/n Y/l/n to the stage!" Your eyes widen at the immediate introduction, they told you that you have to be the first in the friend group to perform. They never said anything about you starting off the entire damn circus with an introduction from their captain.

"You're up, Y/n," everyone cheers, watching Jake usher you forward. He smacks your butt before you're out of arms reach, earning an eye roll in response.

"You better be prepared to make up for this later," you quip, a serious look on your face with the subtle suggestion. Jake raises his eyebrows at your words, his classic smirk crossing his face as he shoots you a wink.

"I'll make it up to you all night, baby," he calls, not caring that half the bar hears what he said. Whistles sound through the room at his words, making your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Pete offers you a hand when you reach the platform, immediately welcoming you into the spot next to him.

"Alright, now that she's here, let Karaoke night begin," he exclaims, sliding the mic into your hand before moving to stand next to Penny.

"Hey everybody," you timidly wave, taking a second to compose yourself while you cue for the song to start. The intro of "Love on the Brain," by Rihanna fills the room, earning various cheers across the room from those who recognize the song. "I swear, I'm not drunk enough for this." Laughter echoes around the room, everyone already enjoying your stage presence before you've even had a chance to start the song.

You take a deep breath, steadying the mic in front of your mouth, playing over the lyrics in your mind.

"And you got me like oh, what you want from me? And you tried to buy your pretty heart but the price's too high. Baby you got me like, oh," you sing, smiling at the chorus of claps ringing across the room. Everyone's attention is trained on you, no one having expected any actual talent to waft into the bar.

"Damn," Jake hears Natasha gush to no one in particular. Her eyes pan over to him, jaw slack in shock as your voice fills her ears. "I know you told us she can sing, but I didn't expect her to be this good." Pride swells in Jake's chest at the continuous praises showering over you from his colleagues mouths. He loves showering you with praise, but hearing his friends hype you up? That's next level for him. He watches you in awe from his spot several rows back, unable to tear his focus away from you as several more emotions flood his system.

The further you get into the song, the more comfortable you become. Strutting around the stage in confidence, you let your body do the talking, easily finding Jake's eyes in the sea of others. That's when you get an idea. He'd dragged you into this, and you want to be a little petty and make him pay for it.

The cordless mic makes it easy to see your plan through. The lyrics continue flowing from you as you take a step off the platform, eyes still locked on Jake as you make your way closer to him.

"Oh, and babe, I'm fist fighting with fire just to get close to you," you sing, your gaze burning so deeply into him that it makes him shiver. He's captivated by the way your hips sway as you walk, the melodic movements making it nearly impossible for him to keep his desire for you at bay. "And I'll run for miles, just to get a taste. Must be love on the brain..."

You're right in front of him now, deliberately trailing your hand down his chest to fully captivate him. To give him just enough that he's practically squirming in his chair in an attempt to collect his thoughts. Your forehead presses against his as you sing, and he's sure you're going to kiss him, but instead you pull away, breaking contact completely.

There's a stunned intake of breath from someone in your friend group when they notice your newfound attention on Bradley. Natasha's fighting back laughter, immediately catching on to what you're doing before watching it come to fruition.

Your gaze fixates on Bradley now, who eats up every second of the attention while Jake watches. He feels your fingers slowly drag across the skin on his neck, a laugh bubbling from his throat at the playful wink you shoot at him before turning your back to him and gently pushing yourself into his lap. Being the good guy that he is, Bradley plays along, while respectfully keeping his hands to himself. He respects you and Jake enough to not take it too far, but he's willing to be used as payback to get back at Jake.

"..It beats me black and blue but it fucks me so good and I can't get enough," your eyes lock with Jake's, lips twisted into a devilish smirk as you sing to him whilst leaning further into Bradley. Jake grips his glass so hard that it's a miracle it doesn't break. He knows exactly what you're doing, and it's working. "Must be love on the brain, yeah. And it keeps cursing my name." The simple task of you participating in karaoke has turned into a ploy to make Jake go absolutely feral, and everyone's eating it up.

"Jake's met his match," Bob snorts to Javy, who nods his head in agreement. The pair of them noticing the effect your scheme is having on Jake. It's a change of pace to see the overly confident man completely defenseless before you.

After a few more minutes of innocently ogling over Bradley, you decide you've tortured your boyfriend enough. A friendly kiss is pressed against Bradley cheek after you stand up, your attention remaining on him long enough to see him tilt his drink toward you humorously before you make your way back up to the platform, nearing the end of the song. You make a point to meet Jake's firey gaze, letting your eyes assure him that you know exactly who you belong to. There's no hiding the jealousy he's harboring over the attention you gave to Bradley. Even in knowing that you purposely did it to get him worked up, Jake's skin feels like it's on fire as he watches you with the image of you on Bradley's lap burns in the back of his mind.

"..don't you stop loving me, don't quit loving me, just start loving me..." The rest of the song fades out of Jake's senses. Though his eyes never leave your figure, his thoughts are solely centered around all of the ways he's going to make you pay for toying with him later. All of the ways he's going to have you squirming and moaning his name.

You can see how lost in thought he is from your spot on the stage, knowing you're in for it later as you finish the song. "..must be love on the brain." You wink in his direction, though you're not convinced he catches it.

He snaps out of his trance when the bar erupts with a heavy round of applause, cheers and whistles accompanying the noise as you humbly bow to the crowd. Penny climbs on the makeshift stage while the room starts chanting, "Encore," repeatedly, the praise growing louder when you bow again.

"Alright, alright everyone, settle down," Penny commands, gesturing for everyone to oblige as she chuckles at their enthusiasm. "That was amazing, thank you." She gives you a quick hug, keeping her hand on the small of your back. "I know you all love her, but we can't pay her to give us a full concert, so we're going to continue on with Karaoke as planned." A chorus of playful "boo's" sound across the room as you exit the area, ready to get back to your friends.

There's a wide grin on your face as you make your way back to your table, pleasantly thanking those around you who stop you to shoot you words of praise. After making it through the last conversation, your eyes find Jake's again, which have remained locked on you from the moment you started your crowd-winning performance. You smile in his direction, hurrying to close the space between the two of you to ease the performance induced adrenaline that's left your body buzzing.

"Well if it isn't the woman of the hour," Coyote applauds the moment you reach the group, earning a sheepish grin and rosey cheeks from you. You giggle in response, finding your place next to Jake while the squad begins gushing about your incredible, hidden, talent. Jake's arms loop around your waist, pulling you into a half-seated position on his lap while everyone continues carrying on about how shocked they are that music isn't the line of work you chose to pursue.

His breath fans against the exposed skin on your next, sending goosebumps across the area which are accompanied by chills that rush down your spine. He kisses your temple slowly, dragging his lips across your ear when he pauses, taking a deep breath.

"I know I dragged you into this without knowing what you were getting yourself into, but what you did wasn't fair," the words are husky and low, only meant for your ears to hear. You can tell by the tone in his voice that he's frustrated and that your little game to get him worked up was successful. You twist your head in the slightest so that you can meet his dark gaze, your eyes innocent and twinkling as you shoot him a knowing smirk.

"I don't know what you're talking about Lieutenant," you whisper slowly, making a point to keep your tone sickly sweet in that way that always drives him crazy. "You asked for a show, and I'd like to think that I gave you one. I'm sure Rooster would agree." His eyes narrow in your direction, Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows to clear his throat. You're being a brat, and it's driving him up the wall that he can't put you in your place in the way that he wants to.

"I'm sure he would, darlin'," he smiles, leaning back in the slightest to compose himself. There's a glimmer that flashes in his eyes as you watch him carefully, enjoying the way that he's subtly flustered by the casual name drop of his colleague who's only sitting a few feet away. Jake's pulling himself back in, lips grazing your ears once more as his signature smirk curves onto his lips. "But, it want be Rooster's name you'll be moaning once I get you home, it'll be mine."

Now it's your jaw that's practically on the floor, heat rushing to your cheeks as you lose the upper hand in the little competition the two of you have going. Jake's a pro when it comes to taking these little games and twisting them so that you're the one who's hot and bothered, antsy to get home, while he pulls back and makes you wait. You mentally curse yourself for not finding the right words to put yourself back on top, but a part of you knows that you were asking for this behavior when you made the decision to egg Jake on in front of the entire squad, using Bradley as your scapegoat because seeing you drape yourself over him is the exact thing you knew would drive Jake crazy.

"What's the matter, darlin'? Don't have anything to say now," Jake teases, dipping away from you so that he can take a sip of his beer while you watch him, apparently defenseless, as the cockiness in his tone grows slightly. He's got you right where he wants you, and he's weaseled his way into his favorite spot to be. Right on top.

The rest of the night at the Hard Deck continues on as planned, you and Jake making points to challenge each other further as the night progresses. Many laughs are shared as the rest of the squad participates in their own karaoke performances, your favorite being Jake and Coyote's rendition of "You've Lost That Loving Feeling," as it was the song Jake serenaded you with ages prior when he saw you at a bar, hosting a karaoke night just like this one.

By the end of the night, Jake's practically dragging you out of the bar, over the pleasantries and well past ready to get you home. You force him to contain himself long enough that you can bid the other aviators proper goodbyes. He stands in his spot impatiently, talking to Coyote and Javy while you make your rounds with everyone.

"I hope he doesn't go too hard on you," Bradley whispers, his stature light after you pull away from your friendly hug.

You laugh at his words, squeezing his arm in playful assurance that you can handle what Jake has planned. "Truthfully, him going hard on me might have been part of my plan. Don't worry about me Rooster." Loud laughs echo from Bradley's chest as he shakes his head with an award-winning smile.

