#crack. — ⋮⋮ ❝ now... let's go practise medicine. ❞

[delcakoo]

like a fever ༊*·˚ y.jw

ᵎᵎ PAIRING ! jungwon x gn!reader

ᵎᵎ WC ! 1.5k

ᵎᵎ GENRE ! est relationship, fluff n crack

ᵎᵎ WARNINGS ! miraculous ladybug. (def didn’t use this fic as an excuse to rant about it)

ᵎᵎ SUMMARY ! when jungwon comes home from practise to find you and a mountain of tissues on the floor, he’s ready to make you soup and watch terrible cartoons all night.

a/n: im so smart w the title B) anyways you guys are too nice, thank you for all the love on my other posts :(

you blew your nose for what felt like the thousandth time today. the mountain of used tissues in the garbage can next to you only grew the longer you sat on the floor, suffering in your boyfriends shirt alone.

how did you get sick? great question. perhaps it was the student next to you in math who kept sneezing a suspicious amount of times, or it could’ve been your fellow employee at work who had disappeared into the bathroom for the rest of their shift, leaving you to deal with annoying customers alone. whatever it was, you’d definitely caught something.

you were a bit frustrated with your body's weak immune system, because usually when a certain someone got home from dance practise, you’d have dinner ready for him after all the hard work. but now, you felt like you’d fall right back down if you attempted to move at all.

speaking of jungwon, you recognise the sound of his keys jingling in the locks, humming a quiet tune. you continue to bask on the floor like a starfish, but quickly make sure to raise your head slightly so you can see his handsome face right away. when he opens the door, he practically throws his jacket and bucket hat on the rack, pulling off his shoes with his feet alone. “i told you that’s how you ruin your shoes.” you scold, grabbing another tissue and making an elephant like sound from across the room.

jungwon’s head whips to your voice’s direction, morphing into confusion and slight amusement at the sight of your current position. “baby? what are you doing on the floor? we have a perfectly functioning couch and bed the last time i checked.” he giggles cutely, but quickly stops when he notices the bin full of tissues. “jesus, are you sick jagi? do you want soup? or medicine? or wanna make me watch those stupid cartoons again?” he bombards you with questions worriedly.

you sniffle as the boy kneels down and helps you sit up, massaging your shoulders gently. “the floor feels nice and cold on my back.” you explain, “and yes please, i wanna watch miraculous again.”

he nods, gesturing for you to lift your arms so he can pick you up. “i am not letting you sit on the floor, you can have some ice cream to cool you down after you eat.” he holds you tightly in his arms before placing you on the couch, grabbing the remote and scrolling until he finds the show. once you pick an episode, he leaves for the kitchen quickly, ready to begin making you a snack.

you appreciate jungwon, you really do. but the caregiver in you can’t help but feel concerned even now. your boyfriends schedule had no time for dilly dallying, and you had to stress about feeling almost like a nuisance to be taking up his precious time for rest. “baby,” you called. in a split second he’s next to you again.

“yeah? do you need anything?”

you shake your head. “it’s just— are you sure you’re okay? maybe you should go to sleep, you’ve been working way too hard and i can ju-“ before you can finish, jungwon plants a kiss to your lips softly.

“don’t even finish that sentence. you’re always caring for me every single day, and i hate how i’m always too busy to repay you. now let me be the one babying you for a change.” you gulp shyly, nodding, and he smiles that adorable smile of his before running back into the kitchen.

only a few minutes (and tissues) later, jungwon returns with two bowls of chicken noodle soup and a box of crackers. “finally, my baby’s here.” you say, and jungwon feels happiness shoot through him at your words. that is, until he notices you eyeing the soup as if it were a pot of gold.

“yah, i’m supposed to be your baby.” he pouts, handing you the bowl reluctantly.

you giggle mischievously, taking another spoonful of noodles. “sorry jungwon.”

he gasps. “why are we on a first name basis now? who helped you off the floor when you were acting like a grandma? me or the soup!?”

at his complaints, you laugh harder. “okay okay, sorry baby.” his smile returns at that, pulling you closer as you both enjoy your soup. despite probably being considered too “old” for cartoons, you absolutely loved them. you always made jungwon watch them with you, and he didn’t care too much as long as he got to cuddle you the whole time.

however, he couldn’t deny that the show you were currently watching was absolutely terrible, to him at least. you began watching it last week — which meant that he inevitably would have to as well — and it was probably the most agonising week of his life. the characters were all stupid and had no development, the plot made no sense, and it was so repetitive.

“how do even children enjoy this garbage?”

you, who currently had their nose in a tissue as usual, shot up to meet your boyfriends eyes in disbelief. “what do you mean? it’s so good! i have to keep watching until marinette and adrien finally figure out each others secret identities!”

he scoffs. “you really think they’re going to let that happen? they have to milk at least six more seasons out of this nonsense first.” you look at him with brows furrowed, and he continues. “every episode is just the same thing, jagi. it can go on forever. everyday a new villain for ladybug to defeat then hawkmoth goes ‘i’ll get them next time’ but we all know he never will. and did you see all the new miraculous in the new trailer? they can just keep adding new heroes too, leading to more merch and dumb toys and all in all more money for them.” by the end of his tangent, your boyfriend releases a big breath.

you sit there, attention fully on the boy next to you with a mouthful of noodles. “wow, i think you’re more obsessed with this show than me.”

“just stating the obvious.”

you shrug in response. “whatever you say, i still think chat noir’s pretty cool.” 

jungwon swears he hurt his neck with how fast he whipped back to gaze at you. “eh? are you telling me i have to compete with a famous, rich actor and model who is also a superhero of paris at night!?” he inquires desperately. 

you bend over, starting to giggle uncontrollably at his genuinely distressed face. “well..” you begin. 

he begins to tickle you. “what is it then, the blonde hair? i’ll contact my stylist right now if it’s what you want!” you cackle, watching as jungwon begins to laugh himself, his eyes turning into soft crescents. “yah, this isn’t funny!

after more tickling and jungwon complaining about every scene of every episode, it was time for you to have your medicine. which you were not excited for. you were the type of person to believe that all of the “medicine” you’d buy was just the same useless shit in different shitty forms.

maybe you were just weak, but the result of swallowing down the liquid that probably tasted like a rotting corpse was just you being even more drowsy and dead inside than before. “but it tastes so bad!” you whine, watching as your boyfriend walks back in the room, medicine and a glass of water in hand. 

“this one doesn’t,” he replies encouragingly, “it’s bubblegum flavor.” 

“you know that means nothing right? all the ‘flavors’ taste the same.” you deadpan, watching as jungwon sets both cups down next to you on the couch. 

the boy sighs, pondering on how to get you to drink it, before a genius idea comes to his mind. “if you have every drop of it, i’ll watch one more episode of miraculous with you before bed.” 

your face brightens at that, and jungwon has to stifle a laugh at your adorable childishness. “really?” he desperately wants to say no — as he doesn’t think he can get through watching another episode of that dumpster fire — but he nods anyway. it’s for your health, he decides. 

at that, you gulp, staring down at the pink liquid in disgust. you can do this for jungwon (and miraculous), you think, before taking a deep breath and chugging it down, quickly drinking the water just as fast.

you gag immediately, the horrifying taste sticking to your tongue. immediately after, jungwon scoops you up into his arms and unceremoniously flops onto the couch. holding you in his lap, he rubs your back gently, planting a kiss to your forehead. “you did so well, see? i knew you could do it.” 

still in jungwons lap, you smack your mouth, trying to recover from the sour taste. “miraculous please.” 

“aish.. i was hoping you’d forget.”

© delcakoo on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, cross post, copy, etc.

#delcakoo #jungwon fluff #jungwon fics #jungwon imagines #jungwon drabbles #jungwon imagine #jungwon scenarios #yang jungwon fics #yang jungwon imagines #enhypen fics #enhypen imagines #jungwon x reader #jungwon x you #jungwon x y/n #yang jungwon x y/n #jungwon fic #enhypen fic #enhypen fluff #enhypen x gender neutral reader #enhypen x y/n #enha x y/n #enha fics #enha fluff #enha imagines #enha x reader

[softquietsteadylove]

I've got some request for Doctors AU, I've watched this scene on Grey's Anatomy. Thena's doing a surgery and Gil reminding her that it's time to take her meds, he's also holding some food. Thena walks through him and grumble while being fed by him.

Some cute, soft, quiet moment for them pls plus the interns being confused if they're married or not.

Thank you!!!

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZS8PCpH8B/

"Okay, and one...two...three!"

Thena and Ikaris both bear down on the patient, Ikaris using his weight to reset the bone in question, Thena holding down the body to minimise the aftershock damage to the socket. It's a sickening sound, but they both laugh a little at the good sign.

One of the interns gags quietly.

"Please," Thena rolls her eyes at them, the last person interested in sparing their feelings. "You're training to be doctors and you're going to flinch at the sound of a hip joint?"

Ikaris looks at Thena as if the little pack of pups isn't even present, "you really do get the worst of the whelps down here."

Thena shrugs at him, "they come here to make cash, not learn."

A hand shoots up, "I wanna learn!"

"Lesson one, don't kiss ass," Ikaris barks at them. "Now, does one of you runts want to help me with the shoulder?"

They look between them, but Thena snaps her gloves off her hands, "you are here to learn. It's almost as if it's part of your jobs here--to learn to practise medicine?"

She tosses the gloves at them, and the one who catches them instead of letting them fall to the floor, she points to, "you."

The intern sighs, visibly tucking their tail between their legs as both Thena and Ikaris glare at them. They take Thena's position at the opposite side of the bed from Ikaris.

"Just hold 'im down. I'm doin' the hard part anyway."

Thena turns as the door cracks open, revealing a certain paramedic, "Gil?"

"Sorry to interrupt," he whispers, slipping into the room. The interns make room for him by Thena's side. "How's it going?"

"Car crash, some of the other guys picked him up pretty far out of the city," Thena narrates as the intern tries not to cry as Ikaris barks at them to hold the patient steady. "He's lucky it's not worse, but bones got pretty messed up from-"

"Having his feet on the dash," both of them finish simultaneously, laughing a little as they do.

The interns look at them funny for laughing at the severity of the injuries, but their backs go straight as Thena looks at them sharply again.

"Any of you ever done that?"

They all shake their heads, and immediately she can tell at least two of them are lying. She narrows her eyes, "tell me what this guy's recovery is going to look like."

They look between themselves, although they're learning that the longer they take doing so the more they get yelled at. "Uh, six to eight weeks minimum in a full cast-"

"And that's after his post-ops are done," Ikaris interjects as he resets the shoulder with another loud and sickening crack of bone on bone. "You don't just reset a hip and then put 'em in a plaster diaper for two months."

"He's lucky the bone didn't break clear through his pelvis," Thena says, not sugarcoating it at all for the young minds in the room. They shudder, but she looks up at Gil, "you back from a run?"

"Yep," he grins at her, "and it's that time."

Thena frowns, turning over her wrist to look at her watch and then back up at him, "I can't just leave the whelps."

Gil shrugs, though, "we can do it here."

The interns begin to trade looks between themselves, a few of them seeming vaguely flustered.

"No, we can't," Thena huffs at Gil, tucked right into her personal bubble. She puts her hands on her hips, "we're in the middle of a case."

"Ikaris has it under control," Gil waves vaguely in the direction of their colleague with his hoodie pocket. "And you're not going to avoid me all day, so you might as well just let me get it over with."

A few of the interns blush.

"Gil," Thena sighs, almost seeming sheepish herself. She knows better than to try and fight him on this, "you don't have to do this, you know."

"Maybe," he neither admits nor denies, instead just sidestepping her protests, as weak as they are. "But I want to, and that's all that matters."

Even Ikaris is eyeing them occasionally while he checks over the rest of the patient's crumbled tinfoil ball of a body.

Thena sighs and rolls her eyes as loudly as possible. Gil lets her, reaching into his pockets and pulling out a pill bottle, a bundle of wax wrap, and a bottle of vitamin water.

The interns watch in shock - and maybe a little horror - as Gilgamesh first presses the pill between Thena's lips, then tips up the water for her to take a sip. Her hands remain planted on her hips, so she technically isn't handling any contamination for herself.

"And," Gil smiles as he unwraps the wax wrap, holding up a rice ball.

Thena eyes the onigiri. "Tuna?"

"Of course," he grins, holding it up for her to take a bite. She licks her lips, and he takes the liberty of grabbing a grain of rice she missed for himself.

Thena sighs, unable to keep herself from smiling, "how do you find the time to be such a good cook?"

"Just for you, dear," he chuckles, offering another bite. "How is it?"

He's not talking about the onigiri he has lovingly made and now fed to her. He's not talking about how her day is going or even how this specific patient is going for her.

Thena looks down at the leg of hers that had been impaled an increasing number of weeks ago. She's on the last week of her antibiotic and nerve suppressant medications for it, which Gil is hand feeding her for the sake of keeping her timing consistent.

Gil tucks some of her stray hair behind her ear as he offers another sip of lemonade flavoured water. The interns - and Ikaris - are still being forced to witness every sickening moment of it.

"It's okay," Thena tells Gil honestly as she's chewing. "It's still a little sore some mornings, but once I get going, it's fine."

"And you're still-"

"I'm still doing the stretches," she drones out like a teenager being asked something tedious. Gil has been more strict about her regiment than her physiotherapist, which she has told him multiple times. He only seems proud of that, though.

"Good," he grins as she finishes off the light snack. He swipes his thumb at the corners of her lips again before taking the rest of the water for himself. "Kingo and I are headed out. I'll see you tonight?"

Thena just nods, waving at him to wish him luck on his next run into the field.

Ikaris sighs roughly through his teeth, snapping off his gloves as well. "That's all we can do at the moment. From here, we get him prepped for surgery so we can look at his nerve damage and see just how hard rehabilitation is going to be."

The intern who helped him reset the bone is white as a ghost, paler than the Phantom of the ER herself.

"Go inform Ajak," Thena orders the pups, who walk out talking amongst themselves.

"I didn't know her husband could cook."

"Dude, I didn't even know he was her husband!"

"Really?--all you have to do is see them together once and you know."

Ikaris walks out behind them alongside Thena, who is rubbing sanitiser into her hands. She doesn't seem to be aware of the interns gossiping about her, or maybe she's just used to it. Ikaris has to admit that even he hadn't thought they were together. Although Sersi is always telling him he's a bit thick about this stuff.

He didn't think they were public about it, at least. But it doesn't get much more public than letting your husband hand feed you a home cooked lunch in front of the interns.

#Thenamesh Doctor AU #before I even saw the clip #I knew exactly what you were talking about #this is a very cute scene #admittedly Thena isn't a surgeon but I still wanted to write this #Thena is...the queen of oblivious #she and Gil are just like that #as far as she's concerned #yeah he makes her lunches #and sometimes he feeds her if her hands are full #and yeah he calls her honey and dear and sweetheart #and yeah they spend every possible moment together #and yeah everyone knows this about them #but she doesn't see why that makes people think they're together #like... #sure jan #anyway Ikaris goes home like #when did Thena and Gil get married? #and Sersi spits her tea out and gapes at him like WHAT?!?!!?!

[anglophiletraveler]

Chapter 31 of In My Life

Chapter 31

I Love You Just The Way You Are

By Billy Joel

The Weekend Part 2!

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

Hmmmm what is our favourite couple up to?  They’ve been having a fun and loving weekend and it continues onto Sunday morning.  Thanks always to everyone who supports me and this adventure of mine.  Special thanks to Karen Bockius for continuing to be my beta for this story, however she hasn’t read this bit yet, I wanted to keep it as a surprise for her, and also Happy Birthday Karen!  Your Eagles won!

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

Ross woke the next morning to the sound of a text notification on his phone.  He reached for Demelza but then heard her playing on the cello. The sound of Demelza’s cello always made him smile.  He looked at the phone and saw that it was his mother texting, so he called her back.  He let out a big yawn and stretched his long body.

“Morning Ross, did I wake you?”

“No, well yeah, but it’s time I was getting up anyway.  Demelza’s downstairs practising.”

“I never know what time to call you in the mornings.”

“You’re fine mum, no worries.  How are you feeling?”

“Oh pretty good.  Friday they got my latest test results back and made me go into the hospital for fluids because I was a little dehydrated.”

“Oh mum ya gotta take care of yourself!  How long were you there?”

“Just eight hours.  And I do take care of myself Ross!  I drink plenty of water everyday.  I don’t know how I get dehydrated. I hate the taste of water.”

Ross smiled.  He knew that his mum had never liked the taste of water.  “Well have you tried getting some of that flavoured powder mix that you can put in water?  Demelza uses those because she’s not crazy about the taste of water either.”

“Oh I keep forgetting to put them on the damn shopping list.  I’ll be glad to get the surgery and get these two lumps of skin lobbed off.  I’m tired of worrying about them, and I’m tired of everyone else worrying about them,” Grace was almost in tears by now.

Ross closed his eyes.  He hated hearing the frustration in his mother’s voice.  “I know mama.  I’d give anything if you weren’t going through this.  I really wish that you would reconsider and start seeing an oncologist up here in London.”

“Ross, I’m really perfectly happy with my doctors down here.  London is too far away, and the doctors are just as good down here.  Now, enough about me.  How are you and Demelza getting along?”

“Fine, fine.” He stopped talking on the phone to make sure Demelza was still practising before he continued talking with his mum.  “I finally broached the subject of kids with her yesterday.”

“Oh wow.  How did that go?”