"Fair enough," he chuckles, giving you one last hug before Jake drags you away with a casual goodbye to everyone.

He speeds down the nearly vacant streets with one hand on the wheel and one hand squeezing your thigh. Neither of you have to say anything to know where your minds were at, especially when the truck is thrown into park in your driveway and he's rushing you into the house, bridal style.

Let's just say that Jake was right about one thing, Rooster's name was the last thing on your mind the second you were tangled in the sheets with your favorite Lieutenant.

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

I hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Tags: @clancycucumber230 @sehnsuchts-trunken @atarmychick007 @b-radbradshaw @teacupsandtopgun @fanboygarcia @bradleybeachbabe @rosiahills22 @athenabarnes @fogle97 @vici111 @noz4a2 @bcon24 @startterfly @fandomunite2107

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hb-writes · 15 days

Note

42 “Is that an apology?”

W/ maybe Twilight or SPN?

Another not even close to a drabble piece...hope you enjoy!

“This was fun,” Nora said as she and Dean walked toward the parking lot. “Sammy really should’ve come with us.”

She was still licking at the ice cream Dean had gotten her, a chocolate dipped and sprinkle-covered cone that had been nearly as tall as Nora’s face. It had been the perfect ending to their mini-golf outing, something they hadn’t done in years. When Dean made the suggestion, Sam had insisted they go without him. He had a few things to take care of, or at least that’s what he’d said. Nora just figured he wanted a little time to himself. She could understand that. Being on the road, the boys never had much time alone. It was only Nora who ever seemed to be flush with time to herself.

“His loss, I guess,” she continued as she idly worked at the ice cream cone.

“Hey, Nora, wait—”

“Relax, Dean. I’m going to finish it before I get in the car.”

Nora rolled her eyes. She wasn’t stupid. She knew the ice cream wasn’t going to be allowed anywhere near his baby’s leather upholstery.

Dean shook his head. “It’s not that. It’s…”

Nora’s brow furrowed as she looked at her brother, the melting ice cream momentarily forgotten as a bit of dread settled in her stomach.

“I need to tell you something, and Sammy’s not here because it was my decision, not his, and I don’t want you taking it—”

“You’re sending me away?” she guess, nearly all of her energy diverted to schooling her features and controlling her breathing.

Dean’s shoulders sagged as he sighed, relief and grief both flooding him now that the truth was out.

“You’ll be safer with Bobby. He’ll…he can take care of you better than me and Sam—”

“You and Sammy are doing fine!” Nora answered. “We’re doing—”

“Are we?” Dean asked. “All we ever do is fight, Nora. And you’re alone all the time and you never listen and—”

“And it’d be easier if I wasn’t here?”

Dean didn’t answer, but his silence was an answer in itself. An answer that they both knew was true. It would be easier for Sam and Dean to do what they needed to do without having a kid to look after. Dean was tired of constantly yelling. Tired of constantly being at odds with his sister. Tired of mediating arguments between her and Sam about the schoolwork he didn’t even really care about.

Dean was just tired.

And life on the road wasn’t fair to her. It wasn’t good for her. They’d been making it work, but it wasn’t what Dean wanted for his sister.

Not that he wanted this either…The way Nora was looking at him now, so clearly hurt but trying to hide it from him.

“So what was this?” Nora gestured towards the stupid mini golf course with her melted ice cream. “Tonight?” she asked. “Was that an apology? So sorry, kiddo, but I’m dumping you somewhere again,” she mocked, her impersonation of her brother so terrible, but so spot on that something clenched in Dean’s chest.

“I’m not dumping you,” he argued. “It’ll be good for you to spend some time with Bobby.”

Nora scoffed.

“I’m just doing what’s best for you.”

As he said the words, Dean wondered if he was trying to convince Nora or himself that this was the right decision.

“And I don’t know what you’re whining about anyway. You love being at Bobby’s.”

Nora swallowed down the lump in her throat, the lump that housed the sob that was brimming with the hurt she was trying her best to push away. The lump that held all the words she didn’t let herself say.

I love being with you and Sammy.

I want to stay together.

Don’t leave me.

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said, pulling her eyes from her brother to look at the remnants of her ice cream cone before she tossed it in the trash. “It’s what dad would’ve done.”

Dean let those words land and settle as his sister slid into the front seat, the comparison making him question himself and his decision as he climbed behind the steering wheel. As they pulled away, Nora and Dean stayed quiet, both of them lost in their own thoughts as the radio blared between them.

Dean idly watched the road as he sifted through all of the ways he was like his father. All the ways he was doing the same to his sister that his father had done to him and Sammy, the list seeming to pile and pile. Nora turned her body toward the passenger door as her sudden guilt led her to sift through all of the ways she knew Dean was nothing like their father.

Her father never would have tried to soften the blow. He wouldn’t have given her a warning. He would’ve taken her to Bobby’s and just left her there. Maybe without even saying goodbye. Maybe with no contact for weeks or months.

There would be no discussion of what was best. No consideration of her feelings. No checking in to make sure she was okay. No updates from the road.

Nora reached out to turn down the radio, meeting Dean’s eye as he turned his gaze from the road.

“I didn’t mean that,” she said. “You’re not like dad.”

Dean nodded his head once before turning back to the road.

“Dad never would’ve let me kick his ass so bad at mini golf,” she said.

“Right,” Dean snorted. “Thanks,” he said as he reached out for the volume dial, but Nora caught his hand.

“I know you let me win,” she said, a realization she’d only just now come to, that it was another thing Dean had done to soften the blow. “Dad never would’ve done that…he never would’ve taken me to do something like this to begin with.

“You’re the only one who ever took me to do stuff like this.”

“Someone had to do it,” Dean answered.

“Who did it for you?”

Dean sighed at the question, and he rubbed at the sudden tension in his neck even though the answer was easy enough to give. It was the reason he’d made the decision he did.

“Bobby,” Dean said as he set his eyes back on the road.

#thanks for the ask #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfic #nora winchester #bye bye apple pie

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satashiiwrites · 2 months

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wip whenever

was tagged earlier this week for tease tuesday (by @monsterrae1 I believe), making it into a wip whenever since I’m trying to wrestle this chapter into shape this weekend.

Tagging @monsterrae1 @outtoshatter @missanniewhimsy @whimsyswastry @rosieposiepuddingnpie @quietborderline @tkwritesdumbassassins and anyone else who would want to play along. No pressure as always.

Banner by me because boredom is never a good thing 🙃

From: Family, Familia, ‘Ohana, Chapter 13, Buck POV

Fandom: 911, H50, SWAT

Pairings: Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Steve McGarrett/Daniel Williams, platonic Deacon/Hondo

Fic summary:

When one family seems lost another comes back from the past. But does Buck want to return to the past or live in the present? And does his present lead to a future he wants? Only he can answer these questions but Steve at least will be there to support him.

Tags/warnings: first draft. Not sure if this scene is going to start/stay the same in final draft. NavySeal!Buck, set post lawsuit/tsunami arc. Slow burn (as of now my drafts are >150k). Kidnapping mentioned this part. Eddie and Buck are talking/making things work.

“I thought you hated beaches anymore—after the tsunami.” Eddie’s voice is startlingly close, and Buck twists to look up at Eddie, who is kicking off his borrowed sandals to take a seat on the sand next to him. The smile on Eddie’s face is relaxed, with no signs of the stress of the last few days except for the bruise over his left cheek.

Buck can’t help but snap a bit at the joking tone, feeling a bit too raw and open after being reminded it was his fault Eddie had been taken. “It’s not the beach that bothers me.”

“Well,” Eddie drawls as he sends up a small sandstorm by plopping into the sand close enough for Buck to feel his body heat and knocking into Buck’s shoulder, “then why are you out here glaring at the water like it has personally offended you?”

“It’s not…” Buck gapes at Eddie. “How can you be so…”

“So what?”

The little smile on Eddie’s face grates on Buck’s last nerve. “So I should be okay with you getting taken because of me?!?”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was!” Buck snaps. “It was all my fault!”

“No—it was Wo Fat’s fault,” Eddie repeats calmly. “You didn’t kidnap me.”

“Well, he kidnapped you because he wanted me to leave Steve,” Buck irritably points out.

“Again, it was his fault. He’s the one who ordered them to jump me and bring me here to Hawaii. Not you.”

“But,” Buck’s voice breaks, and he barely bites back the sob that wants to escape his chest. He feels like he can’t breathe and it was his fault Eddie was taken, that Christopher was parentless for how many days, and now Eddie is here and he’s… he’s….

“Buck, it wasn’t your fault. People do terrible things all the time. Not everything is your fault, even if it was partially about you.”

“It was because of me,” Buck insists stubbornly.

“And did you do what Wo Fat wanted?” Eddie asks instead, leaning in slightly so their shoulders are brushing together again, separated only by the thin cotton of their t-shirts.

“No!”

Eddie’s perfectly shaped eyebrow does that questioning lift thing, and those whiskey-brown eyes are silently laughing at Buck, his lips still stubbornly quirked into a smile, driving Buck insane. It’s the look that Eddie gives him when he’s being too stubborn and won’t see reason, but Buck is trying to point out to Eddie that it really is his fault this time.

“It’s not…” Buck struggles to find the right words to express his point. Eddie had been taken because of him. He’d gotten hurt because of Buck. Christopher had been scared and alone because of Buck. “You got hurt because of me. Christopher is alone in LA without you because of me.”

“Again, it’s Wo Fat’s fault. You leaving Steve and 5-0 might have been his goal—which I’m glad you didn’t do—but it is his fault, not yours, Buck. Get that through your thick skull. It. Was. Not. Your. Fault.”

Buck hates it when Eddie is like this. He knows he can’t refute Eddie’s statement, but he still feels like an elephant is sitting on his chest, and Buck can’t take a deep breath. “It feels like it is.”

“I know,” Eddie lifts his arm and slides it around Buck’s shoulders, pulling him in close, thumb rubbing against the skin right above Buck’s collar bone.

Buck’s body betrays him, and he all but melts into the half-hug. He wants to bury his face in Eddie’s neck and shut out the world for a few minutes, hours—fucking days if he could. Buck is losing that headspace that he always depended upon when he was working as an active duty Seal, and without it, he feels like a quivering mess, so he glares out at the water and the sun beginning to head for the horizon.

He doesn’t want to disappoint Eddie by breaking down on him. Eddie was the one who just went through a traumatizing experience—not Buck.

“Buck, look at me.”

He can’t. If he looks at Eddie and Eddie is being Eddie and nice and—

“Buck.”

The tone of Eddie’s voice is all command and years of conditioning, first by the Navy and then by being Eddie’s partner at work, has Buck shifting to meet Eddie’s eyes, which shine with a warmth that chases away the chill of the wind coming from across the water.

“It wasn’t your fault. You taking time to get yourself straightened out while I was being an idiot? Not your fault. I want you to take care of yourself. I need you to put yourself first sometimes,” Eddie calmly states, and each word rings in Buck’s ears.

“You need me to?”

“I do.”

“Okay,” Buck weakly agrees. He’s helplessly held in place by Eddie’s gaze and the light touch where neck and shoulder meet.

“I need you to take care of yourself just as much as I need to take care of myself, but I also want to be there to help you when you need it.”

“Me too. I want to be there for you, Eddie.”

The corner of Eddie’s mouth quirks up. “We’re partners, Buck. I have your back, and you have mine.”

“Yeah…” Buck wants to be more than just Eddie’s work partner. They’d started talking about this before Eddie’d been taken, but maybe things have changed? Maybe Eddie’s reconsidered? Those discussions had been before… before Eddie had been taken.

Eddie reads him like a book, noticing the creeping doubt that whispers poisonous thoughts in Buck’s ear. “Stop it. Whatever you’re blaming yourself for—stop it.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Then let me help,” Eddie insists, tugging Buck closer, and the hot touch across Buck’s shoulder slips down to warp around his waist, trapping him as Eddie’s torso twists so he’s sideways, and Buck is pulled into his chest with a thump and trapped between Eddie’s arms. Buck is warm, and he never wants to move.

“Eddie… what are we doing?” Buck asks, needing to know. What does Eddie want from him? He’s everything to Buck.

“I…”

Buck has caught Eddie off guard with his question, and the other man licks his lips before replying.

“I want to find a way for us to move forward,” Eddie cautiously says.

“Forward?”

Eddie nods, a hand carding through Buck’s hair and then rubbing the back of his neck. Biting his lip and struggling visibly to find the words, vulnerability emanates from Eddie in waves that crash up on Buck, making him want to burrow further into Eddie’s hold and hide from what he’s sure is going to be something terrible that Eddie has to say.

“I... I feel like there’s this part of you that I never knew about, and then I found out about the Seals, your life before me, and the 118 with McGarrett; I didn’t have a clue.”

“I would have told you if I knew you wanted to know.”

“I know you would have. I just…” Eddie pauses, squeezing Buck’s neck to emphasize his point. “It makes me want to know what else I don’t know about you. I want to know everything about you.”

“Everything?”

“Yeah, and I want you to know everything about me which scares the ever-living fuck out of me.”

“It’s scary knowing someone,” Buck echoes, wanting Eddie to keep talking.

#Family familia ‘ohana #buddie #911 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #Wip whenever #mcdanno #navy seal Evan ‘buck’ buckley #First draft

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colorsunimaginable · 2 months

Text

the spare // chapter sixty-eight // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary:

While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

words for this fic: 6.7k warnings for this chapter: p in v, fingering, dirty talk

a million boops to my beta reader banners by @cafekitsune

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Sixty-Eight:

Cliveden’s gardens at night in the winter are beautiful. They’re vast and eerily empty, though that could just be the stillness of the night. Victorian lamp posts light the way and with the gently falling snow, kinda gives me Narnia vibes.

I wander around, careful to stick to the crunchy gravel paths and keep the main house in sight. This isn’t the first time I’ve had such an opportunity for escape. Yeah, I could Apparate anywhere, but why? Now that a plan will be in place, what’s the point? It’s exactly what I wanted.

Movement draws my eye and I catch Diana’s head above the shrubbery, heading in my direction. I’m not ready to go inside yet, so I sit on a nearby bench and wait for her to join me.

“Did they send you to make sure I was still here?” I ask, mostly teasing.

“Kyle did,” she admits as she sits next to me. She’s all bundled up in a stylish thick wool coat while I’m just fine in my Ilvermorny sweater and Thomus’ scarf. “But that’s alright, I’d much rather talk to you.”

Instantly my guard's up. “About what?”

She hesitates for a moment, but I give her my best encouraging expression, despite my raging nerves.

“Well, I wanted to ask how you feel about Thomus.”

I blink, my eyebrows shooting up. “Oh, um, well, I -”

“It’s just that Jake seems to think you genuinely care about him because of how adamant you are about his safety,” she says. “Now that I’ve met you and I’ve seen you two together, I think he’s right, but I wonder if it’s more than that.”

I think about my answer for a few moments, but respond with a question instead. “Is this because you two used to date?”

She immediately shakes her head and chuckles. “Definitely not. It didn’t last longer than a month or two and it was a long time ago.”

“Did-did he break up with you?” I ask with some hesitation.

“I dumped him actually,” she says. “He just… When we hung out or went on dates, his mind always seemed like it was elsewhere. The only time he seemed fully present and invested was when we…” she trails off.

“When what?” I prompt.

She gives me a sheepish expression. “Sorry, it might be a bit TMI.”

I shrug and shake my head. “Don’t worry. There’s no such thing as TMI for me. I need everything.” Even if that information guts me. I’d always rather know.

“When we were sleeping together,” she says all in one breath.

I don’t say anything, waiting to hear more. “Oh, is that it?”

Her eyebrows tilt up in sympathy. “I suppose if I were in your situation I wouldn’t want to hear about it.”

“Yeah,” I say, looking down. “I can see that. Do you know what he was so focused on?”

“Well, I know his mother had passed away a few months before and then there was… her .”

“Bellatrix,” I sigh knowingly.

“He visited her every couple weeks - no matter what. I didn’t even know he was still going after we started dating. When I confronted him, he insisted there was nothing physical going on between them, but I… had my doubts. He told me he stopped going after that, but I know he went back after it ended,” she explains. “Does he still see her often?”

“I… have no idea honestly.”

“Have you not asked?”

I shake my head. “Why would I?”

“Because you two are…” she sighs. “It’s complicated, I know.”

“There’s a massive power imbalance between us and I’m not going to let myself forget that, regardless of how I feel.”

“What about how he feels?” she asks gently.

“If anything he feels is real, then why am I still his prisoner?” I answer a little too quickly. “He doesn’t see me as his equal. I don’t want to belong to him like I’m some kind of possession. I want a partner willing to rely on me as I want to rely on them in return. How can anyone be devoted to an object?” I finish by inhaling sharply, having taken short breaths during my lament.

Her lips press together as she regards me with a cautious look. “The world has really changed since Harry Potter died,” she says. “No one is doing well - especially muggleborns. No one has been able to fly under the radar since they started implementing some kind of forced registry.” She pauses and then chuckles. “And you would not be able to go unnoticed.”

I sigh. “It’s the hair isn’t it?”

“Actually, no,” she says. “You’d be surprised how popular some of these articles about you have been.”

Now this, I’m taken aback. "Articles? As in more than one?"

"I'm afraid so. The best one is from the New York Ghost , but Witch Weekly's was pretty nice. Does someone have it out for you at The Daily Prophet , by any chance?"

"Probably Rita Skeeter," I grumble. I want to know what they've been saying about me. "Though I'm surprised I was interesting enough for one article, let alone multiple."

"I disagree," she says. "I think what you're doing is very brave. You haven't given up despite all these odds stacked against you. Honestly, I was really excited to meet you when I heard you were coming."

I blush, laughing awkwardly. "I, um, I'm sorry, I definitely had no idea you existed until tonight. Thank you for inviting me to that thing on New Years Eve, even though I can't go. It reminded me of what being normal was like."

"No problem!" she smiles. "I would've been glad to have you. You’re super cool and totally normal.” She winks at me and quietly laughs to herself. “But seriously, you should consider thinking that he might just want to keep you safe, where he can protect you.”

“But I can protect myself ,” I gently protest. “It’s because I’ve been under his ‘care’ that I’ve been vulnerable! He has to realize that.”

Her eyes soften with sympathy. “I think he does, because there was one weekend Jake told me about. He’d just met you and Thomus in Edinburgh and you’d been… assaulted while they’d all just been standing there, unknowing. He said he’d never seen Thomus be that violent before - violent without using magic that is.”

I stare at her eye-wided, enthralled with this story. This change in perspective.

“And then the next night, there’d been this party Thomus got drunk at and Jake said he could tell something was really bothering him. Apparently, he was really reluctant to talk about it, too.”

I scoff. “I hope he got over himself and opened up so you can share this information with me now.”

“Yeah, so he finally said he blamed himself for being an idiot and not paying better attention. Like, it really hit him that your safety was in his hands.”

I… don’t know what I’m allowed to feel. My heart wants to swoon and my mind wants to roll its eyes. Except, if he’s not as terrible as I thought, am I allowed to hope?