“Alright.  Kind of like I thought.  She’s not sure if she wants children, because of raising her brothers and her career.  She said that she really hasn’t thought about it that much, which I believe.  She said she would give it some thought.  But mom, just so you know… I told her that I wanted to be with her whether she wanted kids or not.”

“Oh.   Darling, that’s… that’s a big statement.  Can you live with that?” Ross noticed that Grace’s voice cracked.

Ross bit his lip, “I, I think so. I don’t want to lose her mum.  I’m sorry, I know that’s not what you want to hear… but for now that’s where things stand on the subject.  I also mentioned to her about getting a bigger place, because this place is just so small with the two of us.  I need a bigger office and she needs a better practise space.”

There was silence on the line and then Ross noticed a sniffle from Grace like she was trying not to cry.  He knew this would upset his mum and it killed him to hear like this.

“Mum?”

“I’m still here.  Well that’s a big decision, and it’s not one that you absolutely have to make today.  And I coulda told ya that you two needed a bigger place!  Well, I have to go take my medicine.  I’ll talk to you in a couple days.  Love you.”

“I love you too mum.”  Ross heard the click on her end.  He felt horrible. He could tell that she was in a hurry to get off the phone with him.  Maybe he should’ve waited to tell his mum about his talk with Demelza yesterday.  He knew how much she wanted grandkids, and the thought of not ever having any probably hit her pretty hard. The mother and son have just always been so close and he’s always been able to tell her almost anything, but maybe he should’ve waited on this.  He noticed that Demelza stopped playing, and heard her footsteps on the stairs.

Demelza padded her way into the bedroom with two mugs of coffee in one hand and a mug of hot tea in the other and a smile on her face, “Morning! Coffee, tea or meeee!”

Ross laughed at Demelza’s play on the phrase, “Mmmm I’ll take you every time!  Along with the coffee!  Thank you gorgeous!”  Demelza carefully leaned down and kissed him good morning.  She couldn’t help but squeal when she felt something pinch her bottom, “Well, you are very welcome!”  She took a sip of her tea and Ross was enjoying his coffee.  

She heard a moan of approval from Ross when he took a drink, “Oh I hope that means I finally got it right?  Is it good?” Demelza asked.  

“It’s perfect, thank you,” Ross answered back.  “Oh good!  I don’t know why I’m so challenged at making coffee in that machine.  I think we need to get a new one.  Did I hear you talking with someone earlier?”

“Yes, mama called to check in.  She’s more than ready to have her surgery over and done with.  I still wish that she would come up to London and have her surgery here,” Ross was worried that his mum wasn’t getting the best care possible in Truro and had asked her a couple of times to have her treatment in London.  Because you know, everything is better in London.

“Oh Ross, I don’t blame her.  She has doctors that she’s comfortable with and doesn’t want to leave them for people she doesn’t know.  I know you mean well.  Maybe if she had come up here from the start and got a second opinion, but she didn’t so we just have to go with it.  Besides, your father wouldn’t let her stick with doctors if he didn’t approve of them, yeah.”

Ross took another drink of his coffee, “I suppose you’re right.  She did seem a little down though.”  He didn’t tell Demelza why she was down.  

“Did she? Did you speak with your father?”

“No, she didn’t mention him, so I don’t know where he was.  Do you think I should try to speak with him when he isn’t around her?” Ross asked.

Demelza shrugged, “Mmmm I don’t know.  You would probably know better than I would about that.”

“I’ll have to have a think on it.”  Ross took Demelza’s cup and his cup and set them on the nightstand.  Ross was looking at Demelza in her nightgown made of white eyelet material.  It was sort of old fashioned but it looked beautiful on Demelza.  “That is a lovely nightgown that you have on.  What’s this material called?”  Ross couldn’t help but notice Demelza’s ivory cleavage peeking out over the top of the nightgown.

Demelza smiled at his interest, “Why thank you sir.  This is white eyelet.  I’m glad that you like it, I just bought it a couple of days ago.”

Ross hummed, “I’m glad that you bought something for yourself.  Did you buy yourself anything else?” Ross was playing with one of the strings that tied the nightgown together.  

“Just some socks that look really warm, and another cardigan.  I bought you some socks too, but they're still in the bag.  Is that okay that I bought a few things?”  Demela suddenly got a look on her face like a scared child.

Ross put his hand gently on Demelza’s cheek and brushed some hair out of her eyes.  His eyebrows went up like a sad puppy dog, “Oh Demelza you don’t ever have to ask my permission to buy anything.  I don’t want you to ever feel afraid to purchase something for yourself or for the house.  You earn your money, you work hard for it.  I’m just disappointed that you didn’t buy me a new nightgown too!” His lips curled up in a smile to get her to smile too.  

She let out a big sigh, “Well, if you’re really good, the next time I go to Mark & Spencer’s I’ll buy you a new nightgown!”

They both laughed.  Ross reached up and started untying Demelza’s nightgown, “Well, I think it would be grand if this nightgown was on the floor.”  Ross sat up so that he could pull the nightgown off over Demelza’s head.  He let out a sigh and looked at Demelza’s dreamy eyes, “That’s definitely much better.”  He lifted one of her ivory hands to his mouth and gently kissed it.  Then he made his way up her arm with kisses until he got to her neck.  Demelza leaned her head over to give him more access.  “Roooss” she moaned softly.  She was often amazed at how quickly Ross could arouse her, make her weak at her knees.  She put her hands in his hair to hold him close to her, to feel those beautiful curls.  

Ross moved to kiss Demelza’s lips which she wholly accepted. Hot, messy kisses.  Ross felt Demelza’s fingernails scratching his back, up and down.  The sensation caused him to hiss and drop his head back.  Demelza took the opportunity to attack his neck, sucking and biting.  Ross lifted her from under her hips and placed her on top of him.  Demelza raised up so that she could adjust Ross’s cock between her folds and lowered herself.  They both moaned at the same time from the feeling of joining together.  

Ross leaned back to look at her.  There she was, his beautiful Cornish Goddess sitting on top of him with her creamy skin glowing and her red hair still wild from the previous night’s activities.  She had this dreamy look in her blue eyes that took his breath away.  He would never tire of seeing her like this.  “I know this sounds corny, but if I died right now, I would die a happy man,” Ross whispered.  She couldn’t help but giggle, “Oh Ross, I love you.”

Demelza was holding onto Ross’s shoulders and began to rise up and down on Ross.  Demelza laid her head back hoping that Ross would attack her neck like she did his.  She didn’t have to hope for very long.  As soon as she felt his lips on her she shivered.  She felt Ross’s hands on her hips again, helping her raise up and down on himself. 

Demelza’s cleavage was flushed from the heat.   He heard whimpering sounds come from Demelza, so he lowered a hand to where they joined so he could gently rub her sweet spot with his thumb.  Ross lowered his head to Demelza’s shoulder.  He loved the sounds that she was making.  He knew she was getting close, and so was he.  Demelza whispered, “Ross, please take me.”

All of a sudden Ross growled and rolled them over so that Demelza was on her back beneath him.  He didn’t even lose connection with her.  Even though the previous day and a half had been filled with lovemaking, their lips felt desperate to connect with each other, full of passion and heat.  Demelza wrapped her legs around Ross’s waist and locked her ankles.   When they were in this position,  it made her feel like they were one.  Soon both of their breathing picked up and Ross was entering her faster. The intensity was building.  They were staring into each other's eyes as they came to their end, tears in both of their eyes from the feelings they shared. Ross collapsed on top of Demelza in exhaustion, both of them trying to catch their breath.  Demelza could feel the stickiness from the sweat on Ross’s back but she didn’t care.  She just wanted to enjoy this moment full of love and passion for each other.  Then she had a question.

“Ross.”

“Hmmm.”

She could hear the sleepiness in his response, “Is it like this for every couple?”

Ross’s head was still laying down on her breast, “What do you mean?”

“Well, I just wondered, well we’ve been a couple like this for a while now, and our lovemaking is still very passionate and frequent.  Is it like this for couples who live together or who are married?”

Ross raised his head to look at his love, “Baby, I don’t know.  I’ve really only had one long term relationship, and most of that was spent apart because of Uni.  I’ve never lived with anyone else except for you.  I mean, I’ve heard husbands complain after being married for a while, after kids, that it’s not the same, but I don’t know if that’s just talk.”

“Oh.  Well, what about your parents?” Demelza asked.

“My parents!  Bloody fucking hell Demelza!  Do you really want to put that image in my mind!!  And here in bed with you!  Christ on a bike!”

Demelza was laughing at Ross.  “Judas Ross!  Well they seem very loving toward each other, so I just wondered.”

“Yes, they are still very loving towards each other, and I just assume, Judas, I can’t believe that I’m going to say this, I’m just assuming that they are still very active …. Sexually.“  Demelza couldn’t help but laugh at Ross.  “In fact, when I was growing up I walked in on them twice!  And Demelza, a kid just can’t un-see that!  It’s burned in my mind forever!  Fuck, I need to go brush my teeth and take a shower now after that.  Care to join me?”

“Sure, but we just need to get clean.  No funny business.  Don’t forget we have dinner plans for tonight!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”  

Demelza loved watching his naked arse walk away from her!

Demelza was still giggling at Ross, yelling out to him,  “Ross, you said ‘Judas’!!

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

It was in the shower soaping each other up that they noticed the marks that they had left on each other!  

“Judas Ross!”

He was looking around thinking there was a spider in the shower, “What? What’s wrong?”

She put her hand up to her mouth, “Your neck! I’m so sorry, I didna realise that I sucked that hard!”

Ross got a smile on his face, “Oh really?  Is it that big?”

“I’m afraid it’s in a spot that might be hard to cover up!  I’m so sorry!  That was careless of me,” Demelza was upset with herself.

Ross just laughed, “Baby it’s okay, I’ll just wear a turtleneck tonight!  No big deal.”  Then he started looking around Demelza’s neck and spotted a mark on her neck as well, "Um well, it looks like you’re going to need a turtleneck as well!”  

“What!?  Really?”  She started pulling down her skin like she could see it on herself making Ross laugh.  “Ross, stop laughing!  It’s not funny!  We’re too old to be giving each other bite marks!”

“Oh dear, just a minute ago you were worried that we were going to stop having sex and now you’re upset because you have a couple of hickies on your neck!”  Ross couldn’t stop smiling.  

“A couple! A couple! Dammit Ross!”  Demelza rushed out of the shower to look in the mirror.  “Where?  I don’t see two hickies, just the one!”  Ross was really laughing now!  “Ross Poldark you wanker!!”  She stuck her hand in the shower and turned the cold water on full blast!

“Fuck Demelza that’s cold!  Shit!!”  He jumped out of the shower.

Demelza stuck her tongue out at him, “Now who’s laughing!”

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

Demelza was downstairs preparing a snack for the two of them so as not to spoil their appetite for dinner out tonight.  Ross was still upstairs getting dressed and looking at his suits for the week coming up.  Demelza was right about the hickey on his neck, he was going to have to cover it up somehow.  He noticed his duffle bag in the bottom of the closet and what was hiding in it.  He shut the bedroom door and pulled out his mother’s engagement ring.  He opened the box to look at it.  It was just as beautiful as ever.  Set in rose gold, it might not have the biggest centre diamond in the world, probably not even a half carrot,  but the way the middle round diamond was cut, it was brilliant and sparkled like a thousand carrots in the world. And the smaller round diamonds around the centre diamond just added to the daintiness of the ring. 

What am I waiting for? A special weekend away? We’ve just spoken about having children, and even though Demelza’s not sure about them, do I really want to leave her if she doesn’t want to have kids?  I just can’t see myself doing that.  I’m so happy with her.  I can’t imagine breaking up with her.  I love our life together and I don’t want anyone else.  I’ve already told her that I would support her in her decision if she doesn’t want children.  So what else is there, Poldark???

“Ross are you still upstairs?” he heard Demelza yelling.

He opened the door, “Yeah, I’ll be right down.”  He pulled the ring from the box and put it in his pocket.

Demelza had put a platter of veggies and dip with cheese and crackers on the coffee table with some drinks.  “Are you in the mood for a movie?” she asked.

Then Ross spotted the backgammon game and got an idea.  “Nah.  How about a game of backgammon?” He walked over to get the game and set it on the coffee table next to the food.

Demelza was kind of surprised that he suggested backgammon because she always beat him! “Really? Alright, sounds like fun.  We haven’t played in a while.  Maybe you’ll win this time!”

“Haha very funny Dem!  What time are we meeting Dr and Mrs Enys?”

Demelza laughed at how Ross referred to Caroline and Dwight, “6:30, so we have time for a game or two.”  Demelza started setting up the board.

“Sounds grand,” Ross replied with a smile.  They got comfy on the floor, sitting on pillows on opposite sides of the coffee table.  They rolled one dye to see who would go first, and Demelza won of course.  “Dammit!  It’s starting already!”

“We don’t have to play if you don’t want to.  We could play chess.  We haven’t played that in a while,” Demelza offered to play the game that Ross was more skilled at playing.

Ross held up his hand, “No, no I can handle it.  Go ahead, start the game.”

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

Ross couldn’t keep his mind on the game, nervous as to how he’s going to pull off his plan.  Demelza had noticed that he was a little jittery, but she just thought it was because he was losing the game.  

Demelza just landed on one of Ross’s stones and placed it on the bar, making that two stones on the bar for Ross.  “Ross, what is wrong with you? Two stones on the bar, that’s not very good!”

“Damnit, I know, I know,” Ross answered back.  He was trying to keep his eye on Demelza’s dice cup, but she kept picking it up and playing with it.  He had to distract her somehow. He was taking his time making his next move.  “Do we have any more dip?”

“I’m not sure.  I’ll go check, but don’t roll your dice until I get back!”

“Of course not! Cheeky you!”

Demelza got up and went into the kitchen and Ross made his move.  He took the engagement ring out of his pocket and quietly placed it in her dice cup with his shaking hands.  Then he quickly set up his cell phone to record casually sitting on the sofa behind him. After all, he had to get this on video!

Demelza came back into the livingroom with more dip and sat back down, “Alright, this is the last of it. Go ahead and roll.”

“Thanks, babe.”  Ross rolled the dice and it was the right number to get one of his stones back in play.  “Yes!!!  Today is my lucky day!!”

“We’ll see.  You still have one more stone on the bar.”  Demelza was shaking the dice in the dice cup, unaware that there is a special shiny something in the dice cup.  She emptied out the contents of the cup on the board.  At first she didn’t notice because she was busy looking at the dice, then all of a sudden she let out the shrillest scream that Ross has ever heard! “WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAA  WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”  she jumped up to stand up and was covering her mouth with one hand and with the other was shaking a finger at the board!!!   “Ross!  Rooosss!  What is that?”  She was moving from one foot to the other!

“I don’t know, what is it that you’re staring at?”

She was still dancing from one foot to the other.  Ross was getting a kick out of the scene.  It was actually more of a reaction than he thought he would get out of Demelza.  “Stop it Ross!”

Ross picked up the ring and stood up and took a step towards Demelza, and then got down on one knee.

“Demelza, my love.  I know things have moved quickly between us.  Lord knows, you hit me like a freight train on that aeroplane just a few short months ago.  I had been doing my best to stay away from long term relationships, but I couldn’t help myself with you.  I’m pretty sure that I fell in love, hopelessly in love with you on that aeroplane.  I promise to support you in your hopes, your dreams, your career, if you will just do me the honour of becoming my wife and my partner for life.  Will you marry me Demelza?”

Demelza’s whole body was shaking, and she just dropped to her knees.  Tears were streaming down her cheeks, her blue eyes sparkling more than ever, one shaky hand covering her mouth.  She felt like she was breathing so hard that she was going to pass out.  Softly she said, “Oh Ross. Yes, of course I’ll marry you!”

Ross had the most joyous look on his face, “You will?  Really?”

“Of course I will!”  She held out her left hand, and Ross placed the ring on the ring finger of her left hand. He cupped Demelza’s face in his hands and gave her the most loving kiss.  He didn’t want it to end.  He pulled away and looked back down at the ring.

“It fits!  I wasn’t sure if it would!” 

Demelza gasped at the ring, “Oh Ross it’s perfect!  I love it!”

Ross was grinning from ear to ear, “You do!  It’s my mum’s!  I’m so glad that you like it.”

Demelza was already moving her hand to watch it sparkle, “How could I not love it?  It really is beautiful, and I love that it was your mum’s.  And it does fit perfectly.  I thought her hands were a wee bit larger than mine.”

“I think they are now, but they didn’t used to be.”  He looked up in her eyes, “Oh Demelza you’ve made me so happy!

“Judas Ross, you’ve made me so happy.  I had no idea that you were planning something like this!  How long have you been planning on proposing?”

Ross realised that they were still sitting on the floor in an awkward position, so he helped Demelza up to sit on the sofa.  “Honestly, just since I came out of the shower!  I’ve had the ring since Nampara.  Mama gave it to me when we were there, but I had no idea in my head when I would propose.  This weekend has been so special, and I just couldn’t think of why I should wait, so here we are!”  He leaned in and kissed her again, and leaned his forehead against hers.

“Is that why you wanted to play backgammon so badly?”  Demelza’s was lighter and full of hope.

Ross laughed, “Yep!  The idea just came to my head when I came downstairs and spotted the game!  I was sweating it too.  You kept playing with your dice cup and wouldn’t put it down!  I was going out of my mind waiting for the perfect moment.  So I finally had you go get more dip so I could put the ring in your cup and set up my phone to record!”