“I think I remember when he came home,” I admit. “We continued drinking and he asked me how I felt - which was very new for us at the time.”

Diana smiles ruefully. “Does he get points for trying, at least?”

“We’ll see,” I say. “I’m definitely nervous that it could all just be a… fling to him.”

Diana startles me by releasing a loud cackle.

“A fling?!” she bellows, struggling to catch her breath. “Oh honey, you’re delusional.”

“What? No!” I protest. “I’m being realistic.”

“Oh Lady Morgana,” she says, wiping tears from her eyes and standing. “Come on, let’s go inside before my fingers fall off.”

~*~

By the early hours of the morning, I’m utterly exhausted.

Kyle had changed his mind and decided to tell me his roughly outlined plan. It’s not terrible, but luckily the rough bits still have time to be hammered out. I should have plenty of notice before I have to leave, plenty of time for contingencies.

Thomus is out like a light, still snoring softly, when I return. I try to be as quiet as possible as I strip down to my undies and crawl into the massive four-poster bed with him.

It must not be massive enough, though, because just me softly rolling into position beneath the covers is enough to rouse a few sleepy words from him.

“Darling?” he rasps and I feel his hands reach for me in the dark.

“Hi,” I whisper. “Sorry I woke you.”

He hums and pulls himself closer, resting his head on my chest. “How did we get back to the cottage?” he says sleepily, curling himself against me.

“We didn’t,” I say, running a hand through his hair and the other over his shoulders. “We’re still at Cliveden.”

“Hm, I don’t remember getting here.”

His tone isn’t setting off any alarm bells. It’s low and gravelly, like he’s not entirely awake yet. He’s just mindlessly chatting and I just have to be casual.

“Well, you were very drunk,” I say. “You passed out playing Exploding Snap. Jake had to levitate you up here.”

His arm around my waist tightens, pulling me tighter against him. “You didn’t leave.”

I don’t say anything, panic instantly spiking my heart rate, and I hope he’s not awake enough to pay attention.

“You could have, but you didn’t,” he continues. “Not that I’d blame you if you did.”

I stay silent, trying to convince myself that his calm demeanor is because whatever he’s talking about, couldn’t be about the drama of the night. There's no way he was awake enough to hear what we said.

“No,” I murmur. “I didn’t.”

“What room did he put us in?” he murmurs.

I let out a sudden strained laugh. “You’d never guess.”

~*~

On New Year’s Eve, Thomus leaves again. He says it’s to finish last minute tasks for the Gala and whatnot and I feel… depressed… again. I’m mostly uninterested in eating - I ate a bologna and cheese sandwich for dinner. I’m not in the mood to read, listen to music or watch any movies, but I’ve had The Nanny on all day - just to make the house less quiet.

So I just go to bed at the blessed hour of 8pm.

I’ve barely been in bed for longer than fifteen minutes when the easily recognizable sound of the Floo roaring to life drifts up the stairs. I’ve sat up by the time Thomus finds me.

“In bed already?” he asks, surprised. “On New Year's Eve?”

I shrug, holding the blanket up to my naked chest. “It’s not the easiest holiday to spend by yourself.”

Thomus sits on the edge of the bed, swiftly leaning in to kiss my cheek. “And I don’t intend for you to, I agree completely.” He jumps up, taking long strides through the bathroom to my room, where I hear him opening the wardrobe. I sigh, scooting to the edge to throw my legs over it. It’s just my luck I was already in bed.

“A little warning might have been nice,” I say when he returns, arm cradling a black hoodie and black leggings.

He takes one look at me and the next moment he’s tossing my clothes on the bed and crowding into my space. His large hands cradle my head as he braces me for his lips on mine. He leans in and I have to prop my arms behind me so we don’t fall backward. Of course this causes the blanket to fall and his hand swoops down to cup and grope my chest, the attention causing my nipples to harden.

His kisses take my breath away and my thighs are quick to part for him. His hips slide right into the space provided, grinding his hard-on against me. My kisses slacken because all of my attention goes right to my throbbing clit and I desperately whimper.

His hips rock against me one more time before he pulls away, both of us breathless. His eyes trail down my body as he speaks. “We don’t have much time,” he says. “I will have to savor you later.”

When he steps completely away from me, I’m left cold, so I quickly slide on the oversized hoodie as he adjusts himself in his pants.

“Savor me?” I ask when I stand, stepping into the pants one leg at a time.

He chuckles, watching me wiggle the waistband up over my hips and stomach. “I thought it was a bit more romantic than fuck.”

Ping . There goes the tiniest fracture in my heart for him. I scramble for something clever or funny to say.

“I suppose it could’ve been worse,” I say, popping in a British accent for the last word. “You could’ve said shag .”

“Cute,” he smirks.

I follow him downstairs, sliding on my socks before I stop at the door for my sneakers and turn for the fireplace.

He clicks his tongue. “Not that way.”

I narrow my eyes and follow him out the door. He takes me to the spot beyond the fence and touches the tattoo before Apparating us to the Manor. The front gates are open and he swiftly takes hold of my tattoo again to get me over the barrier.

We walk down the entrance path, under gilded arches and golden fairy lights crossing overhead from the tall hedges. Holding my hand, he pulls me around the building along the back toward a door being held open by an elf.

“Miss,” Remmy says to me in a disinterested greeting and drops his voice to a whisper. “Master Thomus, Mistress expects you in fifteen minutes. Master isn’t even dressed -”

“Don’t worry, Remmy, I will be there,” Thomus reassures them as we pass. “Mums the word about Miss Alder, remember?”

“Yes, yes, Remmy remembers,” the elf dismisses.

Thomus leads me to his room, making sure to use hallways noticeably absent of chatty portraits. A familiar route because of the many times I'd avoided them myself. The moment we’re in his room, he heads for the bathroom, already stripping. There’s a black robed suit hanging from a hook on the door.

“Please tell me you're not gonna surprise me with a ball gown, are you?” I ask, hopping up onto the bed and toeing my shoes off.

“I value my neck, thanks,” he remarks, pulling on first his suit pants, then the black button up shirt. “Would you grab me a pair of cufflinks from the closet?”

“Does it matter which one?” I ask, knowing he's got a variety.

“No.”

By the time I emerge from the closet, elegant silver M stamped cufflinks in hand, he’s already dressed. He smiles at me as I pass him the tiny pieces of metal.

“All you have to do is wait for a few hours,” he says, his mood curiously… cheerful? “Go back to sleep if you'd like - just don't leave this room. Only Remmy knows you're here.”

“Why all the fuss?” I ask, my eyes greedily taking his suited form in. I suppress the desire to pull him close by his silk tie for a kiss. He looks too suave and sophisticated and… way out of my league.

“For the simple reason that I don’t want certain guests to know you’re here,” he explains, stepping into the bathroom once again. I hear him spritz a bottle of something.

“And why is that again?”

He glides out of the bathroom, passing me by with a quick peck to my cheek. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

I completely ignore the fact he didn’t answer my question, because I’m way too distracted by his suddenly fragrant cologne. I breathe in lung-fulls of cedar and pine, trying not to swoon in his wake as he pulls out his wand to light the fireplace.

Then he’s gone, the door audibly locking behind him.

~*~

Well, I definitely try to sleep. Except I wasn’t even tired when I climbed into bed the first time.

First I change into a purple wispy nightgown with a deep vee in the neck that stops at my thighs. Then I change out of it when the frills around the short sleeves become too itchy under the covers, opting instead for a simpler one with long sleeves and a hem that falls around my ankles.

All this, just to be uncomfortable in every position I try. Nevermind the fact my mind keeps doing laps of worrying, wondering who exactly Thomus doesn’t want to know I’m here. Rodolphus? Bellatrix? Is he dancing and flirting with her while her husband tracks me down this very moment?

Finally I give up and decide to grab a handful of Thomus’ old Daily Prophets and settle on the cushioned bench in the alcove of one of his windows. I sit sideways on it, my back against the wall with the door in my line of sight.

I’m about to cast a subtle illumination spell to help my poor eyesight in this dim lighting when movement out the window catches my eye. It’s the curtains billowing out of the open doors to the ball room - or the large drawing room as Narcissa calls it. Golden light spills from windows and the doorway as the guests' shadows and silhouettes move within. Some are moving swiftly as if dancing while some are mingling. Before I can think better of it, I’m pushing open the French window closest to me.

I hear boisterous laughter and the low hum of chatter, and best of all, music drifts up to me like a leaf in the breeze. It’s the exact kind of music I’d imagine would play at a ball like this, and I can’t help but picture myself down there, in some pretty dress twirling around the room with Thomus.

I sit there, content to listen to the string quartet and people watch. Some come outside for the cool air, others to have a private word alone with each other.

Hermione is relatively easy to spot. Her black gown is ridiculously puffy around the skirt, but synched skin-tight in the bodice, and even from here I can see the jewels glittering on her chest. I’m surprised to see Draco by her side, dressed head to toe in white. They linger by the door, always surrounded by ladies vying for his attention. I can’t help but notice how his hand slowly caresses her back, almost… lovingly from her waist up to her shoulders and nape when he thinks no one is watching.

Thankfully, I don’t see Bellatrix, but I also don’t see Thomus, either. An inconsequential fact I try not to linger on.

I don’t know how long I sit like that, but eventually Thomus returns, quietly stepping into the room with two empty champagne glasses and a bottle.

“I kinda feel like Cinderella wanting to go to the ball,” I say softly as he approaches. He looks politely puzzled and before he can ask, I explain, “It’s just a No-Maj fairytale.”

“Ah,” he hums. He takes hold of the forgotten newspapers on the other side of the bench and raises an eyebrow.