Now Demelza was laughing, “Well, aren’t you the sneaky one!  And I’m so glad that you are!  I can’t wait to tell Caroline and Dwight tonight!  Caroline will scream almost as loud as I did!”

“I’m sure she will.  But before we go, can we call my parents?  I don’t want them to hear about it on Facetime.”

“Oh aye, do you wanna do that now?” Demelza asked.

“If that’s alright with you?”

“Of course.”  Demelza was watching her ring sparkle again.  “I can’t believe this is really happening to me!”  Ross took her in his arms.  “You can believe it.  You make me so happy, Demelza.”

Ross called his mother, “Ross!  I didn’t expect to hear from you again today.  Is anything wrong?” 

“No mama, everything’s perfect. Is da there with you?”

“Well yeah, he’s sitting right here with me, do you want to talk to him?’  Grace was really confused now.

“Let’s skype so I can talk to the both of you.”

“Okay, go ahead,” said Grace.

Joshua yelled, “I’m here Ross.  What’s going on?”

“Hi da.  Well I have Demelza here with me too.”

Demelza waved into the phone, “Hello everyone!  How are you!”

Grace was getting impatient now, “Ross for heaven’s sake, what is going on!”

Ross was chuckling at his mother’s impatience, “We have some news for you.  I just asked Demelza to marry me, and she said yes!  Isn’t that great”

Grace and Joshua both gasped at the same time.  “Oh Ross, Demelza!  That makes us so happy!” Grace said.

“Absolutely, that’s the best news!  Congratulations to the both of you and welcome to the family Demelza!  We will love having you as our daughter!” Joshua added.

The tears started again for Demelza, “Oh goodness, you’ve got me in tears again.  That’s so sweet of you both to say!  I’m so lucky to be a part of your wonderful family!”

“And mama, Demelza is wearing your ring, and it fits perfectly!” Ross told his mother.

Grace was crying, “Oh that makes my heart happy!  Demelza I hope that it gives you as much happiness as it has for me all of these years.  And who knows, maybe you can pass it down to your first born.”  That statement took Ross back since he had just spoken with his mother earlier about the possibility of not having any children.

Demelza grabbed Ross’s hand, “Thank you so much Grace.  I love it.  It’s so beautiful, and it really does fit perfectly.”

Ross looked at Demelza, “It’s like it was meant to be.”  He wiped the tears from Demelza’s face.

Grace wiped her tears so that she could talk some more, “Yes, I think it certainly was.  Oh Demelza, you are the perfect fit for Ross.  I’m so grateful that he found you!”

Joshua noticed his wife looking tired and overwhelmed by the news, “Ross, I think we are going to hang up now, so you two can finish celebrating.  I think your mother is ready for a kip.  Congratulations again to the both of you.  We love you!”

Ross’s chin started to tremble, “We love you too da.  Thank you for everything.  I love you!”  Ross disconnected the call.  Demelza was rubbing his shoulder and wrapped him up in a hug.  Ross finally pulled back, wiping his own tears, “Hey, no more tears now, yeah?  How’s about we take some pictures and selfies!”

The giddy couple took selfies together in different positions, of course showing the left hand with the ring, and then pictures of just the ring.  Demelza wrapped her arms around Ross’s neck, "Sooo, after dinner tonight with Caroline and Dwight, we can post a few pictures, yeah!”

Ross looked deep into her eyes, “Yeah.”  He rubbed his nose against Demelza’s and kissed her lips softly, and then again and again melting into her, kissing her ear, moving down to her neck with open mouth kisses.  Then Ross felt a wet tongue on his cheek and it wasn’t Demelza’s, “Seamus!  Get back boy!  Go on, quit licking me!”  Demelza was laughing at Seamus giving love to Ross and interrupting their celebration.  Seamus knocked Ross over and was licking his master all over his face!  Ross was laughing so hard, but he’d much rather be kissing his new fiance.  “Come on Seamus get up now!  Enough!”  Ross was finally able to get Seamus off of him and stand up.  “Well, so much for a celebratory snog!”  He looked at his watch, “It’s almost time to go meet Caroline and Dwight, I need to change before we go.”  “Yeah, I guess I do too, but we can finish this later.” Demelza stated.  “Well, I’m looking forward to it, Mrs. Poldark,” Ross raised his eyebrow at Demelza and gave her another kiss.  

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

Ross came down the steps dressed and ready to go to dinner, to find Demelza standing by the front window moving the engagement ring around to see it sparkle in the light.  The diamond was almost as brilliant as the smile on her face.  Ross quietly walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her ear, “Hello Mrs Poldark!”

Demelza turned around in Ross’s arms and looked up at him, “Not yet!  Don’t jinx us!”  She put her hands on Ross’s turtleneck to smooth it out.  

Ross leaned down to kiss the side of her forehead, “Are you happy?”

“Oh Ross, I’ve never been happier.  I can’t believe this has all happened to me.  But Ross, are you sure you want to get married?  You didn’t propose just because you thought it was the right thing to do?”

Ross furrowed his brow, “What the hell are you talking about Demelza?  Of course I want to marry you!  I proposed to you because I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.  Why would you think otherwise?”

“Well, we really haven’t talked much about getting married, and we’ve only just mentioned whether or not to have children.  I don’t want you to regret it down the line if we..don’t have children.”

Ross let out a sigh, “You’re right, we haven’t really talked about marriage formally, but we’ve talked about long term.  And as far as children go, if you decide that you really, really don’t want to have children, then I will respect that. But I think that we should have future conversations about it before that decision is made.  But no matter what, I will still love you, and I will still want you to be my wife.  Understood?” Ross leaned down and lifted her chin up with a finger.  “Hey love, I don’t want anyone else but you, okay? I am very happy and I hope you are too.”

Demelza looked up into his whiskey eyes, “I am very happy.  I just wanted to make sure you are.”

Ross smiled, “Well, then it’s settled.  Are you ready to go meet the Enys’s?”

Demelza laughed, “You better not let Caroline hear you call them that!”

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

Ross and Demelza arrived at the restaurant, ready to make the big announcement.   Demelza had insisted that they both try to wear something to cover up their hickies, so Ross was wearing a turtleneck jumper, and Demelza was wearing a scarf, so hopefully Caroline wouldn’t figure it out.  Ross hadn’t been able to wipe the smile off his face since they’d left the house.  He grabbed Demelza’s hand and kissed it before opening the door of the restaurant.  The hostess showed them to the table where Dwight and Caroline were sitting.  Ross whispered to her to bring three bottles of Proseco over to the table.  Dwight and Caroline stood to greet their friends and exchange hugs and kisses, then everyone sat down in a cosy booth.

Dwight had a big smile on his face, “So how is everyone doing?  We haven’t seen much of each other since New Year’s.”

Demelza was doing her best to hold her hands under the table until the right moment.  She could have sworn that Caroline was staring at her, so she was trying to focus on Dwight.

Ross pushed his sleeves up a bit and put one arm around Demelza’s shoulders, “Oh we’ve been busy with Demelza’s schedule at the orchestra and the private lessons that she’s taking.  I’m hoping to be moved to the charity division shortly so that will be fun learning new things.  How about you two?  Are you still picking up extra shifts at the A&E?”

Caroline butted in, “No he’s not, he’s much too busy with me to be picking up extra shifts.  Aren’t you darling?”

Dwight shook his head, “Whatever you say darling.  Whatever you say!”  That made Ross laugh really loud, throwing his head back to show his almost perfect white teeth.

Demelza had been looking around the restaurant, “I don’t think I’ve ever been here before.  Have you Caroline?  I wonder what’s good here?”

Just then the server brought over two bottles of Proseco and four glasses.  Dwight furrowed his brow, “Hey mate, we didn’t order Proseco!”

The server stopped pouring and looked at Ross.  “Actually, I ordered the Proseco, so keep pouring!”  The server finished pouring into the four glasses and left the two couples.

Dwight looked at Ross confused, “What’s the occasion?”

Ross looked at Demelza like he was going to burst, “Well, I asked Demelza to marry me, and she said yes!”  He gave Demelza a quick kiss and then she raised her left hand to show off her ring!  And as expected, Caroline shrieked loudly enough for the whole restaurant to turn around and stare at them!  Dwight was shaking his head at Caroline, and Ross was laughing even louder while he scooted out of the booth so that Demelza and Caroline could get up to hug and scream some more while Caroline looked at the ring.  It was obvious enough to the rest of the restaurant patrons that they all started clapping!  

“Oh my God Demelza why didn’t you tell me!!” Caroline said.

“I did, I did!  It just happened a couple hours ago!” Demelza said.

“Oh my gosh!  Let me see it again!”

Demelza showed off the ring to Caroline again, “It’s Ross’s mum’s engagement ring!  And it fits perfectly!”

Caroline put her hand over her heart, “Oh Demelza that’s so sweet!  And it’s beautiful, and very vintage!  Ross, I’m so mad at you, why didn’t you tell me that you were going to propose to my best friend!!!”

Ross raised his hands, “Sorry Caroline, I didn’t know that I was supposed to clear it with you first!  I didn’t even tell Dwight!”

“No he didn’t,” said Dwight.  “Although you did tell me that you brought the ring back from Nampara.”

Caroline smacked Dwight on the arm, “And you didn’t even tell me that!  Dr. Enys!  How could you keep me in the dark!”

Ross was laughing at Caroline, “Caroline he kept you in the dark, so that you wouldn’t blab to Demelza that I brought the ring back with me!”

Caroline gasped at Ross.  Demelza just smiled watching all of the exchanges going on.  

Dwight raised his glass, “Well, I must make a toast for this most auspicious occasion, to the beautiful, intelligent, talented Demelza, who swept my best mate off of his feet and was finally able to make him a deliriously happy man for the first time in his life.  To Demelza!”  They all raised their glasses to toast to Demelza which made her face turn redder than her hair!   That was the first of many toasts made that evening.  By the end of the meal, Caroline and Demelza were sitting next to each other with their heads together already planning the wedding, and Dwight and Ross were sitting next to each other just taking it all in.  

Dwight leaned into Ross, “Thanks a lot mate.”

Ross looked at him, “For what?”

“For putting more pressure on me to propose now!  They’re probably planning a double wedding as we speak!”

Ross laughed at his best friend, “Sorry about that mate.  I didn’t even think about that.”  He picked up the second empty Proseco bottle.  “Should I order another one?”

“No!  I have to work in the morning,” Dwight yelled at him.  “So, I suppose that any issues were worked out?  Since you proposed so quickly?”

Ross was shaking his head, “You suppose correctly my friend.  And I’m going to start looking for a new place.”

Dwight’s eyebrows raised, “Really?  I thought you liked your place?”

“Oh I do, but it’s much too small.  Demelza needs a proper music room, and I’d like a bigger office, and Seamus could use a bigger garden.  And you know, some extra bedrooms for guests.”

“Or babies?” Dwight said, looking at Ross.

Ross shrugged his shoulders, “Possibly.”

Dwight smiled at Ross’s comment, “I imagine Grace and Joshua were very happy with the announcement.”

Demelza had turned from Caroline to look at Ross.  Dwight had a big grin on his face, “Yes, they were very happy.  We facetimed so they could see Demelza wearing the ring.”

Dwight was nodding and then furrowed his brow, “Sooo do you have an idea of when the   wedding will be?  Before or after Grace’s surgery?”

Demelza looked at Ross, “We hadn’t thought of her surgery.  Is that an issue, Dwight?”

Dwight shook his head, “It could be.  Recovery time could vary a lot.  She’ll have tubes and drains in for quite a while.  And there’s always a risk of infection with those.  Has the surgery been scheduled yet?”

“No, they want her to do more chemo first, which she’s not happy about.  So this recovery time, what do you think, two months, three months?” Ross asked.

“Mmmore like four to six months, longer if infection sets in.  It can take a lot out of a woman.”

Demelza spoke up, “Do you think we should have the wedding before the surgery?”

Dwight squinted, “I don’t want to tell you what to do, but if you don’t get married before her surgery, you might want to wait until she’s fully recovered, maybe a year down the road.  Sorry if I just spoiled any plans.”

“No, I’m glad you spoke up, Dwight.  I guess we will need to talk about it when we get home,” Demelza responded in a low tone.  

Caroline noticed the look on Demelza’s face, “Well it doesn’t matter, Dem.  Either way I will make sure that you have the wedding of your dreams!  Just leave everything to me!”  

Demelza put her hand on top of Caroline’s, “Thanks Caroline.”

Ross was watching Demelza.  They will have a lot to decide in the next couple of days.  He stood up and reached out a hand to Demelza, “Well my love, it’s getting late and I think it’s time we head home.”

Demelza stood up and took his hand, “Are you going to be okay to drive?”

Dwight and Caroline both looked up at Ross.  “Don’t look at us, we took a Lyft, mate,” Dwight said.  “You want to share one with us?”

Ross’s permanent smile was still on his face, “Well, yeah I guess we probably should.”  They all laughed at Ross.  

Caroline stood up, “Oh and by the way…”  she walked over to Ross and pulled down his turtleneck to expose the love bites, and then pulled Demelza’s scarf off, “You two are so busted!!!”

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

Ross and Demelza practically fell through the front door laughing their head off after leaving Dwight and Caroline in the Lyft car.  The Prosecco had definitely gone to their heads.  Ross had loudly shut the front door and locked it, stirring up Seamus in the process.  He was bouncing around and jumping up on Ross, practically knocking him over, which really didn’t take much effort given Ross’s intoxicated state.  Luckily Ross was able to catch himself on the couch.   

“Ross are you alright?”

“Yes, yes I’m fine.  I better let this mongrel outside.  Come on boy, let's head out the back door.” 

Demelza followed them to the kitchen.  Demelza yawned, “Okay, I’m gonna grab us a couple of bottles of water and head upstairs, yeah?”

Ross shook his head, “Sounds good.  I’ll be up as soon as I take care of Seamus.”

Demelza stood at the fridge and took off her shoes, unzipped her pants and took them off and laid them on the kitchen island, and then grabbed the water and headed upstairs. 

Ross came back inside with Seamus and locked the door and gave him some water and started to head upstairs.  He stopped at the island and noticed Demelza’s pants laying on it, along with her shoes.  He chuckled and picked them up and took them upstairs, groaning on the way up.

He found Demelza sitting on the bed attempting to remove her blouse but it was tangled with the scarf that she had worn to hide the love bites.  

Ross stood and looked at her fighting with her clothes.  “Oh love, here, let me help you before you rip your blouse.”  He was able to untangle the scarf and then worked on unbuttoning her blouse, “Demelza, my love, do you know what I found downstairs on the kitchen island?”

“Hmmm?”

Ross was starting to giggle at this point, “I found your pants and your shoes on the kitchen island!  I didn’t think you’d had that much to drink?”

“What did you say? Nooo, I don’t think that you drunk that much?  Did I?”

Ross couldn’t help but smile at this beautiful person before him.  This was only the second time he had seen Demelza tipsy, so it tickled him to watch her right now.   He sat down on the bed next to her and turned her back towards him so he could unhook her bra.  He started rubbing her back, “There, better?”

Demelza nodded her head.  “Mmmmuch better.  Thanks you much very for taking care of me, Ross.”

Ross couldn’t help but laugh at Demelza’s backward words.  “You’re welcome much very.” Ross started kissing the back of her neck and her back, giving her shivers.  Ross chuckled.  

Demelza jumped and gasped, “Ross!”

Ross jumped, “What?  What’s wrong?”

“We have to tell Drake!  We have to call him!” she exclaimed.

Ross closed his eyes and smiled, “We will baby, but tomorrow.  It’s too late tonight to call him tonight, yeah?”

“Oh yeah, right.”

“Right, I’m going to go to the bathroom and get ready for bed, okay?”

“Okay.  I love you Ross.”

Ross was giggling, “I love you too Demelza.  I’ll be right out in a bit.”

Ross went into the bathroom to get ready for bed.  Demelza took off her earrings and her bracelet and climbed under the covers to get comfortable.

Ross came out of the bathroom ready for a night of lovemaking to celebrate their engagement.  He stepped through the door in just his boxers, ready to give Demelza a corny, sexy pose, only to find her asleep under the blankets with a smile on her face, her red hair scattered on the pillow around her head.

He leaned against the door frame and just smiled at the vision in front of him.  “Oh well my love, there’s always tomorrow night.”  He tip-toed around the room to turn off the lights and climbed into bed beside her.  He leaned over and gently kissed her head and settled in behind her to wrap his arm around her.  “Good night my fiance!”

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

The engagement ring Ross gave Demelza!  You might have to click on the link twice.

#aidan turner #modernpoldark #poldark #ross poldark #six sentence sunday #demelza carne #demelza poldark #work in progress

[zweiherzen]

Hey can I borrow your eyebrows? I'll give them back later I promise.

—  @thatmelody  //  sigma says its HIS turn with the brows

not today, old man

#ask. — ⋮⋮ ❝ do close the door on your way out. ❞ #( '' i'll give them back '' yeah SURE you will.. get yr brows somewhere else ) #thatmelody #crack. — ⋮⋮ ❝ now... let's go practise medicine. ❞

[dreamescapeswriting]

Stray Kids Reaction || Not Giving You Attention [Request]

CHAN:

You understood how busy Chan got whenever he was in the zone working on a new album or just some songs he and the boys were having fun but it didn't mean you liked it. Whenever he got too into something it was as if the rest of the world no longer existed to him, you knew it wasn't personal since his music meant everything to him but it had been over a week of no attention from him and you were starting to get moody about it. If Chan was always at work you didn't have someone to cuddle up to apart from Felix so that was what you did, you began cuddling up to Felix on a night since you both needed to hold something to fall asleep. 