I feel a blush creep up my throat and try to keep my tone nonchalant. “I… maybe like to read your articles,” I say. “It’s crazy to think we both spent time at The Daily Prophet , but at different times so we never ran into each other.”

I feel like I’m rambling, but how could I not? He looks and smells far too dashing for me to think clearly.

“It is a bit ironic,” he says, replacing his papers where I’d gotten them from before returning. He takes up the rest of the bench, his back to the window, and places the glasses and bottle on the floor next to him.

“Do you think things might’ve been different if we’d met there instead?” I ask hesitantly, knowing all too well his opinions on ‘what if’s. “Before?”

Thomus sighs heavily and the air puffs out his cheeks. He raises an eyebrow and gives me a sideways look. “Honestly?”

I nod. “Yeah, always.”

“Hm, I think…” his mouth downturns as he speaks, his voice betraying his amusement. “I’d find you the most annoying person on the planet.”

A disbelieving laugh bursts out. “What?!”

He nods, completely solemn. “Oh yeah, always asking questions, always bothering me.”

“Oh no, I’d have to talk to you about our job ,” I say with dramatic sarcasm, trying and failing to keep the smile off my face. “Oh no, what a nightmare.”

Thomus grabs my ankle, lifting my foot so he can shift closer, until my calf rests on his opposite thigh. That hand slides from my ankle all the way up my leg, and I’m disappointed it’s not under my nightgown. “It would have been an absolute nightmare to have you prance into my office every bloody day,” he continues as his fingers meet the crease at my hip and wedge themselves in. Then they keep traveling and grip all the plentiful flesh there. “I’d never be able to get any work done because I’d constantly be thinking about bending you over my desk.”

My eyes run laps over the sharp lines of his face, trying to determine if he’s serious. “Is that so?”

Thomus’ eyes drop to my mouth, his free hand brings his thumb to brush my lower lip. “These would be the worst. With every meddlesome question you ask, I’d only be able to think about how they’d taste.”

I’m holding my breath - my heart thudding, my ears burning. I’m suddenly very unnecessarily conscious of how far my glasses have slipped down my nose, the cool breeze from the window across my chest, and how heavy I’m breathing over his thumb. And for some reason his accent is doing funny things to my insides right now, of all times.

His voice is low, husky, and oh, so hot. “I’d be thinking about how you’d sound when I touched you. And yes, I say when . I could only endure such torture for so long before I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

I snort, a disbelieving smile breaking out under his thumb. “You make me sound like some kind of irresistible vixen.” A chuckle rumbles out of his chest, but I keep going. “Well, I have good news for you - I wouldn’t object to any of that.”

“Is that so?” His hand caresses from my jaw to my neck.

I bite my lip to control my grin. “Well, yeah. Why do you think I’d be bothering you so much in the first place?”

Thomus lets out a breathy chuckle and sits back, his eyes crinkling in the corners. I can only stare, mesmerized by seeing genuine happiness on his face.

“So,” I say brightly. “Are you enjoying this party you put so much effort into preparing?”

His smile fades. “Not as much as I ought to, I suppose.”

“Oh, why not?” I ask, placing my hand over his one on my neck, feeling along the lines of his knuckles and fingers.

“The people down there…” he starts, eyes gazing out the window, “the only thing I’ve ever been to them is a source for gossip and scandal. And then the few who look past all that see the Malfoy name and nothing else.”

I let that process. “So what you’re saying is you’re a real catch?”

He bursts out laughing, the hand from my hip reaching up to scratch his chin. “Yeah, for those desperate to social climb.”

“So you’re a desperately eligible bachelor ?” I tease with a bit more drama to my tone. “How interesting. All the finest debutantes must be lining up down there, so what ever are you doing up here with me?”

“I’m a little old for debutantes.” He settles toward me into a more relaxing position, pulling his knee up and pressing his calf onto the bench under my thighs. With his face closer to mine now, his softly spoken words are loud and clear. “And besides, your company is vastly preferable over theirs.”

My face floods with heat and I crumble under his direct eye contact. My mouth suddenly feels as dry as the desert while I’m forced to figure out some kind of intelligent reply. “Quite shocking, really,” I say, my voice a whisper until I clear my throat, swallowing down some nerves. “Who wouldn’t want to hang out with the wizarding world’s most crankiest?”

He laughs again. “Are you talking about me or them?”

I’m about to answer, but a dull tapping sound coming from the party draws my attention. The guests are returning inside, tapping their wands against their champagne glasses.

“Ten minutes to midnight,” Thomus explains. “Lucius and Narcissa are about to make their toast.”

I slip my other hand around the one he has at my neck, both of mine cradling it near my chest as I glance at the clock on his mantle. “I guess that means you have to go?”

“Probably,” he admits slowly. “But I’m here.”

“Hold on, speaking of being here, isn’t Draco supposed to be in Switzerland?” I jut in, my eyes easily finding him and Hermione on the edge of the crowd.

“He is and Lucius is absolutely furious,” he sighs. “I can’t believe he’d be so foolish.”

“Well, it's obvious, right?” I ask, side-eying him, unsure if this is something I could even talk about. “He’s like, really into Hermione.”

A few moments tick by in silence as I stare at the crowd below. I glance at him to see his eyes had been on me the whole time, his expression pensive. When our eyes meet, he holds them for a moment before his gaze follows his hand as both of his gently hold mine instead. He pulls back my left sleeve, his fingers lightly tracing his name inked on my skin. Then he goes further, tracing the white puckered lines of the scar Bellatrix left me.

“What’re you thinking about?” I whisper.

His lips curl ruefully. “I’m thinking about how much of a hypocrite I am. I’ve called him foolish when here I am,” he says. “Unable to stay away.”

“From what?” I breathe, feeling stupid the moment I finish. My heart is beating so hard I wonder if he can feel my pulse where he holds my arm.

Thomus’ eyes hold on my arm, avoidant of my own. His voice is soft like he's telling me a secret. “I snuck you in tonight because I couldn’t bear not spending it with you.”

My eyebrows come together and I feel my head shake. “It’s just another year.”

“No,” he says, his eyes flashing up to mine, adamant. “Moments like these are important, to spend with those who are important. That’s why they’re all gathered down there, isn’t it? To go into the New Year praising the Dark Lord’s reign, congratulating themselves for their accomplishments this year.” He looks back down at our hands, at his name. “I know I don’t have much to celebrate in that regard, but I do know that you’re important to me… and frankly I'm tired of pretending otherwise.”

I can only stare at him. Unable to think, unable to breathe . How could he say something like that?

When I finally have to draw breath after what feels like an eternity, I only get to say his name. “Thomus -”

The loud popping of fireworks bursts from below, along with some cheer that has me turning my gaze away only briefly. I turn back and Thomus’ mouth descends on mine.

The kiss is full and wonderful, but short. He pulls back inches away to search into my gaze, like he’s asking for permission, like he’s making sure what he just said was okay.

It was more than okay. It’s exactly what my heart wants to hear, even though my own stubborn insecurities push doubt into my mind.

I can’t say anything back. I can’t tell him how I feel.

But I can show him.

Our lips meet again in a rush. At least it feels like that to me, like we just can’t bare being apart anymore. I pour my heart and soul into this kiss. My hands find their way into his hair, his caress and grip every part of my body he can reach.

Soon I’m pushing him back so I can climb onto his lap. He’s pulled up my nightgown and the cool air feels amazing on my bare legs. I’ve got one foot on the floor and the other is bent at the knee, helping control my balance while I’m grinding on him.

He keeps pulling me to him, my weight rocking into him, and I brace a hand on the wall in the bay window as he falls further back, keeping me upright. His hands slip under my nightgown, roaming my thighs. I adjust my hips, feeling brave enough to put both hands on his chest to steady me. His suit pants can’t hide how hard he is. I try to use that as a reminder he’s genuinely into me. No matter how many times I’m in his lap, it’s still hard to believe he wants me here.

“How long till you have to go back?” I ask with controlled breaths.

He growls. “Just fuck me, baby.” His fingers painfully dig into my hips as he pulls me down, undulating his hips against me. “I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

There are things I want to blurt out, simple little words swelling in my chest that threaten to ruin everything.

But if I confess how I feel, it wouldn’t change anything. I’ll still be his prisoner. His possession.

I don’t wanna be an object. I long to be more .

My hands slide up his chest to meet at his neckline, shoving my fingers into the knot on his tie. I don’t bother pulling it all the way off before I go at his buttons, not stopping until his muscled chest and abdomen are revealed. My hips rock, rubbing my pussy over his cock straining to be let free.

Then I jump up, standing to shimmy my undies to the floor. Thomus sits up and shrugs off his suit jacket, pulling off his tie completely. I pause, waiting to return to my seat, but then he looks at me, his eyes raking me up and down.

“I want that off,” he says, referring to the only article of clothing I have left.

I struggle not to make a face, because I still have a hard time being completely naked in front of him. If we were in bed, that would be different. This just feels too exposed.

I grip the material around my hips and step toward him. “Take it off for me?” I ask.

Lust-filled eyes lock on mine and his hands go to my thighs, sliding them up my sides, taking the gown with them. I raise my arms to help him pull it off the rest of the way and a blast of cool air from the window makes goosebumps rise all over me. It sends a shiver through my body and my nipples harden.

When my arms are free, I step even closer and cup his face, pressing my lips to his. I kiss him softly, from one corner of his mouth to the other. While I distract his mouth with sweet kisses, one hand takes off my glasses and the other goes to his belt.

Of course, I can only use one brain cell at a time, so my mouth becomes distracted when I struggle with undoing his belt. I just pull my mouth away all together so I can get a visual on my hands. I glance up at Thomus’ face to find his heated gaze focused on mine.

“Sorry,” I mutter, looking down at the matter at hand. “Not very sexy, I know.”

“Oh, on the contrary,” he says and inhales sharply when my hands finally wrap around his swollen cock. My palms glide up and down gently before giving it a firm squeeze. My thumb circles his head, spreading a bead of pre-cum, and he leans forward, lips and tongue tracing a path from my neck to my breasts. One of his big hands cups my breast and when he immediately bites down on my nipple, I gasp and whimper. His tongue soothes away the pain, swirling around the stiff peak.

His other hand slides down my thigh, fingers feeling the dimples and divots until they hook behind my knee. My hands go to his shoulders for balance as he lifts my foot until it’s on the bench. His fingers quickly glide back up my thigh, this time underneath it to where it’s most sensitive and softest.

Thomus’ lips release my nipple and he pulls back enough to see my face. “I think you’re very sexy,” he murmurs. “From this pretty little pussy of yours” - his fingers glide through my folds, teasingly spreading the slipperiness from the center to my clit - “to those lips I just can’t seem to get enough of.”

His thumb presses in on my clit and my train of thought struggles to stay on track. “You’re pretty hot too,” I say breathily. “You’ve got these shoulders and thighs and hands that just -” My words are cut off by a moan when he slips two fingers inside me.

“That just what?” he teases, unmistakably smug.

It takes me a moment to answer because his thumb in combination with his fingers curling against my g-spot have my hips rocking and my brain turning to mush. My breaths come in short pants and my eyes are pinched closed, focused on riding the pleasurable waves his fingers are orchestrating.

“Concentrate, darling,” he presses. “Answer me.”

“Hands,” I gasp, my fingers digging into his shoulders, “hands that do terrible… awful things to me.”

His fingers turn aggressive, pressing harder and rhythmic as he hums in approval. “That’s a good girl.”

His lips return to my nipple and that pushes me past the point of no return. A stream of curses and Thomus’ name tumble from my mouth. My toes curl and my body goes stiff as my orgasm washes over me. Thomus slows his long fingers, but still presses in hard on my g-spot as my pussy pulses around him.

When I can finally breathe again, I push at Thomus’ shoulders and he leans back, bringing his drenched digits up to his mouth. He groans at my taste and resituates himself on the bench, pushing his pants and briefs past his thighs. I’m still dazed from my orgasm when Thomus pulls me on top of him. He holds his cock at the base and guides me until he’s sliding home, deep inside my pussy.

“Oh fuck,” I moan, my eyes closing. This position never fails to put him as deep inside as possible, and if I really sit on his lap, he’s hitting my cervix. But that would be painful, so instead I move my hips around slowly, figuring out what angle works best and won’t kill my thighs. One particular move makes him groan and my eyes flutter open to find his locked intently on me, watching my body move. I definitely found the right one.

I start to go a little faster, a little harder. I have a hand on a window pane and the other grasping his shoulder to stabilize me. My thighs are burning, but the pain isn’t enough to make me stop. He’s inside me, and I love being connected like this. What I feel for him never feels more real than it does in moments like this. When I can’t be in denial.

With the increasing intensity of my hips, little whimpers start to tumble from my mouth alongside my panting. My bottom lip is nailed between my teeth and as I can feel my orgasm hurtling towards me, fuck is the only word coming out of my mouth.

Whenever he feels they could use more attention, his hands never fail to stray to my breasts. Supporting them as they bounce and sway, leaning forward to kiss and nibble at my nipples.

“So fucking beautiful,” I hear him grind out above the steady and erotic sound of our bodies joining.

My orgasm is close - so, so close. I’m starting to go crazed, desperate to cum again. Thomus is, too. I can hear it in his voice as he groans.

“Baby, I need you to cum on me.” His voice is strained like he’s in utter agony.

I let out a frustrated whimper as I pause to grind on his lap, hoping for an angle that hits my clit.

“I need - can you - ?” I gasp out.

I don’t even have to finish my sentence before his fingers wiggle in under my belly. My pussy’s so slippery, the pads of his fingers find the hood of my clit and press in, rubbing it in circles. My hips jerk, bouncing up and down on his cock, continuing even as my orgasm finally crashes over my body. I throw my head back as my back arches. His body stiffens below me as he cums, groaning out his pleasure.

“Beautiful darling, well done,” he pants with praise after we both have a chance to breathe, his voice shaking. “I lov-”

Thomus is abruptly cut off by loud banging on his door.

We both jump like we’ve been hit. There’s a moment where our eyes meet and I see panic cross his face just as it does on mine.

“Thomus!” a familiar man’s voice calls from beyond the door.

Thomus blinks, his expression hardening. He brings a finger up to his lips, warning me to be quiet. “Closet,” he whispers. “Go. Now.”

Nodding, my legs are like jelly as I push myself off of him. He’s hastily throwing on his suit as I bend to scoop up my nightgown and undies. I dash for the closet. It’s dark enough I can just hide behind the open door. Instead of the nightgown though, I opt for my pants and hoodie. Plus a pair of Thomus’ socks while I’m at it because mine are lost in the sheets somewhere.

While I’m desperately dressing, the man at the door calls for Thomus again. “Where have you been, Thomus? I’ve been sent to fetch your ungrateful ass.”

I squeeze behind the closet door to peek through the crack between the hinges just as Thomus strides to the door. He’s fully dressed and smoothing back his hair with his fingers. He pauses to take a deep breath before opening the door.

It’s Rodolphus.

“What do you want,” Thomus demands, sounding amazingly composed.

Rodolphus leans a hand on the doorframe. “You missed your brother’s toast,” he says, a mocking lilt to his tone. His hair is disheveled, the tie to his tux hangs loose around his neck. “How could you have missed this moment to show support for the Dark Lord? Your family? ”

“I don’t answer to you,” Thomus says. He keeps his back straight and his chin up.

Rodolphus puts a finger to his chin, tapping it. “And then I remembered a few other times you’ve mysteriously disappeared from similar events,” Rodolphus continues before abruptly shoving past Thomus into the room. Thomus tries grabbing his coat tails, but he somehow avoids him.

Rodolphus stops in the middle of the room, eyeing it while slowly turning back to Thomus. He inhales heavily through his nose and steps back towards the window with the bench. “A moment ago, I was convinced you were up here fucking my wife,” he says casually. He reaches for something on it and my anxiety explodes in my chest the moment I see him pick up my glasses. “Of course, I was only half-right. This room reeks of sex, but my wife has never hid.”

Rodolphus drops my glasses and stomps on them with his shoe, crushing my lenses under his sole. The glass crunches as he turns, backing up towards the closet. Thomus watches him with furious eyes. His hands are empty, but I know in the blink of an eye he’d have his wand.

“I’m surprised you can still get it up for her since her… accident ,” Rodolphus taunts. “She’s utterly repulsing if you ask me.”

“I didn’t,” Thomus bites.

He’s so close to the closet. My fingers feel for anything on the shelf behind me and immediately feel the unmistakable smooth metal of Thomus’ shoehorn, the very one I tried to pummel him with.

Maybe New Year’s Eve kisses are good luck.

I raise it over my head as he steps to the doorway.

“Your silence is very telling,” Rodolphus chuckles as he slowly steps into the closet. I hear his footsteps on the wood floor as he disappears on the other side of the door.

I’ve shoved my anxiety down enough so I don’t panic as he reappears, wand scanning the room.

Just as he turns to me, I transfigure the shoehorn into a dagger, and hold it up to his throat.

18 notes · View notes

wordsandupstead · 1 year

Text

secrets, soup, and sassiness

summary: Set in the Unsteady storyline, but can be read as a Halstead!sister stand alone. Three different times Emma gets sick.