"Lix?" Chan's voice rang out as he walked into the dorms at 3 am one morning to find you curled up in front of Felix, his arm draped along your stomach to make sure you didn't fall off in your sleep.

"What are you guys doing?" Chan chuckled weakly as he caught the sight of you both laying together the way you were, he knew there was no reason for him to feel jealous but he couldn't help it. 

"He's cuddling me because someone has been too busy to," You grumbled too tired to say anything, you simply rolled over and snuggled your head into Felix as he continued to try and go back to sleep. 

"Oh, so you went to the next Australian?" Chan chuckled as he watched you, reaching out his hand to stroke your cheek softly, he'd missed you incredibly all week and he didn't blame you for going to someone else for cuddles. 

"Well I went to Hyunjin but he was busy too," You joked, whining as Chan lifted you up from the sofa and began carrying you in the direction of his bedroom but you pouted at him, 

"Are you going to pout all night?" You nodded in answer to his question and he chuckled, laying down on the bed. 

"Even if I said I'm done with working for now?" That was all it took for you to wrap your arms around his body and hold him as tightly as you possibly could, not daring to let go even for a second. 

MINHO:

"You've been like this all week! What's the problem?!" Minho snapped as he tried getting you to speak to him but you just looked at him with a blank stare. All week he'd been ignoring you, not giving you enough attention and the petty side of you decided to do the same thing to him ignoring him and giving him the silent treatment to see how long it would take him to crack. The answer was about three days before he finally noticed you weren't asking him for cuddles all of the time or begging for his attention.

"You're ignoring me? How mature of you?" He quipped sarcastically as he sat down on the sofa next to you but you scoffed in his direction, 

"You're the one who didn't give me any attention this week! It's taken you three days to notice I'm ignoring you," You whined out, folding your arms across your chest kind of like a child whenever they didn't get something that they wanted. 

"So you ignored me to get attention?" He chuckled watching you as you continued to pout, turning away from him but all he did was wrap his arms around you and drag you into his embrace. 

"I didn't mean to, you know how things have been lately," He whispered in your ear, leaving small and soft kisses up and down your skin that made your whole body tingle. 

"I guess this makes up for it," You laughed as he continued to kiss you, not letting you go for even a second.

CHANGBIN:

Instead of begging and fighting for Changbin's attention, you decided to give him a taste of his own medicine, whatever he was working on was clearly important to him so you began to spend time by yourself. Getting into reading until you found a book you couldn't put down but then, of course, Chanbin was done with his projects and wanted to give you all his time and attention but your head was so into the book you barely even noticed that he was there. Ignoring him as you flipped through the pages of a book, lost so deeply that you could imagine the world around you, all of it playing in your head like a small movie.

"Y/n?" You looked up to see Changbin holding up your favourite fast food with a cheesy grin on his face as you finally looked at him. 

"Now you're paying attention to me?" He asked sarcastically as you put the book down onto the table in front of you, 

"I think you'll find it was the other way around," You mumbled to him, taking the bag from his hands and heading over into the kitchen as he followed behind you. 

"I give you all my attention-"

"You've barely spoken to me all week," You didn't mean to sound as pissed off as you did but it hurt that your boyfriend had been ignoring you for so long and was now pissed at you for doing the exact same thing. 

"I was giving you a taste of your own medicine," You quipped, throwing a chip at him for him to catch in his mouth, he chuckled wrapping his arms around you from behind. 

"Then from here by out, I promise to give you all of my attention and if I can't you have permission to sit on my lap until I do," As he finished his sentence he fed you a chip and you smiled at him, kissing his lips softly. 

"Deal."

HYUNJIN:

Hyunjin was almost always busy with something so not getting attention from him was kind of hard sometimes, he would be busy with dance practise and other things he was doing but somehow he would make time for you. It was only occasionally he would get so busy he barely knew what time of day it was and you would have to force him into staying with you, holding you, giving you the attention you craved but it wasn't for selfish reasons you had to make sure he was taking care of himself.

"I bought lunch, sit," You ordered as you walked into the dance studio to find Hyunjin panting and sweating heavily from his routines he was doing, he looked at you before going back to dancing to the music. 

"Hyunjin." You warned him, placing the food down onto the computer desk where you could easily turn off the music and force him into interacting with you but he groaned, looking over at you. 

"I have to practice-"

"No, you have to eat. Chan said you skipped breakfast," You turned off the dance track and walked over to him, waving the bag under his nose as you told him what you'd made for lunch for the pair of you, forcing him to sit down and give you attention while also making sure he was taking care and looking after himself.

“Fine but only because it’s my favorite,” He lied as he sat down on the floor he knew it was only because you’d brought him the food. If anyone else had turned off the music mid-session there would have been harsh words exchanged but he couldn’t be harsh to you when he knew you were only looking out for him. He smiled as you fed him, dragging you close to him as you both cuddled together and ate lunch.

JISUNG:

All of Jisung's attention had been on a new video game that he seemed to be obsessed with as of late, spending hours and hours playing it and if he wasn't playing the game he was working or sleeping you barely got to see him. 

"Jisung?" You asked as you walked into the bedroom to find him with his head in the console once again, you held onto the towel that was around your body debating whether or not to drop it in front of him or not. It was something you'd been seeing all over the internet, people who couldn't get their partners to notice them would shower and drop the towel in front of them.

"Sungie," You cooed at him slowly taking off the towel and dropping it by his feet but he didn't even look up, his eyes were glued to the screen so you rolled your eyes, picking up the towel you turned to leave when the door opened, 

"Jisung it's my turn-AH!" Jeongin let out a loud scream as he covered his eyes, Jisung stood up in a rush and covered you with his body to stop the Maknae from seeing what he wasn't supposed to. 

"What are you doing walking around Naked?! Why did you walk in without knocking?!" He yelled out at the both of you while a bright red Jeongin backed out of the room not wanting to respond to anything, 

"You weren't giving me attention, I dropped the towel to get it." You whined as you finally admitted how needy you had been feeling for him to even look at you lately, as soon as he heard what was wrong he sighed and brought you into a hug. 

"I'm sorry babe...I guess I have been a little preoccupied-"

"A little?" You questioned sassily, raising your eyebrow as he blushed and looked down at the floor. 

"Maybe a lot." He chuckled, kissing your forehead as he promised to give you more attention than he had been.

FELIX:

Felix knew whenever he wasn't giving you enough attention because you would cuddle up to him more and more, not letting him go for a second as you were desperate for him to hold you. It wasn't often that he would be so busy he couldn't even talk to you but when it happened he felt bad about it, he tried to do what he could but he couldn't always be there for you.

"Did you miss me? I can't tell," He joked sarcastically as you cuddled up beside him, holding onto his arm tightly as he attempted to leave you alone but you weren't going to let him, you continued to hold him. He'd just come home from a busy day and wanted to sleep beside you but the boys were calling him for dinner,

"You're not allowed to leave unless I'm coming with," You joked, kissing his cheek as he held onto you tightly telling you he would be right back and he would have food when he came back, supplies for your endless night of cuddles.

“But you’re leaving,” You whined jokingly as he continued to get out of your grasp, laughing as you tried to stop him from leaving the dorm room despite that he would be coming back within seconds.

SEUNGMIN:

More often than not you knew Seungmin would sometimes pretend to pay attention to you when he was really ignoring you and had no idea what you were talking about. It had gotten worse lately when he would zone out in your conversations when you were trying to tell him about your day or asking him about his day. 

"Yeah and then-" You stopped speaking once you saw that he was nodding along while staring at his phone so you decided to put it to the test, 

"Then the chicken jumped up onto my work desk and started dancing and singing to Miroh," He didn't even flinch so you stared at him as you kept making things up to see if he would notice, 

"It could rap Jisung's lines really well, I think it said it was going to audition to be a part of 3Racha so they could become 4Racha," Jisung looked up from his phone as he heard this and wondered what you were doing until he saw Seungmin's head in his phone. 

"I made out with Jisung," You lied as you stared directly at him, again there was no reaction so Jisung decided to join in, 

"Y/n and I had sex in your bed." Nothing. You huffed, folding your arms over your chest and pouting as you gave up on the silly idea that you could get your boyfriend to give you attention. 

"You didn't really make out with him...Right?" Seungmin whispered a little while later when Jisung had left the room, you turned to look at him and he was blushing.

"I heard everything, I was just too tired to respond...I'm sorry." He whined as you snuggled into his arms, kissing his chest softly.

JEONGIN:

When Jeongin got stressed he seemed to push everything away from him, he wanted to make sure what he was working on had his 140% in it, wanting whatever it was to be perfect for the fans and the boys and you knew that which was why you'd given him some space but as time passed it was beginning to worry you. There were no texts, calls or even a signal that he was doing okay, if it wasn't for the boys you wouldn't have known what he was doing. 

"When did you get here?" Jeongin asked as he panted heavily, you looked up from the book you were reading and smiled at him, it was nice to see he was finally back in the room. 

"About three hours, you hadn't noticed because you were practising so hard," You bookmarked the page you were on and got up to go over and hug him, not caring that he was covered in sweat you were just glad he finally acknowledged that someone else was in the room with him again. 

"You need to shower, I'm cooking at the dorms with Seungmin later," You tapped his chest, leaning up to give him a kiss on the lips as you smiled at him, not even upset that he had been too busy to call or text, you knew he was doing what he loved and that was all that mattered to you.

Tagline: @taestannie​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @sw33tnight​ @acciocriativity​ @mwitsmejk​ @minholuvs​

#skz #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #skz reaction #skz reactions #stray kids #strya kids x reader #stray kids reaction #stray kids reactions #bang chan x reader #minho x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #jisung x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader #yang jeongin #jeongin #lee felix #felix #kims eungmin #seungmin #han jisung #jisung #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #seo changbin #changbin

[wri0thesley]

examination - overhaul x reader (2.5k)

warnings:  dark content. yandere/overly controlling overhaul. non-consensual drugging, medical kink, glove kink, examination, surgical setting kind of, reader is basically a prisoner, choking, mindbroken reader, needles, non-con implied. afab reader, fem pronouns. not sfw, minors dni!

me: might write that overhaul choking drabble today idk. also me: writes this 2.5k shameful bullshit instead

this is the first mha fic i’ve ever written pls be nice to me, i love this horrible horrible man

The leather of the operating table sticks to your bare thighs uncomfortably as you tug the gown down, despite knowing that the small gesture is useless. You will end the ‘examination’ on your back, gown pushed around your hips, feet in stirrups--

The door opening startles you, big doe eyes flying to the door to see him. Half of his face is still covered by the bird-mask that you always see in your nightmares, but the overall expression of his eyes is satisfied. You are exactly where he told you to be, exactly when he told you to be, exactly how he told you to be. It’s not a surprise – he’s aware of how much fear he commandeers – but it’s still pleasing to remember just how thoroughly broken you are.

He doesn’t greet you as he comes to stand by the operating table, his eyes instead roaming over all of the bare skin not covered by the medical gown. You’ve been careful. You know that you’re not bruised, or cut, or scratched – you’d looked at yourself in the mirror before you’d made your way here.

Bare-faced, hair brushed back, skin still looking a little uncomfortable and raw from the thorough scrubbing you’d given yourself. It’s better to pre-empt these things, you’ve learnt.

He lets out a sigh. Gloved fingers come to pinch at his mask and remove it – you lean back automatically, not wanting to breathe on him or anything that might set him off, and you win a light tilt of his lips that’s covered with a clinical black surgical mask a moment after you’ve seen it.

The gloves he’s wearing are tugged off with a furrow of displeasure, dropped onto the tray beside him as he snaps the new dark latex ones over his hands and wrists instead. Seeing his bare hands always makes a flash of fear go through you. He does not threaten, in so many words – but sometimes, if you displease him, he tugs at the wrist and you feel coldness drench your back.

“Open your mouth,” he says, detached. He always talks like that to you; still, you occasionally hear talk of what he’s like with those who have displeased him, and you think perhaps his cool detachment as he probes and pokes and prods at you is preferable to the other options. Two of his fingers push on your lower lip, forcing your jaw wider until you ache. “Stick out your tongue.”

You think actual doctors use some kind of tool for this; you don’t think they press two long fingers onto their patient’s tongues so that your eyes squeeze shut for a moment, the taste of rubbery latex flooding your senses. You just manage to stop yourself gagging; there’s no telling what he’ll do if you do that with his fingers still in your mouth.

“Hmm.” He says, golden eyes trailing over your tongue. You are not aware of the throb of heat that goes through him at the sight of you, docile and obedient, your mouth wide open for him. He is an expert in making sure his feelings do not project onto his face. “I’ll up your vitamin dose.” He pulls his fingers out, eyes narrowing in displeasure as he changes out the glove on the hand that was on your tongue.

You sometimes wonder how many pairs he goes through, and let yourself have a brief smile at the thought of how much of the Shie Hassaikai’s budget must be devoted to things like surgical masks and latex gloves and anti-bacterial hand gels. Certainly, your little room in the compound must have cost a pretty penny in all of the vitamins and supplements and other various medications that Overhaul tells you to take.

Another vitamin. Your face is falling before you can stop it, and school your features into a blank mask. He does not miss the change; you are usually so good for him.

(You don’t need to be taking half of the things that Overhaul makes sure are emptied into your too-large pillbox. But you’re easier, sweeter and more pliant when you’re so drugged up you can barely open your eyes.)

“Is there something wrong?”

There’s a knife edge to his voice. Your shoulders shrink in, fear evident in every inch of your expression. Thumb and forefinger come to grip your chin, jerking it harshly so you’re looking directly upwards into narrowed, golden eyes.

“I asked you a question. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

A knot of fear in your throat almost stops you from speaking; but that fear, you know, will be tenfold if you make him madder than you already seem to have. Overhaul doesn’t shout; but his cool, clinical tone and the dangerous glint of his iris is just as frightening as if he did.

“I already take so many,” you whisper, your voice very quiet, cracking. You don’t speak much anymore. His face twitches.

“Perhaps a throat spray, too,” he says, evenly. The fingers on your face trail down, and you bite back a whimper as suddenly both of his hands are on your neck, thumbs pressing directly into your windpipe. He doesn’t press, yet, but the danger lingers there as he keeps his gaze on you. “You sound scratchy.”

(He thinks of a throat numbing spray; of your sleepy, dazed eyes as he pushes himself further inside. He might make you bleed, or tear something, he supposes – but his quirk was made for quickly fixing such flaws, even if he was the one to have made them.)

He presses one thumb down, relishing in the soft wheeze that issues forth from your mouth; the terrified, deer-in-headlights shine of your eyes under fluorescent lighting.

“S-sorry, ‘m sorry--” You manage, voice sounding even drier than before. Overhaul tips his head to one side to consider you. You certainly look sorry, pathetic as you are. But . . . not good enough. Your neck feels good under his hands. He presses the other thumb.

Your hand flies up as if you’re going to grab his forearm, but flutters before it does. You force it back down, curling your fingers around the edge of the operating table – good. He doesn’t know how he’d have punished you if you’d been so bold as to touch him without permission or asking, but he knows you won’t have liked it.

You hate the feeling of the latex gloves on your bare skin; hate the squeaking sound they make when they rub against something, hate the cloying scent of them that lingers wherever Overhaul goes.

The fingers wrapped around the back of your neck dig in, too. He’s pressing too hard, restricting too much airflow – you try and take a hurried breath of air, but nothing can get through the blockage. Your lips suddenly feel very numb. Panic is flooding your senses, as well as a vague sense of . . . nothing.

If Overhaul chokes you out right now, and keeps going until you’re limp and your heart stops beating, nobody will do anything. Nobody will care. The thought is strangely comforting.

He releases the pressure, turning away in distaste as you let out a series of distressed little coughs. You manage to get your wrist in front of your mouth before you cough everywhere, but an antiseptic wipe is still pressed into your other hand forcefully before you’ve even stopped choking.

“What do you say?” He asks you, as he turns back to the medical trolley as if he didn’t just come seconds away from killing you. His gloved hand brushes various silvery medical tools, not all of which you recognise, and your heart misses a beat in fear at the sight of the surgical blades. He ignores those ones, thankfully, instead settling on a syringe.

You’re not sure what’s in this one, but you don’t ask. He’ll tell you as he does it; you no longer know how truthful he is, but it’s not like it matters.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” you manage, through the hazy mess that is your poor oxygen-deprived brain. “I-I’ll t-take whatever you tell me to take.”

“I do it for your own good,” he tells you, tapping the syringe with one gloved finger. He looks at it with that same bored, unreadable expression. You wonder if you could tell what he was thinking better if he didn’t wear the mask. “I just don’t want you to be sick.”

He stresses the word. He is always talking about how filthy and ill and diseased the rest of the world is. You swallow again. You should be grateful. You should. Should be grateful that, for all he tells you is wrong with you and plies you with medicines and drugs and vitamins, he doesn’t think you’re sick enough to just outright disassemble you and put you back together.

You hold your arm out, hoping your compliance will make some of his anger at your outburst fade. His eyes linger on the pinprick bruises of your inner elbow, the side he usually injects.

“Just a painkiller,” he says to you, but you don’t believe him.