bingo square filled: Sick/Illness for #resa.3kfiestabingo by @resanoona

word count: 4k

masterlist

~~~

The first time Emma gets sick after moving in with Jay

What started as a dull headache in the morning turned to a pounding headache and pain in the back of her neck by the time school finished. Emma thought it wasn’t a big deal and asked a friend for Advil at lunch, it helped briefly but by the time the final bell rings, Emma just wants to go home, crawl into bed, and sleep until the pain subsides.

A loud knocking on her bedroom door wakes her, but the pain in her head hits nearly as fast. Emma can barely get her bearings before she realizes she feels so nauseous she thinks she’s going to throw up. She doesn’t think she can make it to the bathroom, so she rushes over to the trash bin in the corner of her bedroom. Nothing comes up, but she feels so exhausted she plops down on the floor near the trash bin, her back against the wall.

“Emma? Are you in there?” Jay’s muffled voice floats through her closed bedroom door.

It takes a few seconds for Emma to gather the energy to respond. “Yeah.”

“Oh,” She hears Jay’s voice from the other end. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Not hungry.”

“Did you eat already?”

“Yeah,” She lies, “I’m just finishing my homework.”

“Uh okay,” Jay’s voice comes from the other side of the door. He still hasn’t opened it, and since Emma doesn’t have the energy to stand and walk over there, they’ve been speaking through the closed door. “Just come out if you’re hungry.”

Emma falls back asleep almost immediately after making it back to bed and when she wakes up again, it’s after ten pm. She uses the bathroom quickly, splashing water on her face before going to sleep again.

The next morning, when her alarm goes off for school, she just silences it. Jay pounds on the door again, telling her she’ll be late to school if she doesn’t wake up. She drags herself out of bed and gets dressed, despite the fact that her headache feels worse than it did the day before. Emma barely manages to eat half a piece of toast, just so she can take another Advil and hope to get through the school day.

Emma manages to stay awake through her first two periods, but can’t help but keep dozing off during chemistry. Her teacher notices and sends her to the nurse despite Emma’s insistence that she’s fine.

Even though the nurse asks about her symptoms, Emma doesn’t admit to not feeling well. The nurse checks her temperature, although Emma tries to tell her that she is fine. When the thermometer reads 101.2, the nurse tells her she has to go home and offers to let Emma call a parent to sign her out, which is what most teenagers prefer to do. When Emma hesitates a little too long, then asks if she can just sign herself out and go home, the nurse call’s Jay to inform him of what’s going on.

By the time Emma gets called into the office from the nurse when Jay arrives, Emma has worked herself into a silent panic, which is only making her feel worse overall. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Jay asks as soon as she enters the front office to find him standing there waiting for her. When she doesn’t answer, he thanks the front office staff and he holds the door open then follows her outside.

As soon as they’re out of the office, Emma immediately begins apologizing, catching Jay by surprise. “I’m so sorry for making you leave work.”

“Are you not sick?” He questions, seeming confused, he glances at Emma then back at the office doors, wondering if he got the right information.

“I’m fine.” Emma lies.

“The nurse said you had a fever. She said she tried to give you Advil, but you said you already took some?”

“Yeah, I uh just had a headache this morning.” Emma responds trying to downplay how bad she’s actually feeling. “My chem teacher made me go to the nurse because she said I looked sick, but I’m fine. I promise.”

Jay has to agree with Emma’s chemistry teacher. Even though emma continues to say she’s fine, she looks pale, especially in the sunlight. She has dark circles under her eyes, and Jay noticed the way she seemed to have a hard time just standing and talking to him. Jay reaches his hand toward her and she flinches away. He freezes, before asking, “Can I feel your forehead? I just want to see if you feel warm.”

“I guess.” She shrugs and remains still.

He gently presses his palm against her forehead, then nods and says, “You definitely have a fever.”

“I’m fine.” Emma repeats. “I’m sorry for making you leave work. I can just walk home so you can go back to work. I just needed an adult to sign me out.”

Jay looks at her like she’s not making any sense, and finally he says, “I’m not making you walk home with a fever.” Like it’s the most absurd thing he’s heard. “C’mon,” Jay says, leading the way across the parking lot, toward his truck.

Emma hesitates, but eventually follows him and gets in the truck. She doesn’t feel well, at all, and she wants nothing more than to fall asleep. She knows she was in no condition to go to school this morning, but it didn’t seem like an option to stay home and admit to Jay that she wasn’t feeling well, but now he knows.

Emma can’t help but worry Jay is upset with her, even though he doesn’t seem upset. She still feels on edge. She knows he was at work, and she knows he had to leave to come get her, and deep inside, it feels wrong. Emma had been in so many foster homes and group homes where she was treated like an inconvenience when she was sick. She was told so many times, overtly and subliminally, to not have needs, to not take too much time or energy from those who were supposed to care for her.

Despite the worry and panic, Emma holds it in well. She doesn’t have much energy left, so she curls into herself, leaning against the passenger door. Her warm forehead feels good against the cool window, and she nearly falls asleep on the drive home.

When they get there, she hops out of the truck, fully expecting him to just drive off, “Thanks for bringing me home.” She tells Jay, “I hope you didn’t lose too much time at work.”

He surprises her by getting out too, and following her into the elevator. She wants to say that he doesn’t have to walk her up, but she doesn’t want to say too much or assume to much, so she remains silent. He does too.

He unlocks the apartment door and asks, “Do you need anything?” As she’s walking to her bedroom.

“No, I’m good.” Emma immediately replies.

Jay rephrases the question, “Do you want anything?”

“No thank you.” Emma responds politely, then disappears into her room, closing the door behind her and collapsing onto the bed, every ounce of her energy used up. Emma falls asleep almost immediately.

A knocking sound pulls her from her sleep, “Emma, are you awake? I’m worried about you.” She can’t bring herself to respond. The knocking persists. After another few seconds, she hears, “I’m coming in, okay? I need to check on you. If you’re really okay, say no and I won’t come in.” There’s silence on the other end, and Emma doesn’t say anything, so the door slowly opens. When Emma opens her eyes, she sees Hailey’s blond head peeking in despite it being Jay’s voice that was coming through the door.

“Just wanted to check on you.” Hailey says softly, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.” Emma responds, her default response anytime she’s asked, although truthfully, she wasn’t usually asked very often. “Why aren’t you at work?”

Hailey looks at Emma for a moment before responding, “I’m done for the day. It’s six pm.” Emma just nods, accepting this information, so Hailey speaks again, “Jay said that the nurse checked your temperature at school and you had a fever?” She phrased it like a question, but it didn’t seem like much of a question to Emma, so she just shrugs. “Can I check your temperature?”

Emma nods, and Jay steps into the room, handing Hailey the thermometer. Hailey presses a button on it, and then hands it to Emma to take her own temperature. She does, and then hands it back to Hailey without even trying to read it. Hailey takes it, then shows the number to Jay.

“It’s 102. That means it’s probably been high most of today. Maybe we should go to the hospital.” Jay says once he sees the number.

Emma immediately freezes up, and both Hailey and Jay notice.

It only lasts a second before she seems to snap out of it. “I’m fine. I can take another Advil.” She insists, but her voice shakes, and Jay and Hailey exchange a look about her sudden change in attitude.

“You’ve been taking Advil. It hasn’t been working.”

“I can take three this time so it works.”

“No, you can’t.” Jay responds, shaking his head.

Tears start forming in Emma’s eyes, “Please don’t make me go. I’ll be fine. I promise. You won’t even know I’m sick.”

Jay’s eyebrows knit together, and he studies Emma closely. He can tell she’s panicking, but he doesn’t fully understand why. He doesn’t understand why she’s so insistent that she’s not sick when she is very clearly sick. “What are you talking about?” He questions aloud. “We just want you to feel better. We don’t want you to pretend not to be sick.”

“I’m fine. I promise. I really would just like to sleep, please.” Emma pleads, and Jay can tell she’s barely holding it together, but he still doesn’t understand why she doesn’t want help. “Please, can I just go back to sleep?” She asks again.

Hailey looks at Jay who looks truly torn between forcing Emma to go to the doctor and respecting her wishes.

“Do you think you can eat something, maybe some soup or a piece of toast?” Hailey asks gently, tabling the doctor conversation for later.

“I’m not hungry,” Emma says, lying back down in bed, her eyes falling closed.

Hailey persists. “Emma, sweetie, you need to eat something and that way you can take another Advil.”

“Okay.” She whispers, her eyes still closed.

“What do you want? Soup, toast, we have some leftover chicken, or Jay can run out and pick up food from somewhere.”

“Yeah, anything you want.” Jay chimes in and truly at this point he would be willing to drive clear across town to get Emma anything she wanted if it meant she would eat something and feel better.

“Maybe just some bread,” Emma manages to say, although truthfully, she doesn’t want to eat anything. She just wants to go back to sleep. She wants her head to stop hurting. She wants the panic from the threat of going to the doctor to subside.

Hailey remains in Emma’s room while Jay leaves to get the bread and Advil. Jay adds some peanut butter to a slice of bread and folds it in half, hoping she’ll get some protein in because he realizes she probably didn’t eat dinner the night before. She was in her room when he came home from work and had said she’d eaten, but Jay is starting to realize she probably wasn’t feeling well from the night before. He just doesn’t understand why she would keep it a secret and go to school if she was sick.

By the time he returns with the peanut butter sandwich, Emma had fallen back asleep again. They have to wake her up to eat the sandwich. She only eats a few bites, but it’s better than nothing. They give her two Advil and hope it helps to bring the fever down.

When she’s asleep again, they leave the room, leaving the door open a crack so they can check on her.

The distinctive sound of whimpering and sniffling comes from Emma’s room. Jay and Hailey had been curled up on the couch together watching tv with the sound turned almost all the way down, not wanting to disturb Emma, but not wanting to close her bedroom door either, just in case. Jay jumps up first, but Hailey is only steps behind him as he closes the distance to Emma’s room. “Emma?” Jay softly asks, stopping in her doorway, pushing the door further open.

He can see her tangled in her sheets and blankets. She’s not moving, but they can still hear the sounds of her sobs, “Em?” Jay asks again, this time crossing the threshold of the bedroom. As he gets closer, repeating Emma’s name again, he realizes she’s not awake. He glances back at Hailey, her concerned expression mirroring his.

“She’s sleeping.” He whispers. “Should I wake her?”

Hailey pauses, then shakes her head. “Maybe if she doesn’t wake up now, she won’t remember it when she does.”

Jay takes Hailey’s hand, squeezing. It hurts him to see her in clear distress while being unable to do anything about it. Hailey squeezes back. Emma settles down, the sobbing stops, and Jay and Hailey return to the couch.