He doesn’t give you a warning the way nurses used to when you had to be injected as a child. The needle presses into your skin immediately, almost too deep, and you’re immeasurably glad that Overhaul doesn’t see the flinch on your face because he’s too busy watching the liquid be injected directly into your bloodstream.

Needle out. Gauze. Medical tape. He is practised, clinical, careful as he bandages the site of the injection.

(It’ll kick in in about fifteen minutes, he thinks. By then, you’ll have your back flat and your feet in stirrups and you won’t say anything as he presses three gloved fingers inside of you. All you’ll do is let your breath catch, your hips jerk, your eyes hazy and unfocused as the tranquiliser works its magic.)

An alarm sounds from the device wrapped around your wrist.

“Ah,” he says. “I’ll give you the new vitamin now, then. Just a moment.”

He strides over to the other side of the room and you are well-trained enough to not let your eyes follow him, as perfectly organised cupboards are opened and the rattle of pills echoes in your ears.

You turn the bracelet around your wrist off. It’ll beep again once more, later on, for your third lot of medications. Once in the morning, to both wake you up and to tell you to take your first cocktail of pills. Overhaul never usually sees you until the afternoon unless he wants to check on something, but that doesn’t mean he’ll let you rot in bed hating your life all day.

(You are permitted some books, some hobbies that Overhaul does not think will be damaging to your poor health and that don’t make a mess. There is a half-finished embroidery in your desk drawer, a jigsaw puzzle you must have done twenty times spread out over the desk proper, origami animals in a neat line on your bedside table.)

The second alarm goes off at five fifteen. You are supposed to be in this room – you always consider it the surgery room, though it’s more of an examination room than anything else. You’re not permitted to wander the upstairs of the base at your leisure, much less the cavernous underground hallways, so you often wonder what else Overhaul is hiding down here. Overhaul gives you these drugs himself; sometimes this particular cocktail features some new tablet that you’ve never taken before. He watches you take them with the eyes of a hawk, checking underneath your tongue to make sure you’ve swallowed them all.

And the last lot are taken before you go to bed (half nine in the evening, always. Overhaul says a routine for you is integral to keeping you well).

He’s back. One small cup full of rattling pills and medication is given to you, and a half glass full of purified water from the water filter jug in the refrigerator.

He watches you tip the small cup back, watches the bob of your throat as you trustingly swallow them.

You don’t bother looking inside of it before you do this; you probably won’t recognise half of what it is, anyway. You’re going to take them no matter what, so you have decided perhaps it’s better the devil you do not know.

A gulp of cold water, too loud. You’re given a tissue to wipe your mouth.

You’re suddenly getting very tired. Your arms feel very heavy, your mouth dry, your head stuffed with cotton wool. You blink so slowly you feel like you’re wading through a marsh.

“Mouth open,” he’s saying, again, and you do it so he can check you’ve taken the medication, but it sounds and feels like he’s very far away. If you spoke aloud right now, you feel certain that your words would come out slurred and unrecognisable. “Good.”

Your brain attaches itself to the phrase. He so rarely praises you. You feel your mouth pull at the corners, your smile somnolent and pliant. You cannot see the way Overhaul smirks at your expression underneath his mask, but you can see the pleased light reflecting in his eyes.

“Last examination,” he tells you, brusquely. “Lean back. Feet up. You know what to do, don’t you?”

You do! You’ve done this one a hundred times. A soft giggle escapes from your lips as you swing your legs slowly onto the table and the back is readjusted by Overhaul’s own steady hands to make you comfortable. It is comfortable, despite the cold, sticky leather. You miss the stirrup the first time, and you hear Overhaul click his tongue as you’re forcibly pushed into them. It’s not your fault. You always feel drowsy after taking your medicine, but today is even worse than usual--

“Just relax,” he tells you. Latex-covered fingers rest on your outer thighs, pushing the thin medical gown up so that the hem is ruched up around your waist. “Close your eyes. This will be cold--”

You close your eyes and let out a soft sigh as slick, cold fingers (you suppose that he lubricated them, and you’re grateful – he’s not always so kind) gently prod at the space between your legs.

You could fall asleep, right here, you think – which is absurd. You shouldn’t be feeling so heavy and tired and comfortable whilst your . . . you never have quite the right words to describe what Overhaul is to you, but the fact remains that you shouldn’t be so trusting and naive as to fall asleep here with fingers that have killed probing your slit.

You can hear a clock ticking as if it’s somewhere very far away. You can hear Overhaul’s meticulous, even breathing – like even that has to be perfectly in time, perfectly meted out. You can feel your own erratic heartbeat, like a bird trapped in your chest.

You shouldn’t fall asleep, you shouldn’t fall asleep--

You watch fireworks and swirls and patterns on the inside of your eyelids like you’re at a festival; the kind you are no longer allowed to attend, lest somebody’s sickness rub off on you. Watching your own in your mind seems like the next best thing.

You drop into oblivion.

#overhaul x reader #yandere overhaul #overhaul smut #bnha x reader #mha x reader #yandere bnha #chisaki kai x reader #not sfw text #yandere for ts #writing #overhaul x you #medical kink #glove kink #mindbreak for ts #drugging for ts #non con for ts #dub con for ts #bnha posting

[oopsimbug]

in which... y/n is just trying to put on eyeliner and harry is bored pt. two

a/n: when she’s back from a six month hiatus after making only ONE fic. wow, do i suck. for anyone who cares, school has been pretty rough. i’m actually procrastinating studying for an exam to finally upload this. it’s been pretty hard to balance both school and writing but oh well. anywho, here it finally is. it took so long to write because i wasn’t feeling very inspired by this. a lot of people asked for a part two and even though i kinda wanted to leave it on a sad note, i am a sucker for giving the people what they want, so sorry if this is a bit shit- i definitely don’t like this one myself. i guess i’m not one for fluffy endings. well, at least for this one i wasn’t. i really hope you enjoy it! more stuff to come, if school doesn’t mind fucking off for a little while (or maybe just forever?) xox -(a) bug

pairing: best friend! harry styles x reader

summary: Harry is worried about Y/n. Y/n is worried about Harry. Harry is solving it by thinking of ways to check on her, while Y/n uses cheesy pasta and the Fresh Prince of Bel Air as an excuse to not think. But what will happen when someone is at her door, and it’s not her delivery man?

warnings: angst, swearing, y/n and harry being idiotos, fluffy end, kissing

word count: 5.3k

It had been a week.

One gruelling, painfully long week.

Harry was biting his nails, staring up at the ceiling as he laid in his bed, worrying about her.

About how he fucked up.

He didn’t think that she would be upset for this long. He thought she would scream at him and then text him the following day, wanting to hang out- a silent “I forgive you”, he supposed.

But after two days of radio silence on her end, he decided to call her. The only problem was that her last words to him were “leave”. She wanted space. She needed to think things through- what things? Harry had no clue. But he had to respect her and her choice to not want him around. So with that, he put down the phone.

But a small part of him (okay fine, a big part of him), wanted her to just show up at his house so they could cuddle again, talking about the stupidest of things while they made cupcakes in his kitchen. They would be listening to groovy music and now and then, they’d stop mixing bowls and sifting flour to dance- well, they were horrible dancers, so more so just wave their hands, hips and shoulders around. It would be fun and would always end up with them laughing at one another. He would lick the batter and she would berate him, telling him that “one of these days, you are going to get salmonella and I’ll just laugh at your stupid ass” and he would retort with something witty and a bit flirty like “don’t worry darling, we both know you would be right at my side if I got sick. I know you can’t stand being apart from me” with a wink and a cheeky smirk. He just wants to see her in her oversized Space Jam hoodie and little basketball shorts. Or her short flower shirt and his sweatpants that she has to cuff at the bottoms because they’re too long. Or even-

He’s gotta stop thinking about her, or his brain will soon explode. But he just can’t stop. He tries to think of the happier moments, like her showing him a tour of her very healthy houseplants that she prides herself in, but every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is her teary face telling him to leave. So no, if he was given the choice to think of her flailing her arms around in his kitchen to dancehall tunes while making sweet treats or crying at something that he provoked, you bet your ass he’d choose the former.

But after the seventh day, he knew that something wasn’t right. This was too much “thinking time”. For all he knew, she could be fine, but she could also be positively bawling. She could be living for this free time, but she also could be waiting for him to make the first move. She could be wanting Harry out of her life for her benefit forever, but she also could be feeling lonely and counting the seconds for their makeup, just like he was.

That was it. He had to go see her and make sure his best friend was okay.

He practised what he was going to say to her in his car on the way to her apartment. “Y/n, I’m so sorry for how I acted. I didn’t stop to think about how you were feeling and didn’t take your emotions into account which was unbelievably wrong of me. I’m truly sorry. It’s just that I really care about you and you’re my best friend and I can’t see you choose a tinder fuck over me and if I saw him in the street I would knock his lights out and I just want to kiss you, can I kiss you, oh god please let me kiss you I just want to-“

Fuck, what was wrong with him? Why was he so upset? He had been on plenty of dates with other celebrities and models and she was always on the sidelines, cheering him on. So why was he getting so touchy-feely about a single tinder date? Maybe he was just in desperate need of attention. He hadn’t had a girlfriend for almost one year and casual fuck arounds also stopped about four months ago, so maybe he just needed to fuck someone quick. That would explain why he sees his best friend’s kindness and natural flirty nature as something more romantic. Every laugh at his jokes, every look in her eyes, every graze of her hand on his thighs as she leans over him to get her drink on the side table next to him, he becomes more switched on and awake. She leaves him feeling giddy and excited at every conversation. “This can’t just be because I’m horny right?” he cannot believe he would ever be that horny. What the hell was he going to do?

*

This is pathetic she thought.

I’m pathetic.

She let out a huge sigh before shoving another forkful of cheesy pasta into her mouth.

What am I doing?

The answer?

Eating carbs upon carbs upon carbs, lounging on her comfy sofa in the most comfortable, yet daggiest pair of pyjamas ever while watching reruns of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air for the fiftieth time, actively avoiding all commitments, housework and jobs that involve moving further than to the kitchen, which even then was an embarrassingly burdening trek on its own.

But she let it slide. How could she not? She was upset and this was how she coped. That’s what she kept reminding herself as she boiled more and more pasta watching the days pass her by without realisation, but now, she’s beginning to question if this was the best idea. Pushing all thoughts of him out of her mind by not looking at her phone just in case he called or texted. But she was beginning to struggle.

It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know what inner turmoil she was facing. He seemed genuinely hurt when she snapped at him. He truly didn’t understand why she took so much offence to the playground ribbing, it seemed. And she had to go be a dick and ignore him. He was probably worried sick. How many times would he have called to check up on her? 10? 15? The more she thought about it, the more she wanted this stupid feud to be over and just be in his arms again, even if it’s just as a friend. So she caved. Turned on her phone, expecting there to be at least a call or a text asking if she was still alive or not. And although she did receive a message of that likeness, it wasn’t from Harry, no. It was from her daily water tracking app, pleading her to fill in her daily intake of water so as to not die of dehydration after she was suspected to have not drunk any for the entire week when in reality, she was just too in her head to open her stupid phone and log her water.

Wow, she thought.

Now not only has Harry chosen to not speak to you, but you also look like a huge idiot right now. Of course, he wouldn’t want to talk to you! You got pissed at him for absolutely no reason and now he hates you. He’s gonna ask for his cardigan and track pants that he keeps at your house in case he wanted to sleepover. He’s going to take back all of his little knick-knacks that he leaves over, like the cute diffuser that he leaves because he knows you need it for your constant hay-fever that blocks your nose and then he’s going to declare that you aren’t friends anymore and then you will never get the chance to tell him how you feel and then-

Her panicky brooding is interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Who the hell could that be?”, she thinks. It was too late for it to be the postman with her package containing her entire Amazon wish list that she bought on the third day of mourning to make herself feel better. But it couldn’t be Mrs Xiao asking her if she had any holes in her shirts that needed stitching. The sweet old lady fell asleep at 8:37 pm sharp after her medicine that she’d take at 8:30 pm would kick in (which she learnt after spending nights over at her apartment where her niece, Mei, took care of her. Y/n would learn traditional recipes like baozi and watch movies with her two friends all the time). It couldn’t be Mei either, she was always in online uni lectures from 8:30-10:30 pm, locked away in her little study, so as to not bother or be bothered. So now, a little panicked, Y/n wondered who was truly at her door?

Another two knocks come, echoing off the walls of her little apartment as she turns down the volume of the program she was watching. She stares at the door from her couch, debating whether she should risk getting stabbed by a possible murderer or not, before ultimately deciding that life was too short. She was also getting sick and tired of the knocks that kept arriving in threes. She swings her legs off the couch and onto the floor, pushing them into her slippers so that her feet wouldn’t touch the cold floor, waddling her way to the door before shyly opening it, peeking at who it could be through the tiny crack in the opening, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t mind her current state: belly filled with pasta, hair knotty, giant shirt with sweatpants on and Harry’s patchwork cardigan hanging off her shoulders- which she had been wearing all day, cherishing the pretty piece of clothing and his scent imbedded in it, taking it all in just in case he asks for it back. She peeps at the torso of this mystery person, realising that Harry owns the jumper worn by them, before looking up and locking eyes with a worn out and tired eyed Harry, one hand in the pocket of the familiar hoodie and another extended out near the door, ready to knock again before freezing when it opens up all the way to show herself to her best friend. He doesn’t eye her up and down cheekily like he normally does when she is wearing pyjamas, wolf-whistling at her relaxed state, claiming that “You look runway-ready, my love! Do a twirl for the crowd, will you?”. Instead, he stares her right in the eyes with what looks like almost relief, before smiling a weak and broken smile.

One of them needed to break the silence or both would have just stared at each other in her doorway until the world exploded. So she starts.

“Hi.” her voice hovers a tinge above a whisper, almost as though if she dared to speak louder, this probable illusion of the one she loves would fade away. He lights up a little bit, probably relieved that she started the conversation.

“Hey,” his soft voice matched her volume and tone as if he too didn’t want this to be a dream. “May I come in?” The words sound awkward to her coming out of his mouth. Harry never had to ask for permission to be invited in- he usually just strolled in without so much as a holler to indicate he was present, finding amusement in scaring her instead while she was doing whatever she was doing, whether that be reading, watching a movie, cooking or napping. They were the best of friends and never had to inquire about entry to each other’s domains, along with other small things like if they had anything in their kitchens to eat or if they could sit somewhere, so hearing it was a little disheartening and provoked Y/n to think about how serious this situation was.

“Okay”, she replied after the pause of contemplation, opening the door fully so that the lanky boy could follow along behind her, like a little puppy. She didn’t like how awkward the situation was. She just wanted things to go back to what they were.

But then you wouldn’t be able to tell him you love him... her inner voice argued. And she agreed. She knew that yes, this will be awkward, but it’s an opportunity for him to listen to her and know that she isn’t joking.

“Would you like some tea?” She enquires. They’ll need to handle this like proper grown-ups (which in all honesty, isn’t their dynamic- it’s more like first-year uni students who are mature enough to have deep conversations but still laugh at dad jokes and anything remotely serious, like a painting with boobs), and from what she knows, or has seen in movies when the characters are being serious, is that you need tea or a drink of that sort and a sit down on the couch where you talk stuff out. So that’s exactly what she does.

“Yes please,” Harry’s soft voice replies as he toes off his boots that most definitely cost more than her apartment. Y/n nods and heads to the small kitchenette and flips the switch on the electric kettle before going into her cupboard that housed the mugs. Harry stood awkwardly near the sofas, and to save him the embarrassment of waiting while standing, Y/n invites him to sit with a small, “You can take a seat,” and a quick glance at him before returning her gaze to the mugs to make herself look busy. She didn’t want to look him in the eyes for more than three seconds in fear of bursting into tears and the worn out and tired sight of him. She shakes the thought out of her head and begins to prepare the mugs.

Y/n put two teabags in her mug while putting one in Harry’s. She was raised in a household of avid tea drinkers and she inherited her strong tea quirk from her father who would always keep two teabags with only a dash of milk, and the only difference between her tea and her fathers was that Y/n wasn’t strong enough to take her tea without sugar, unlike her father, who thought that drinking unbelievably concentrated leaf juice with milk was a fun and relaxing time. On the other hand, Harry liked to keep one tea bag in his mug while he drank it, but just like her father, he too took little to no sugar with his cup, being the health freak he was. And early in their friendship, when she mentioned it to him, Harry chuckled and chirped, “Your father is a smart man. He has to be for raising amazing and talented people like your siblings. I’m not sure what went wrong with you though...” while booping her nose as they laid together under a tree for a little picnic. And though she rolled her eyes at him and punched his shoulder for the sly dig at her, she was practically beaming at the fact that he thought her family was smart. Harry had no idea how much that meant to her. Y/n loved her entire family, and she was unbelievably close to them, so it made her entire week to know that Harry, someone she respected and loved so much, recognised how talented and smart each of her family members were. Don’t get her wrong, she didn’t need the validation to know that her family was amazing, but she felt so special knowing he took the time to notice. He did that a lot though. Doing things that meant a lot to her without batting an eye. Saying things that only a person as observant as he could notice, like complimenting her eye colour in the light and asking her to read for him because he constantly mentions how much he loves her voice.

Y/n looked over to the same sweet guy she fell head over heels for, who was sitting on her couch, fidgety as ever, and wondered if they would ever be the same after the very next moments to come. She didn’t want things to change between them, but she was dying inside knowing that he wasn’t hers. And getting over him was not in the question, after the fiasco that happened last week. She just wished she could get inside his head to sate her painful curiosity.