When Emma wakes up again an hour later, she doesn’t mention the nightmare and Jay doesn’t ask. When he checks her temperature and sees the 102.3 blinking back at him, he deflates. “Your fever is still very high.” He informs her, but she doesn’t move or say anything. “I’ll be right back.” He leaves the bedroom and Hailey wanders in as Jay makes the call to Will, who answers on the third ring. Jay shares all of his concerns and relays Emma’s symptoms as best as he can, although he doesn’t have much to go off since Emma wouldn’t even admit to feeling sick.

Will advises Jay that Emma should probably see a doctor since her fever is so high and the fever reducing meds don’t seem to be working. Jay thought Will might say that, but he wanted to double check since Emma seemed so against going to the doctor.

“I don’t really want to wait until morning to schedule an appointment. We’ve already waited all day. Should I just take her to the ER tonight?” Jay questions. Never having been responsible for another person in this way before, he’s unsure of how to proceed.

“Yeah, her medical should be covered because she’s in the foster system. Just call her social worker and she should be able to give you any info you need.” Will advises. Jay thanks him and hangs up before calling the social worker. When she doesn’t answer the phone, Jay just leaves a message and decides to take her to the emergency room because he doesn’t want to wait any longer with her fever so high.

When he goes back into Emma’s room, Hailey is sitting with her and they’re watching a funny video on her phone. “Are you feeling better?” He asks, hoping the answer will be yes.

She nods, saying, “I’m good.”

But she doesn’t look good and Jay is hesitant to believe her since she hasn’t admitted to feeling anything except “good” and “fine” and Jay is confident she hasn’t been fine.

Jay grabs the thermometer and has Emma check her temperature again. When the 102.5 blinks back at him, he says, “It’s still a high fever. Let’s go to the ER.” He tries to say it casually, hoping that she doesn’t freak out, but her expression immediately changes.

“Please, no.” Emma manages to squeak out.

“Em, I know you’re not feeling good, but we have to go to the emergency room. They’ll know what to do, I promise.”

“We’ll be there with you the whole time.” Hailey gently reassures Emma.

Jay grabs Emma’s jacket from where she discarded it on the chair in the corner and brings it back to her. She’s uncharacteristically quiet, but doesn’t put up a fight at all. She just takes the jacket from Jay, barely making eye contact with either Jay or Hailey as she pulls her shoes on and follows Jay and Hailey out of the apartment and into Jay’s truck where he turns the heat way up and tries reassuring Emma that this is for the best and the doctor will make her feel better.

While waiting in the emergency room waiting room, Jay is trying to fill out the paperwork with the limited information he has available regarding history, insurance, and symptoms, but Hailey’s attention is mostly on Emma. She’s noticed the way Emma keeps clenching and unclenching her fists. She can feel the anxiety rolling off of Emma in waves, and she tries to get to the bottom of it.

“Hey Emma, are you…” She hesitates, trying to find the right words to ask the question she’s trying to ask. “Do you feel like you’re not allowed to be sick?”

Emma looks up at Hailey and makes eye contact briefly before looking away, fidgeting with her hands even more. When Emma doesn’t answer right away, Hailey tries again, “You can be honest. We won’t be upset.”

Emma nods, almost imperceptibly, and Hailey takes that as an answer to the first question.

“Did you get in trouble for being sick?” Hailey’s voice is barely above a whisper, but Emma hears her and nods again. Hailey wisely lets the silence hang in the air between them. By this point, Jay has finished filling out the paperwork and he’s looking between Emma and Hailey, having heard the questions Hailey was asking.

Emma nods, admitting, “They would be mad because they take off work to take care of me when I was sick.”

“Who would?” Hailey asks softly at the same time Jay says, “What do you mean they got mad at you for being sick? You don’t decide to get sick.” Jay’s anger starts bubbling up.

Emma’s eyes fall closed and she pulls her jacket tighter around her body before fidgeting with the zipper. She doesn’t have enough energy to respond to either of them, but all she knows is that Jay sounds upset, and she wants to disappear.

Hailey’s hand subtly finds Jay’s, squeezing gently. He takes a deep breath, “We won’t be mad at you for being sick, ever.” He finally says. “But we do want you to tell us when you’re not feeling well, so we can help, okay?”

Emma nods, but still feels uncomfortable and worries that Jay is upset. “I thought you’d be mad at me because you had to leave work.”

Jay’s voice is much softer now, “Em, I won’t ever be mad at you for feeling sick. It’s my job to take care of you when you’re sick.”

“It’s not your real job.”

“It is my real job, and it’s more important than my other job.” He reassures her.

She nods, a warmth spreading across her chest that has nothing to do with her fever. It’s been so long, Emma can hardly remember anyone caring for her like this before, but she lets herself believe this time it might actually be okay to let Jay and Hailey care about her, to let them take care of her so she doesn’t have to suffer by herself and pretend to be okay when she’s not.

The fifth time Emma get’s sick after moving in with Jay

“Hello?” Jay answers the phone as soon as he sees Emma’s name on the caller ID, knowing she’s at school and wouldn’t be calling him if it wasn't important.

“I’m sick, can you come get me?” Emma’s voice is scratchy and low as it floats through the phone

Jay immediately stands from his desk, pulling the phone briefly from his mouth, catching Hailey’s attention. “Emma’s sick.” He tells her, and Hailey nods, all the confirmation he needs to leave the district without another word to anyone, his phone still to his ear as he jogs down the steps.

“I’m coming.” He tells her. “What kind of sick?”

There’s a brief pause, “I’m really tired, and my throat hurts.”

“Okay, are you at the health room?”

“No, can you just sign me out?” Emma may have come around to telling Jay when she’s not feeling well, but her comfort level hasn’t really extended beyond that.

“Yeah, I’ll sign you out when I get there. I’m leaving the district now.”

After a few more minutes of trying to get more information about how she’s feeling and mostly failing, Jay hangs up the phone and drives the rest of the way to the school. He heads into the office and explains that he needs to pick his sister up.

When Emma enters the office, she looks ill, and Jay tries to think back to that morning, wondering if she was sick before she came to school. He doesn’t remember noticing anything different this morning, but it’s not important right now. All he’s worried about is making sure she’s okay now.

She follows him out of the office and gets into the passenger side of his truck, letting him drive her home. It doesn’t matter that she drove herself to school that morning. She wanted him to pick her up, so that’s what he did.

When they get home, Emma disappears into her room immediately getting into her bed and pulling the covers up to her chin. She doesn’t bother closing her bedroom door, so Jay tries to be quiet as he moves around the kitchen. He knows enough about Emma now to know that when she’s sick, she prefers soup from the can. Since Emma called right before lunch period, he knows she hasn’t eaten, so he starts warming up the soup. Twenty minutes later, he lightly knocks on her open bedroom door. When she rolls over in bed, he knows she’s awake, so he says, “I brought you soup.”

“From the can?” She asks.

Jay nods, stepping inside with the soup, “Of course.”

He carefully hands her the soup and waits as she starts eating. After she’s had a few bites, he asks, “How are you feeling?”

“My throat hurts when I swallow and I feel like I haven’t slept in four days.” She admits.

“Any other symptoms?” Jay questions, “Fever?”

She just shrugs, and Jay disappears to retrieve the thermometer from the bathroom cabinet. He checks her temperature and it reads a low grade fever.

He ponders the numbers for a few seconds before saying, “Maybe we should go to the doctor.”

Emma’s eyes snap up to his.

It’s been nearly two years since she moved in with Jay, but there are some things that still linger. She’s not nearly as afraid of doctors anymore, and she’s clearly more willing to admit when she’s not feeling well, but that doesn’t mean she likes going to the doctor.

“It might be strep.” Jay tries explaining, but Emma continues to stare at him. He hesitates, “Maybe we can wait til tomorrow. If you’re still not feeling well, then we should go, just to get tested to make sure it’s not strep. If it is, you need antibiotics.”

She nods, eating more soup, accepting this decision. She finishes her soup and asks for juice, which Jay gladly brings her. He can’t help but cater to her more than usual when she’s not feeling well.

The first time Emma gets sick after moving to college.

When Jay’s phone starts buzzing with an incoming FaceTime from Emma, he answers immediately. It’s been a few days since he last spoke with her, but he tries to take it as a good sign, knowing that she’d call if she needed something or if she wasn’t okay.

Jay knows Emma is busy with coursework and making new friends so he tries not to call her too often, although he hasn’t put a limit on the amount of check in texts he sends.

When Emma’s face fills the screen, he smiles, “Hey Em, what’s up?”

“I’m walking to the health center.” She responds, and Jay immediately feels alarm and worry creeping up. Letting Emma go to college has been just as hard for Jay as it has been for Emma, arguably even harder for Jay. He knows she’s capable and can take care of herself, but he can’t help but wish she chose a school that was a little bit closer. It’s hard for him to accept that she’s growing up and he has to let her do things on her own.

“Why?” Jay asks.

“I just have a runny nose and a sore throat. I just want to get checked out because if it's the flu or something maybe I can just get some medicine.”

“Do you have your medical card? I think I have a duplicate copy of it somewhere.” Jay’s begins looking around even though he’s seated at his desk in the bullpen. He tries to remember where he put the extra card.

“Yes, I have my medical card.” Emma says with a roll of her eyes and Jay’s glad she’s not feeling too sick to be sassy.

“I can drive down tonight. We’re wrapping up a case, but it shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours. Hailey and I can come down and make a weekend of it.”

“Jay, you don’t have to. I’m fine. I’m gonna go get checked out at the health center and see what they say and then I’ll probably just sleep all weekend.”

“But who’s gonna make you soup?” Jay asks.

“It comes from a can.” Emma says with a small smile on her face, “It’s not exactly rocket science.”

Jay concedes, only because he actually does believe that Emma is just fine and that she would tell him if she wasn’t. “Okay, but the offer still stands. If you start to feel worse, or if you just want us there, call me and we can be there in two hours.”

“I will.” Emma responds, “I just got to the health center so I’ll text you later. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Okay,” Jay responds, feeling a sense of pride in how far Emma has come. He remembers a time when she would have a panic attack and completely shut down at even the mention of going to the doctor and now she’s willingly going on her own because she knows it’ll help her feel better.

He gets back to work, already mentally mapping out his weekend. Even though Emma seemed fine, he knows he and Hailey will probably make the four hour round trip at least once this weekend even if it’s just to check in and heat her up some soup.

#jay halstead #jay halstead x hailey upton #upstead #halstead!sister #chicago pd #unsteaedy #resa.3kfiestabingo

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