What is he thinking about?

**

What is she thinking about?

It’s the million-dollar question running through his mind. What was she pondering over as she made them tea? Did she want to talk to him? Was she mad that it took him so long to find the balls to face her? Was she as nervous as he was? Was she worried that they would never be the same again like he was?

He was going into panic mode, questioning everything, while probably looking stupid as ever. As much as he regretted how awkward things were now, and the fact that he instigated her to lash out at him a week ago, he was realising that he was not regretting the fact that he did it. He didn’t want her to go out with someone else, and she didn’t. And yes, of course, he feels bad-beyond bad, in fact- for making her cry, and wishes he could take it all back, he also sees this as an opportunity to tell her how he feels about her. He could finally tell her that he thinks about her all the time. About her soft smile, her bright eyes, her melodic laugh, her speaking voice that brings butterflies to his stomach. He could tell her about how he loses himself at work, the grocery store, fuck- even at events- thinking about what she was doing at her house. Was she under her blankets on her couch, watching some corny tv show? Was she baking her signature choc chip cookies that taste like the gods blessed every single biscuit on the tray before they were put in the oven? Was she knitting her cat, Chesnut, another rug to plonk herself down on, with her feet up on the ottoman as she listened to the 7 o’clock news on the radio? Was she writing a paper for another deadline? Something so sophisticated, like the exploration of white and male privilege and how it is ingrained in our society? Something that Harry tried to understand and research so that he could stay in the loop with his smart girl’s interests, but he always struggled with.

It was a huge insecurity of his. Not that his best friend was smarter than he was, no way. He treasured the fact that she could and would whip his ass at a debate on things like the state of the world, or human rights. She could school him on global politics, languages, maths, science, history and literally anything else, and he would be cheering her on. What he was insecure about was her realising that he was probably slowing her down in life. Y/n was well within her rights to kick him out of her life for being nothing but a freeloader and stopping her from reaching her full potential, what with him constantly stopping her from her own life to help him go through shit happening in his. Whenever he was sad, or confused, or upset, Y/n was the first person he would talk to and he feared that she would realise that he was probably taking advantage of her and stop talking to him. And that scared him. It scared him because he knew that she didn't need him at all, but he needed her to do anything in life. Every major and minor decision in his life has been approved by Y/n first, and not because she was a controlling friend who didn’t trust him with his own life, but because Harry needed her validation. Harry Styles, a world-famous superstar, had girls, guys and non-binaries at his feet, following his every beck and call. Harry Styles, who was on the cover of every magazine, known by every celebrity, dated only the most perfect of women, required validation from Y/n, a psychology major at a small university. Y/n, who liked to plan her day out on a to-do list, end up not doing anything on that to-do list and cry about it afterwards. Y/n, who breaks it down to “Murder She Wrote” by Chaka Demus & Pliers like it’s her last 4 minutes and 5 seconds alive on this Earth while making pancakes. Y/n, who cries more when she’s laughing while watching Tik Toks than she does during sad movies.

To celebrities, Y/n was nothing but a regular. But to Harry, she was all. She was the warmth of a sweater that you toss in the dryer for a few minutes to make it extra toasty. She was the pad of butter that you spread onto your pumpkin sourdough toast and it ends up being exactly the amount you wanted. She was the feeling when you are driving home from a long day of interviews and premiers, and you’re on the freeway and the windows down and you just… exist. She is the feeling you get when you watch Pride and Prejudice, and the relief of when you find the perfect word to end a lyric. She is when your shoes fit perfectly, and when you finish a book so utterly fulfilling that you lie there in a trance, looking up at your ceiling at 3 am, wondering how you could have been so lucky to be able to be blessed with an ending like the one you just read. Y/n was all those things and more.

And that’s why he had to tell her he loved her. No matter how scared he was.

***

The electric kettle is finished boiling the tea all too quickly as the bubbling comes to an end and the distinct click of the switch turning back off echoes around the silent apartment. Y/n had poured the scalding hot water into the two cups she had prepared stared into them.

It was time. She had tried to avoid this for as long as possible, but now it was the moment to face the music. She picked up the two mugs of tea and brought them to her lounge where Harry was sitting on her worn in green sofa, staring at her coffee table, eyebrows scrunched, pouted lips, deep in thought, before looking up at her with wide green eyes, and followed her to where she stood in front of him. She passed his mug to him before sitting on the comfy chair a few feet away from the sofa and from him, putting some distance in between them for her sake, so that she wouldn’t try to hug him and say sorry without saying what she needed to say first. Which she needed to start talking about now, so as not to sit in the awkward silence created by the two.

Say something!!

“So…’

Jesus fuck…. was that all you could think of? Wow. I am going to lose my best friend.

Y/n was choking.

“I am so sorry,” Harry’s voice intercepts, raspy from the lack of use, looking up from the coffee table he seemed so interested in. “I am so fucking sorry Y/n. I have no excuse as to why I was making fun of you that day. I pushed too far and I am a shit friend for not noticing that you were already on edge. It was so wrong of me and I am so sorry.” He stopped himself before he started to ramble, looking at her with eyes filled with an emotion she couldn’t decipher.

Y/n felt… unsatisfied. Why did she feel this way? He apologised, right? So why does she feel unfulfilled? Why does she want him to say more? He hit all of the points he had to for a standard apology, so why did she think he hadn’t done enough? Was it that little optimist in her brain hoping he would maybe reveal a slight attraction to her? Maybe tell her that he loves her, and has loved her forever and ever? Confess that she has bewitched him, body and soul so that she didn’t have to? God, was she an idiot. But a lovestruck idiot at that. She bites her tongue and replies.

“Harry, I forgive you. Although you were annoying as ever,” She rolls her eyes and smirks, while he lets out a breathy, half-assed chuckle, showing his acknowledgement at her attempt to ease the lowered yet still prevalent tension. She continues. “ I understand that you were just trying to have fun. I guess I was the one who irrationally lashed out . I am always okay with you poking fun at me, but I was just frustrated and tired and I took it out on you. I’m sorry for the improper communication and I’m sorry for pushing you away when we should’ve just talked…”

“I forgive you too. I think this was just miscommunication on both parts.” He stared into her eyes, almost as if he could sense the discontent in her, but chose to ignore it.

“I guess so.” She halfheartedly answered, not really knowing where to take the conversation next. They had both apologised, but evidently still had things to say. Well, Y/n had things to say, that’s for sure, but she was pretty sure that Harry wanted to say something too. He had that look on his face where he wanted to say something but was forcing himself not to.

What does he want to say? Why can’t he say it to my face? I mean, sure, I’m also hiding shit I wanna say, but I have an excuse. This could ruin our friendship. What does he have to say?

“Great,” Harry replies, trying to fill the awkward pauses and conversation that is being held. He still looked like he had something to say, but seemed like he was not budging.

Well, if he’s not saying anything, I’m not either. Why do I have to confess my feelings and put our friendship on the line if he isn’t even going to say what’s on his mind?

“So, are we good?”

“I don’t know. Are we? I mean, I forgive you and you forgive me, right?”

“Right… No yeah, we’re alright. We’re completely fine!” Y/n replies quickly. Why the fuck would you say that? You’re not fine.

There is a pregnant pause and Y/n has half a better mind to just get up, walk to the bathroom again with her head down and lock herself in there till he leaves again, because she cannot take this awkward conversation. Not with him. She shifts, ready to stand up to get some water, when Harry looks at her, confusion and slight panic setting into his face.

“Wait. I don’t think I’m fine…” She looks up at the boy sitting in front of her, reading the words from her mind like they were scribed on a piece of paper in the blackest of ink, permanent and bold. Her heart stuttered. What else did he want?

“Is everything okay, H?” she tentatively asks. He loses eye contact with her, gaze lowering towards the table in front of him

“I-” he pauses, trying to collect his thoughts while simultaneously trying to explain to her why he wasn’t okay. “I just- fuck” his head falls down, his face inches away from the hot tea in his hands, the humid steam billowing out of the mug and warming his elegant face as he takes a deep breath and tries once more to convey his thoughts. “I don’t want us to be friends again.”

Her heart stops. This could go one of two ways. He could either be confessing his hatred or his adoration for her, and either one would probably end with her imploding. She tries to take a neutral tone when she replies.

“What does that mean, H?”

He looks at her once more. “It’s not enough, Y/n... “

“What?” She is confused. Her friendship isn’t enough? How is she supposed to reply to that?

“I want more. I don’t want us to just be friends. I want to be more with you. I want to do more with you. I want to do things that friends… they shouldn’t do together…”

Is he trying to confess he likes her? Why, in all the ways you could speak, would he choose to speak like that?! She has had enough of him dawdling around his feelings. “Harry, stop being cryptic and fucking tell me what’s going on?!”

“I love you, Y/n! I fucking love you, Y/n. So much. And it is eating me from the inside out. I hate that we can’t be normal anymore, and I hate that you don’t love me the way I love you, but I cannot sit here and pretend everything is fine, because I love you.”

Y/n is stunned. Frozen in her spot. Can’t move, can’t speak, can’t breathe. Stuck in space, and stuck in time.

Holy fucking shit… he loves me…

While Y/n processes the life changing knowledge that her best friend loves her, her best friend conveniently sits next to her, wishing that he was dead for the letdown he was about to receive.

“Say something… please, for the love of God, say something!”

****

She looks up at Harry. Not Harry Styles, playboy, whore, singer, millionaire, but instead; Harry, her best friend of five years, reddened face out of embarrassment. She sees the mortality in his eyes. Feels his presence so heavily in the moment. She is in awe. True awe of him, and his ability to love her. And with that awe- and that stupid look on her face, she reaches up and cradles his face in her hands, brushing her thumbs softly over his plush pink lips. He stands just as still as her, barely breathing, as if it would shatter the fantasy to stardust and he would wake up in his bed, cold shivers running down his spine, as has happened previously whenever he thought of this moment, staring up at his ceiling at 3:40AM wondering why he thought of his best friend in such a way. She creeped closer to his face before stopping a breath away from him, and whispered.

“Is this okay?”

She looked into his eyes, and he looked into hers, both never feeling so alive before. He wishes to tell her that she needn’t ask for his permission, and that he wants to kiss her forever. Eternally locked in an embrace that holds their souls together. But all he can muster is a weak and broken whisper back.

“Please,”

She can hold it for no longer, and leans in the rest of the way, their lips moulding together, for the very first time, eyes fluttering close, as his hands reach to grab her by the hips to straddle him, deepening the kiss even further. And when they part for breath, panting for air with slightly moist lips, they touch foreheads, eyes still closed. Words needn’t be exchanged- everything that yearned to be said was useless, as it could never describe how they truly felt for each other. So hopelessly besotted with one another, that all they could do was breathe together before kissing once more, hoping that their actions could provide even an iota of an idea of how much they love one another.

Two best friends, turned lovers forevermore.

#by bug #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles fluff #hope you have a wonderful day my little pots of sweet tea!

[mollymauk-teafleak]

just as much as all those years ago

Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment over on Ao3!

This is for my ever wonderful girlfriend @spiky-lesbian who is just the Best and will always be the absolute Best and I love her very much. Returning to my favourite comfort AU and of course it’s angst I write.

Trigger warnings: descriptions of an injury, specifically a burn

--------

Memories were funny things for Juno Steel.

They came when he didn’t call them and hadn’t asked for them. When he needed them, he couldn’t find them, only the ragged edged gaps where they’d once been. And they were never whole either. They came as sounds, one random lyric from a song his brother used to warm up to or the sound of his mother’s footsteps in the hall or the way the coffee maker in the HCPD had always sputtered close to the end of its cycle. They came as smells, Buddy’s hairspray or the way the hallways had reeked in his old high school, the milky smell of when his babies had been brand new or Rita’s goddamn salmon things. They were fractured and jumbled and awkward to hold.

And they were so hard to tell from reality. One moment Juno was up to his elbows in soapy water, taking advantage of the boys actually going to bed at a reasonable time to get the dinner dishes done. He was whistling a song that had been on the radio as he’d driven back from the office, tapping the hell of his bare foot against the tiles in time with the beat that existed only in his head. He was tired, he had a few new aches to catalogue and he was perfectly happy.

And the next moment his nose was full of burning ozone, scorched fabric, heat and blood.

Juno froze, hands stilling and letting the plate he’d been soaping drop back into the water. Suddenly he was pulled into a handful of times and places at once. He was at the practise range at the academy, he was trying not to be sick the first time a perp had shot at him, he was pounding on his brother’s bedroom door and begging him to answer, he was lying on the floor of the Carte Blanche and seeing Sasha shake, he was a cop, he was a kid, he was a pirate, he was a twin without a brother. All because of a smell in the air.

And he might have shook himself, pushed it all away and told himself not to be an idiot if he hadn’t heard the voice and realised it wasn’t a memory.

“Mama? I...I’m sorry…”

It wasn’t a memory. Juno whirled, eye wide, heart no closer to restarting in his chest. His oldest daughter stood just behind him, holding her arm tightly with a hand that trembled, with skin that was ashen and a face wet with tears. His old coat was black from elbow to shoulder, one stripe of it completely gone and giving a glimpse of raw, red skin. A laser burn from a distance, it had just glanced off her but it was enough.

She looked so scared.

“Bianca?” he breathed, not really wanting to believe this was actually happening. His daughter was off on a job, of course she could never tell them much about it but she was meant to be off being young and reckless and having fun and swinging on starlight, just like her daddy did.

“I...I thought I got away but I missed one of the guards,” Bianca’s voice was tight, adrenaline clearly the only thing holding back the pain, “Mama…”

Juno swallowed hard, putting a firm, hard foot on his panic and shoving down hard. His baby girl needed him and when it was over he could go and find a quiet corner to scream and cry and rage about it. But for now he needed to get a goddamn grip.

“Bathroom,” he moved forward, sliding an arm to take her weight, just in time as her knees buckled.

Suddenly her free hand was bunched in his shirt tight enough to pinch his skin, his arms holding her as easily as if she was two instead of twenty two. As if she was as small and delicate as she had been then, when he’d first met her and realised just how much he’d be willing to give to keep her safe…

No. Not now.

He went to call for Nureyev, he was doing yoga in their bedroom, but Bianca’s hand tightened and she gave a strained, pained whine through her teeth.

“No,” she begged, breathing coming hard and shallow, the pain of her wound coming in through the cracks as she realised she was safe and didn’t need to run on sheer adrenaline, “Please don’t, not until...not until it’s covered up, I don’t want him to see…”

Juno went to protest but stopped himself, they didn’t have time and he couldn’t say she was wrong. Nureyev didn’t need to see this part, his husband’s field medicine skills weren’t as practised and when he saw the state their daughter was in, it wouldn’t even have mattered. He would freeze and he would break. Juno didn’t blame him in the slightest, he’d nearly gone himself, but he couldn’t hold both of them together.

So he kept quiet and carried his daughter to the poky bathroom of their apartment, moving quickly and quietly as he could past the twin’s bedroom.

“You need to keep talking for me, kiddo,” he said through gritted teeth, as soon as the door was shut behind them, “Tell me how you got in without any of us hearing you. Give me all the details.”

Bee Bee managed a weak chuckle as he sat her down against the edge of the bath, “I’m not giving you all my secrets, mama…”

Juno could dredge a smile for her, if she was going to make the effort, throwing it over his shoulder as he wrenched open the medicine cabinet and pulled out one of the many emergency first aid kits stowed around the apartment.

“Then give me all the moons of Jupiter in size order, biggest to smallest. I know your daddy made you memorise them.”

Bee Bee swallowed hard, shifting as she started to slump, “Um...Ganymede. Callisto…”

“Good, good girl,” Juno was more focused on pulling out the scissors and cutting away the ruins of the coat sleeve so he could start cleaning and dressing it, but as long as he could hear her talking he knew she was conscious.

“Io…oh mama, no, your coat…” Bianca tried to lean away from the blades.

“Bee Bee, I don’t know if you noticed but I care about you a little more than I care about some ratty old coat,” Juno sighed, ignoring her weak protests.

He couldn’t help but wince as he saw her arm, fully exposed. The bolt had only grazed her but clearly it had been set to kill, it had scorched a clean edged, diagonal path along the top of her arm. If she hadn’t been running away, if the person had fired a second before…

Juno shook himself and focused, it was clean and wouldn’t need more than a gentle dousing with cold water which he quickly set to. Don’t think about what could have happened, focus on what’s in front of you.

It broke his heart when she hissed in pain, the second where she clearly wanted to pull away from him, however much he could rationalise it. But he’d been doing some version of this for a long time, from the first time Bee had caught her tiny fingers in the door on the Carte Blanche.

“Hey,” he gently reached over and turned her face to him, “Just look at me, okay? You’re doing so well.”

His brave Bianca took a shaky breath and nodded, ‘Himalia is next. In the size order.”

Juno smiled with a soft, tired pride, motioning for her to go on as he applied a thin layer of salve and started to bind it with the smart tech bandages that wrapped tightly around her arm with no effort from him. They’d hold it fast and safe, healing the torn and blistering skin underneath until barely a trace remained.

But Bianca wouldn’t forget this. This would be another one of her memories, the ones that would come up when least welcome and stop her in her tracks when she thought she was safe.

Juno contented himself with doing what he could for her now. He helped her up, though her legs were still shaky, helping her take shuffling steps to her bedroom, the one they still kept exactly as she’d left it the last time she visited. Neither he nor his husband could ever bring themselves to move anything around, happy to admit to themselves that they were just waiting until their daughter came home again. So the old stuffed animals were still lining the bottom of the bed, the books were still piled on the nightstand, there were still soft blankets ready for her to sink down onto.

“Right,” Juno brushed a hand over her curls, “Now water, painkillers and lots of rest. Got it, kiddo?”

“Yes mama,” she sighed, leaning into his touch, “Um...I think I want to see daddy now.”

He saw the guilt flicker through her dark eyes and he softened it with a kiss to her forehead. He understood the instinct to protect people you cared about, feeling like you couldn’t let them see you cry or fall or hurt because you’d see just how much they cared about you and it could be so scary. Knowing so much of someone else’s happiness rested with you.

He left her to get settled, needing to take a few deep breaths as soon as the door closed. Just a little longer.

Nureyev was just stepping out of their room, his long hair pushed back from his face with a band that had probably once been Bianca’s. He looked calm, content, and his whole face lit up when he saw his wife walking towards him. Having to watch all that unravel, that would hurt Juno as much as any of it.

He tried to speak clearly, concisely, only repeating again and again that she was fine, that there would be no lasting damage or even a mark. But he wasn’t sure any of it actually got through after he finally said the words ‘Bianca’s been shot’. Because that was when he pushed past him and started running down the hall. Cursing under his breath, Juno took off but couldn’t hope to catch his husband on those legs, only getting there when the bedroom door was already open.

He was braced for tears, he was braced for the anger that sometimes came when Nureyev was feeling too much to hold within himself and had to lash out to try and grasp some control. He was braced to have to pull his husband out of there.

What he found was his husband and his daughter embracing as tightly as her wound would allow.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” Bianca was sniffling, har face pressed to his shoulder, where it had always fit so perfectly ever since she was small, “I know you said to check, you said and I thought I did but…”

Nureyev shook his head, his own voice thick but steady, “No, no, it’s okay. You did nothing wrong, as long as you’re okay.”

“Promise?” Bianca mumbled, still sounding a little like a child wondering what her punishment would be.

“Oh my treasure,” Nureyev drew back to hold her face in his hands, “I promise. All I care about is that you’re whole and well and...and next time, you will see it. You’ll get better and better every time, just like I did. I just couldn’t be more thankful it was no worse but...next time will be better.”

Bianca’s face flooded with obvious relief, she’d clearly been worried her daddy’s first response would have been to ground her. Juno had to admit, he’d expected it too.

Nureyev only touched her bandages lightly, checking everything was in place, “But...if you wanted to stay here for just a few days just while you healed? We could make room for you?”

Bianca gave a tired smile, rolling her eyes, “Only if you could make the room, of course.”

Juno leaned against the doorframe, giving them a few more moments together before joining them, giving Bianca some time before having to endure both of her parents fussing over her. As he watched Nureyev draw Bee Bee back in to hug her tightly and let her rest against him, he felt other times overlapping it, other times he’d seen that light in Nureyev’s eyes, the smile he saved only for their babies, the way they clung to him and looked to him for safety. He felt the years they’d spent together as parents, the memories sending warmth running through his chest, soothing the anxiety still gnawing there, giving him a few more hours before he’d need to release it. Hopefully Nureyev would be in his arms by then.

Memories were funny things for Juno Steel. But some were everything.

#jupeter #juno steel #Peter nureyev #Bianca nureyev #jupeter dads au #hurt/comfort #tpp #the penumbra podcast

[painless-innit-colourful]

‘Weeping Headstones - Prologue’

The beginning of a Doctor Who AU I’ll never finish: Tommy and Tubbo are all set to hang out and go stargazing when- Well, they never can get a bit of peace, can they? Feat. some suspicious statues in the shape of Weeping Angels...

It promises to be a beautiful starry night. That’s what Foolish apparently told Tubbo earlier that day as he hung around Snowchester. Tommy doesn’t know how he knows that or how far he trusts it to be true, but if he’s right, he’s glad Tubbo’ll be here to spend it with him. It’s been a good week or so since they’ve had the chance to go stargazing; between bad weather, Tubbo’s responsibilities in Snowchester, Tommy’s new hotel project and yesterday’s nuke test, they’ve both been rather busy lately.

Just the thought of it makes him clear his throat on reflex, and it brings a smile to his lips. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t have radiation poisoning. Like, eighty percent. Okay, maybe he should’ve been more careful, but since he and Tubbo emerged from Dream’s creepy-ass vault with their lives Tommy’s been feeling rather indestructible. Not to bring Hamilton back into it, but he couldn’t seem to die. Besides, they had medicine, he hadn’t been accidentally hit by a nuke, and Dream was in the prison. Nothing could possibly pose him any threat right now.

As if to immediately prove him wrong, there’s a sharp ‘TWANG’ from only a few feet behind him, accompanied by a sharp whistle of air. Tommy’s reflexes from fighting a dozen wars and never knowing who to trust kick in, and he sinks down on the bench as an arrow sails through the empty space where his head just was. He has no armour and only a random sword on him: on the other hand, it’s just a skeleton. He draws his sword, dropping to one knee using the bench as a shield. The skeleton stands on the path outside his house, nocking another arrow on its bow. Tommy takes advantage of that brief moment, vaulting the side of the bench to run at the skeleton. He lands one hit on the wretched thing’s shoulder when he hears a familiar hiss from behind him to the right. He lets out a cry of surprise and swings in a wide arc, striking the creeper that had also snuck up on him and sending it back a couple metres or so. He scrambles back in the direction of L’Manberg, watching as the creeper shuffles forward and the skeleton fires a lazy shot to the side of it.

“You okay?” Tubbo sticks his head out of Tommy’s doorway, obviously alerted by Tommy’s surprised squeaking. “Nothing I can’t handle.” He says quickly, darting forward and delivering a second strike to the creeper, sending it reeling back again. Tubbo appears to disregard his statement, levelling a loaded crossbow at the skeleton and pinging a bolt off its skull. It makes a dull thudding sound and leaves a sizable dent. Tubbo reloads again, but the skeleton shoots first. Tommy doesn’t even need to dodge, as the arrow sticks in the creeper with a sound like someone stepping on a stick of TNT - don’t ask how he knows what that sounds like. There’s another hollow thud as Tubbo cracks another bolt off the skeleton’s body, and the magic holding its bones together disintegrates along with its form.

“We can call that one a team effort.” Tubbo shoots him a wink and goes to retreat back inside when he’s stopped by a small gasp from Tommy. He turns back, “What is it?” The blonde boy is sifting delicately through the pile of ash left by the creeper, revealing a round of black shellac like a palaeontologist uncovering a precious fossil. Neither boy can suppress the grin that forms. “Which is it?” Tubbo asks, and Tommy lifts up the disc to show the red centre. “Blocks again.” He leans back and gets to his feet. “You want it?”

“Sure.” Tommy passes it to Tubbo with a gentleness reserved only for discs and injured friends, and Tubbo gives him a genuine smile as he goes to put it in his ender chest. As he carefully puts it away, a warm feeling spreads through him. Contentment. He keeps an ear out for any more Tommy mishaps.

The boy in question is currently messing with the jukebox, resetting Cat since it had stopped playing since his encounter with the skeleton-creeper duo. The familiar synth melody begins to play, and Tommy’s about to recline back on his bench when he hears a series of small crashing noises, like someone’s dropped a frying pan down a flight of stairs. Furthermore, the noise came from the opposite direction to his house. He looks in the direction of the downtown SMP but sees nothing- No, wait.

Sticking just above the footpath is the top of a head. Someone’s crouched on the Prime Path stairs up to his house, and they’re watching him. Tommy maintains eye contact while getting up, going for a staring contest to psyche them out, whoever they are; he hasn’t figured that part out yet. They’ve got grey hair and a very stony gaze that turns his stomach over, but apart from that, he can’t make out anything since their body is out of his sightline. He makes his way over, head whirling with thoughts. Is this the apparently infamous Addison Rae??

Tubbo’s communicator buzzes unexpectedly. He yanks the microphone down to his mouth with two fingers, hands full of cr*p from Tommy’s chests. “Tubbooooo…” From the sound of Tommy’s voice, he’s making a regretful face and has just done something stupid. “On a scale of one to started a war, how bad is it?” A loud sigh is transmitted through the headphones in regrettably crisp quality. “Different scale. This is like that time I mistook a scarecrow for an attractive woman.” Tubbo sniggers. “What happened?”

“I feel like a foolish man, Tubbo.” “What did you do?” “I thought someone was watching me from the stairs, right? But it’s just this creepy-ass statue.” He plows through Tubbo’s giggles, kicking the statue with his foot in irritation. Part of its arm goes with it. “I’m being trolled with an oversized garden gnome.” “Weird. What’s it look like?” “It’s- It kinda looks like it belongs in a graveyard actually. It’s an angel, but its hands are on the stairs and everything, like it crawled up here to get me.” “Ah yes, angels. The most terrifying of monsters.” “I’m gonna ask Foolish if there’s a family relation-” “Oh god don’t-” “Or if I can kick it off the stairs like the other one. There’s a broken one down there.” He relayed, peering down at a pile of grey limbs and ash on the ground far below.

“I say pay it no mind. I’m nearly done.” Tubbo passes on, dumping an armful of saplings into a corner of the appropriate chest, inventively named ‘nature sh*t’. “How long does it take to find drugs in my chests? If it’s that hard, we have a serious problem, and not just with your eyesight.” Tommy complains, putting on a show of frustrated gestures to no one as he makes his way back to the bench. He flops down, ignoring the acute feeling of being watched sourcing from the statue on the stairs. “Tommy, looking in your chests is like trying to find the button in Pogtopia.” The blonde boy sits up straight, his back cracking in several places. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Tommy can hear the smile in Tubbo’s voice the next time he speaks. “Lot of stuff that looks about right, but none of it actually does what you want it to.”

Tubbo hears the beginning of a reply masked with an undignified splutter, and he’s about to shoot something back first when the scream rips the sarky comment out of his mouth. He sprints up Tommy’s stairs and throws himself out the door, crossbow levelled… But there’s nothing there. Also, there’s no Tommy.

Panic starts to rise. He scours the immediate area, peering over the edge of the hill, along the path towards the hotel, all the way to the stairs down to L’Manberg, checking the houses opposite Tommy’s and down the stairs where Tommy said the angel statue was. And while there’s a broken pile of stone far below as he described… Whatever Tommy saw on the stairs is gone. 

There’s no time to worry about that.  “Tommy!”  His thoughts race. What could’ve happened?  The wind starts to pick up, and it brings a whirring sound only just obscured by the dying strains of Cat.  “Tommy?! C’mon man, this isn’t funny!”  It can’t have been a mob, there was nothing there. There’s no one else in the area; even so, Tubbo loads his crossbow and keeps it handy. He hasn’t been killed: there’s no blood and no body.

Could Dream have escaped the prison?

The thought sends a chill through him, rivalled only by a frigid Snowchester morning. Tommy hasn’t told him, properly, about his exile yet. There’s still a lot of leftover feelings involved for both of them. Even so, it’s plain to see: Dream hurt Tommy in ways neither of them had dealt with before: ways they should never have to deal with. If Dream were to get out of Pandora’s Vault and then go for Tommy before anyone could warn them…

Tubbo has his phone out and is halfway through typing Sam’s number when a small noise behind him causes his danger sense to start blaring like a nuclear siren. He turns, standing near Tommy’s door again, just in time to see a figure pass overheard, leaping from the roof of Tommy’s house and landing ahead of him. The figure makes a beeline for the bench, or more accurately the jukebox, and Tubbo watches dumbfounded as the figure lifts Cat from where it’s playing with practised ease and places it into their coat. The mystery thief is facing the wrong way for Tubbo to see their face, but he does take note of the pink hair tied back in a small ponytail, the ruby-red, fur-lined cloak and the sturdy boots leaving tread marks in the grass before they hop over the edge of the hill. He runs forward to perhaps get a shot in as they escape, only to be met with an empty landscape and the beginnings of a very pretty sunset.

He drops his phone to his side, jaw slack and nerves shaking. Someone’s trolling him and Tommy by moving an angel statue around. Then Tommy suddenly vanishes with a scream. And the icing on the absolute disaster cake: a possibly very powerful enemy’s just made off with one of the discs.

“Oh, f*ck me.”

#do you know how long i've had this sitting in my google drive #since February #and it's june now!! (i keep forgetting how far through the year we are) #anyway i lost motivation for this but why not show off what i have? #who knows #maybe one day... #dream smp #crim writes #tommyinnit #tubbo #clingy duo #dsmp fic

[dragonologist-in-the-making]

I’ve Got You

Pairing: James x reader

Summary: When the reader goes way overboard to study for an upcoming test, James is there to comfort her and make sure she stays healthy.

A/N: I feel like I’ve read a fic similar to this concept so all credits to them, although I can’t remember who it is, sorry (please let me know if you do!)! Hopefully this is different enough to still keep it interesting. Also I’m sorry for the ending, wasn’t quite sure how to finish it.

Wordcount: 1.7k

Warnings: the reader is making very irresponsible choices, this is not a healthy study routine, make sure you take regular breaks and that you eat please!

“We’ll be having a test in a fortnight on everything we’ve learned so far this term.” Flitwick told the class as they began to pack away, and (y/n) groaned internally, knowing how much work she would have to put in to do well in this test. The N.E.W.T charms were extremely difficult, and she had been struggling with the workload she had already too much to go back and practise old lessons too, but she knew that had to be a priority now.

She walked back up to the common room for her free period, dropping her textbooks off in her dorm and taking all of her charms work downstairs to start the mountain of work she knew she had to do, the familiar mixture of stress and panic already rising in her chest.

Once she was downstairs she was greeted cheerily by her boyfriend, James Potter, who also had this period free, and you always spent the time studying together. “I thought we could work on the Transfiguration homework today?” He suggested, gesturing down to the books he had brought with him.

“I’m really sorry, Jamesy, Flitwick just told us about this test we have in two weeks, and I really need to study for it.” She told him, heading over to the sofa and setting all her notes down in front of her. The raven-haired boy came and sat next to her, reassuring her that it was okay and he was there to help if she needed it. “Thank you, you’re the best.” She grinned, leaning in and planting a quick kiss on his lips, before settling in and studying with extreme intensity. For the hour, the only sounds that could be heard were the scrapings of quills on parchment and the mutterings of incantations under her breath, along with the huffs of frustration as the spells didn’t work as well as they should.

She was only broken out of her concentration when James placed a hand on her shoulder, reminding her of the time and that they needed to head to their lesson. She nodded, running back up to her dorm to grab what she needed for the rest of her lessons that day, but taking all her charms work with her too, planning on reviewing her notes in every spare second she had.

The days had been going much too fast for (y/n)’s liking, and she was no where near ready to take this test. She could tell that James was growing increasingly worried for her, calmly taking her hands in the corridors to stop them from practising wand movements beneath the sleeves of her robes, and would poke her when she started whispering incantations under her breath.

“(y/n?)” He asked, trying to get her attention. They were all sat in the Great Hall for dinner, and she was sat with her head buried in a book, feverishly soaking in the words on the page, trying to absorb all the information. Upon complete silence from her, no sign that she had even heard her name being called, he sighed, moving to pull the book from her hands.

This she did notice, and quickly snatched it back, holding it close to her chest defensively. “What?” She asked, clearly irritated, although James knew this was because of how stressed she was.

“You have to eat something, love.” He told her, voice gentle as he pointed to the completely empty plate in front of her, having not even bothered to put food on her plate. Sighing, knowing that she wouldn’t win this argument, (y/n) started piling food on to her plate, anything closest to her, not caring what it was and ate quickly, hoping to get back to her book before long. Once James seemed satisfied and had turned to answer a question of Remus’, she quickly slipped a flask out from the inside of her robes and took a swig of the potion inside, immediately feeling the sluggishness clear from her brain, and she returned to her work.

Her habits continued in much the same fashion, progressively worsening over the course of the next week, until it was three days from the test and no one even tried to take the books away from her anymore, wanting to keep their heads on their necks. She was in her usual spot in the common room, neck aching from bending over the books for hours. “(y/n), darling, come to bed.” James cooed, wrapping his arms around her from behind and pressing a soft kiss into her neck. She leaned back, allowing herself the short break to just feel happy in James’ arms before she pouted, remembering how far behind she was.

“I wish I could, James, but I’ve still got so much to learn.” She complained, gesturing to all the notes in front of her. James broke away from the kisses he was trailing up and down her jaw, pulling her closer to him as he whined.

“But I haven’t seen you in weeks. Plus, I know you’re going to ace this test, I saw you cast a perfect Protean Charm yesterday. You need to believe in yourself because I know you can do it.”

“Let me just finish this last section, and then I’ll meet you upstairs. I love you.” She proposed, satisfied when she heard him hum in agreement, return her sentiment, and felt the coldness on her back as he moved away from her. He walked towards the boys dorms, turning around to give her one last brilliant smile. She knew that as soon as his head hit the pillow he would be asleep, and wouldn’t notice that she had carried on studying much later than promised. Feeling a slight tinge of guilt at her broken promise, she took another swig from the potion she kept on her person at all times now, working into the early hours of the morning.

She met James at the bottom of the stairs in the morning, he was waiting for her like he always had. She was tired from the little sleep she had managed to get, and even that was restless, so she had made sure to drink more of her potion before meeting him, to get her through her first classes.

“Are you okay?” He asked, bringing a hand to her cheek in concern. “You look awful.”

“Gee, thanks, boyfriend.” (y/n) laughed, trying to distract him from the way he was studying her.

“No, really.” He insisted. “You’re awfully pale, your eyes are bloodshot, you’re completely restless.” He noted, pointing at where her fingers were tapping against her thigh, which she tried to stop once he had pointed it out but found that the second she did, another part of her body insisted on moving in some way instead.

“I think I’m just coming down with a cold.” She insisted, beginning their walk to Transfiguration, the first class of the day. “You know, Alice had one not too long ago, I’m sure I just caught it from her.” Unconvinced, James followed her, noting how her steps wobbled and she seemed to stumble too often for it to be put down to clumsiness.

He wasn’t really worried, though, until they had walked into McGonagall’s classroom and she had promptly collapsed into his arms.

Within minutes he had carried her to the hospital wing, where Madam Pomfrey had been hovering over her, casting various spells and asking James questions to see what was wrong with her to be able to fix her. It wasn’t until one of her spells made a small vial fly into her hands from the inside pocket of (y/n)’s robes that Madam Pomfrey tutted, a dismayed expression on her face.

“Test coming up?” She asked, looking at James.

“Yes, she has a charms one, she’s been studying a lot but I think this is more than that.” He told her, looking down at your unconscious form.

“You’re right.” She affirmed, holding up the vial she had pulled from his girlfriend’s robes. “She’s been abusing potions to help her study for it.” James blanched, looking down at (y/n) and wondered how he hadn’t seen her taking something she shouldn’t have, to keep her studying. How could he have been so careless? “Now Potter, don’t go blaming yourself. She didn’t want you to see it, so you wouldn’t have. But this stuff is dangerous, taken once, possibly twice and it’ll just enhance your concentration and help you focus for a few hours, but taken routinely, as it looks like Miss (y/l/n) here has been doing, and it can begin to have much more long-lasting effects. She may have been having trouble settling into a sleep, and her body may have been twitching. If this carried on, there could have been irreversible effects. The mind needs to slow down sometimes, you know, and there have certainly been cases from this potion, that not letting it do just that has simply driven them to insanity. I suspect her passing out was a way of her body trying to get some much needed rest.” Madam Pomfrey finished, taking the vial with her as she went to collect some medicine to help you return to your normal state quickly, as James quickly sat next to you on the bed, heavy with the information he had just received.

Slowly, her eyes began to open as James traced his thumb in circles on her palm, quickly pressing her shoulders down as she tried to sit up in bed.

“(y/n)” he started, feeling a lump in his throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t see.” He settled on saying, voice cracking on the last word. She quickly realised what was happening, and was quick to squeeze James’ hand.

“You weren’t supposed to, Jamesy. I wasn’t thinking straight, I was in a one-track mindset. It was so stupid, I’m so sorry.” She cried, tears falling over her cheeks as she realised the gravity of what she had been doing, and how it had affected the people around her as well as herself.

“Hey, we all do things we’re not proud of, but you’re okay and that’s what matters.” He reassured her, lying down and pulling her into his arms as the sobs continued to wrack through her body. “I’ve got you, (y/n), and I’m never going to let you go.”

#harry potter #harry potter fic #james potter #james potter x reader #james x reader #potter x reader #prongs x reader #prongs #marauders #marauders era #marauders fic

[imnotwolverine]

The marriage pact - Thriller nights

Henry Cavill x OC Alice - multi-chapter

< Part 11 | Part 12 Thriller nights | Part 13 >

Disclaimer: strong language, some angst and reference to cheating

Author’s note: Do you like horror movies, darling fic-readers? I must admit I don’t, most specifically because I just have to vivid an imagination. Jaws? I didn’t dare to swim in a pool for 3 months straight..and it was the middle of summer. Yep, I know it’s silly. Are there any movies you definitely wouldn’t watch again? 

Word count: 1.509

(Link to my Masterlist)

--

Dear readers,

Other then enjoying my chocolate cake, I was just cleaning up my DVD collection and what a wonderful collection of totally bloody horror movies I have apparently collected over the years. It is really, truly, quite horrible actually. Why would a sweet, innocent person like myself have such a twisted desire for watching the dark and obscure? Why did I watch IT more times than Pride & Prejudice?

It’s quite fascinating really, and most likely this horror fascination of mine has something to do with emotional control; we can experience certain feelings like anxiousness whilst still being in a safe environment. And you know me by now..I like being in control.

So what kind of movies do you like, dear readers? And what do you think that says about you? I’d love to hear from you.

Cleaning up her room and her thoughts,

Ali

‘So, thank you so much for coming Miss Taylor. Please take your time to work through the information I shared with you and we are looking forward to hearing from you again. You can contact me on the mail address on my card, or call me, and please..do not fret to ask me anything.’

‘Thank you doctor.’ I nodded, quite overcome with the overload of information and questions that had circulated through this small doctor’s office in St Helier’s Jersey General Hospital. I had simply requested an in-take, but hadn’t been quite ready for how deep and personal all this had been. 

More than a few times throughout the intake had I felt tears well up in my stubborn eyes, the simple thought of how difficult this might be becoming, nearly too much to handle. The doctor had been most kind and informative; they could not do most of the procedures here, so I’d have to fly up and down to London every month. And there was this physical exam they had to do..and I had to start tracking my ovulation cycle, take specific medicine and vitamins. And..most importantly..I had to figure out what I wanted to do with this “fresh new relationship” of mine - which I had mentioned only very briefly.

I had waved it off, signalling I had little hope that it would work anyways, to which the doctor had given me an inquisitive eyebrow raise, but thankfully she hadn’t pried any further.  

With slightly wobbly legs I stepped out of her office and thanked her again, my feet quite automatically walking back the path they had came; through the long hallway, past the waiting room and then to the elevator. But..I never quite made it to the elevator in one line, my eyes catching something quite unexpected in the waiting room.

‘Chris?’ I gasped quietly, seeing a familiar face amongst the waiting patients, a very young blonde woman right beside him, their hands entangled. I felt my heart, my soul, my everything, sink like a block of concrete to the bottom of the ocean.

She was expecting.

His large hazelnut eyes stared at me in slight shock, hands quickly disentangling from his new..lover. Lover. He had a pregnant lover. Was it his? OH FUCKING HELL. ‘Ali..hey..what a..surprise.’ He scrambled up to his feet and pulled a warm smile to his hesitant face. He felt most obviously very caught in the act.

How many months would she be? Obviously more than three or four months. Had he..had he been..cheating on me? I stared blankly at him, not quite sure of what to say.

‘Quite a surprise.’ I muttered, nodding while looking over his shoulder at the surprised looking woman. ‘It’s always good to see a friend.’ Chris smiled, pressing a large hand on my shoulder to steer me to a corner of the waiting room. ‘..Look..please don’t make a scene. Please.’ He whispered, his mouth remaining curled in a wide, friendly smile, acting as if nothing was amiss.

I couldn’t breathe. I just..couldn’t breathe, my eyes staring at him with disbelief.

HOW COULD HE?!

Wishing to not show him my tears - tears that long dared to spill during the doctor’s visit - I quickly shook my head and wished him a good day, my feet hasting off towards the elevator.

HOW COULD HE, HOW COULD HE?!

It seemed to take ages before the metal doors of the elevator finally slid closed, my eyes pricking with angry tears. And as the elevator started to descend, my organs feeling the mild drop of the cabin, my tears started to descend too. Heavy, wet and desperate. How could he..how could he…ARGHHH!!!

—

‘Hen.’ I muttered through the phone, my voice still weak and cracking.

‘Hey you.’ He said gently, easily picking up on my distress, his voice even lower and more soothing than usual.

‘Can I come over for a hug?’ My voice was but a mere whisper, but he heard it all the same. ‘Of course sweetie.’

Oh Henry, if only all things in life were this easy.

—

‘Hey.’ I stalled at the doorway of his parents’ study, the desk Henry was sitting at completely filled with large piles of what appeared to be scripts and administrational work. He looked up, his face immediately relaxing into one of tenderness. He sighed and turned in his chair, tapping both hands on his thick thighs, gesturing me to come sit on his lap.

No words were needed as I gladly crawled into the warmth of his embrace, my nose still sniffling after a near hour of non-stop crying in my bedroom. I needed him and I was glad he was here.

I could feel his hand just gently running through my hair, all the way back down to my lower back, his face studying mine. We just sat there for a few long minutes, quietly, some lone tears drifting down from my red eyes.

‘I’m just so sad.’ I muttered, another spill of tears bursting out, flooding my reddened cheeks. I gulped and heaved, not being able to stop myself from releasing all the sorrow and pain. 

It was just something about Henry that made me lower my guards. A little more each time we were together.

‘It’s okay, Ali. Sshh..’ Henry’s voice swam warm and soothing through the shell of my ear, his breath brushing through my messy hair. Oh how I wished I could just disappear right here in his lap. How good and fitting an end it would be for me.

Alice, the girl who fell down the deep black hole of adulthood until she was no more.

And how awful I was for not telling him why I was crying so. I had to make sure I’d tell him, or it would simply become too difficult. But not now. First..tears.

More long minutes crawled by as the new onslaught of tears finally subsided, Henry still not saying a word, his large arms just keeping me close and safe, hands running deliberate circles over my back.

I sniffled one more time, wiping the tears on the sleeve of my shirt before finally sitting up a bit and looking Henry in the eye. Those big, blue oceans of care and comfort looking back at me with…love. Or something like that.

‘Thanks for that.’ I breathed, inhaling deep and sharp. Henry smiled and shrugged simply. ‘I’m glad to be of service milady.’

I sighed, looking over his desk, an iPad laying forlorn in the corner. ‘Yep, read your blog.’ He hummed, smiling into my ear. I raised an eyebrow at him, my eyes red and agitated from all the tears. ‘You don’t have to, you know.’ I whispered. He chuckled, shaking his head. ‘I wouldn’t miss them for the world. I love knowing what is going on with you.’

‘And horror movies..?’

‘Mm..you know me..can’t stand females screaming.’

‘Oh papa bear gets protective then, hmm?’ I teased, the first glimmer of a smile appearing back on my lips. Henry laughed. ‘Maybe a little.’

‘Oh…Henry…come save me!’ I swooned with a bit of theatricality, my hand moving to rest on my forehead, eyes gazing desperately into the distance. When he didn’t immediately respond, his eyebrows just rising in amusement, I further exaggerated my flailing body, letting myself near drop off his lap.

‘Wow..’ Henry quickly grabbed onto me, pulling me more firmly into his chest, ‘..okay..I’ve got you.’ He sniffled. We looked at each other for an amused second before we both burst out laughing, my face now happily snuggling into his neck and my nose sniffing up that undefinable smell that was Henry’s musk. I was the fair maiden in the prince’s arms, ready to take on any horror that was to be survived.

And darn..How I loved his smell.

‘Hmm…thanks for allowing me to be here Hen.’ I hummed, making him lean back a little his large thumb moving to stroke over my heated cheeks, removing the last of the remains of salty tears from my skin. Without words required he leaned into me, offering me a much more practised kiss then that very awkward..first..puppy..

‘Ooh..hair..’ He muttered, hovering back a little and reaching for his mouth to pull out a hair.

OH GODS…we both laughed aloud.

‘This is terrible.’ I blushed through our laughter. ‘No it’s not.’ Henry smiled, brushing all hair out of my face before pulling me back to his lips. ‘It’s perfect.’ He whispered onto my lips, trying again.

—

And yes, we watched a horror movie that night from my vast collection of classics, Henry’s arm near choking me whenever a woman screamed, his muscles tightening around my rib cage until I was sure there would be bruises. But ..I wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

My heart and soul fluttered, and that is all I really wanted and needed, my reservations for a possible relationship with Henry slowly fading into the background. 

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#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x author #henry cavill x OC #henry cavill fluff #fluff #romcom #horror #case of the ex #cheating #planned motherhood #cuddles #henry bear #the marriage pact #thriller nights

[tomoeaoyama]

FC Drabble/Prompt: ‘Your characters most cherished person’...

A cup of tea, served in silence.

She looked up from her papers, the desk strewn with medical equipment and various tinkered items. Several glass jars contained odds and ends, eyeballs and sinew, bones and goo. A small crystal lit lamp shed enough light that she didn’t have to push her glasses back often and pinch at her nose bridge, unlike the small lamps she was used to from her time at home, guttering often when the odourless oil was running low. However even if her eyes weren’t tired, she felt it in her bones, long hours of studying at her desk in the evenings after work, hemmed in by towering shelves filled with books and only the deep cushioned chair as her companion against true exhaustion.

Holding back her initial waves of irritability, Tomoe put down her quill and leaned back long enough to see the door to the study close. Then she reached out and took the cup in her hands, warming herself with it and closing her eyes so her sense of smell was enhanced, taking in the rich, warm notes of the tea. If a scent could ever be heard, tea surely would be; a melody that played against the backdrop of her life. Over the years, the taste and the brands and the mixes had changed, but so had she.

Where was the girl who had worried in her room between schooling and her duties at the shrine, who had agonised over telling her parents that she wished to be a doctor, and not a civil planning officer? The older teen who had first heard the wind calling her, when aether flared through her veins so strongly that her sickness had left her bedridden for weeks, but each evening when her fever grew strong, the wind was always whispering comfortingly to her. The young adult, fresh in medical apprenticeship, and the first time someone had died in her arms; how she had wept for hours and hours, comforted when her youngest sister had hurried into her room and clung to her, not understanding why she had cried such. The day of occupation, the falling sounds of warfare, the panic in her chest as she had pushed through milling crowds at the docks of the enclave to try and get to her house, and finding the compound broken and deserted bar the scattered remains of some family, blood soaking into the sand. The tired woman who had finally been forced to take refuge in lands that were not Doman, were not even of the Ruby Seas and the East; who plied her trade with a dead, empty feeling inside of her, where the little embers of kindness she had so forcefully protected were already going out.

In each scene, each stage of life, she had tea. She had either watched her parents brew it, brewed it herself, watched Suzuran take the tea ceremony with graceful and almost effortless motions, or like now, had someone serve it to her.

Pushing back her chair with a soft groan of locked up muscles from long hours sitting at her desk, Tomoe slid to her feet and walked in circles on the deep pile carpet, every so often bunching her toes, all the while drinking her tea.

It was good to the last drop.

Smiling to herself, she put the cup down and gave the door one last, fond look, before returning to her all important, all consuming work.

He never said a word against it. If anything, he encouraged her as no one ever had, apart from possibly Suzuran. For Tomoe, medicine wasn’t just a job, it was a passion. She couldn’t adequately find the right words to explain why she felt that way, why she had this need to involve herself so deeply in her work that it melted all other aspects of her life away, leaving her with razor sharp focus on bones and muscles, on blood and hearts and the tick-tock of cells at work.

When she worked long hours at the office, he brought her lunch if he wasn’t at his own work, sometimes adventuring away from where she had a small clinic and they would sit together and eat. Whenever she was so busy that there was no time to eat, he instead brewed her a robust tea and brought instead the sweet treats she loved so much; taiyaki, bean-jam filled fish pastries.

If she came home and spoke first, he knew she was having a good day, and with one another they would cook dinner and talk, shoulder to shoulder and laughing shyly together. But when she came home with a face not too dissimilar to a thundercloud, he would let her go quietly into the bathtub and soak until she felt better, never saying a word about either the sounds of frustration or sobs that permeated through the walls.

When the snows came and they went to Coerthas to visit his family and friends, business connections in the wool foundries and dye merchants bringing in new wares, she felt deeply melancholy and would spend hours staring out of a thickly paned window at the swirling flurries of white, seeing ghosts. He would cover her with a knitted blanket made of chunky, homespun wool and if he noticed the pensive distance in her eyes, distract her with small talk. He encouraged her to tell him about her customs and he showed those of his own culture to her; he set up a small shrine for her, replete with incense and the offertory altar and he would kneel with her and listen to her talk when she felt the sadness most of all, because each new year was another year she was more removed from the family she had loved so deeply and strongly.

It was hours later when she looked up from her notes to the small window, noting that bright daylight streamed in as the grey of dawn faded away. Tomoe stood, once more cracking her back and picking up the teacup with the saucer, she set herself to the kitchen and with practised motions, used to the space she shared with him, began a new pot of tea. Watching the leaves churn through the heated whirlpool, the eddies of colour and flavour sliding through each current and testing the flavour with a teaspoon so she was sure it had steeped long enough.

Deciding it was good enough, she set the tray with the proper earthenware and lifted it. Blinking through the dust highlighted by the golden rays of a new day, she swayed her way down the halls and steps to their bedroom and pushed the door open with her back, only to pause as a bemused, loving smile gently filled her sharp featured face.

Laid on his back with an arm overhead, his shirt thrown wide open so she could pick out his lovely skin, the beautiful bones of him and the thick pulse of life beating in the vein at the hollow of his arched throat. Rich brown hair was scattered back from a face deep with sleep, etched with a scar she promised one day she would take away. Carefully she crossed the room, tip-toeing around forgotten clothes and to the partly drawn curtains, and with the light illuminating she leaned forward.

His brown eyes opened to see her, and she just smiled, pulling her face back from his and offered him a single cup of tea, serving it in silence.

#ffxiv #ff14 #final fantasy 14 #final fantasy xiv #square enix #balmung #crystal data centre #Tomoe Aoyama #tsundoctor #the tsundoctor #tsundere #doctor #more tsun than dere #tsunshark #owl eyes #surgeon #medic #conjury #raen #au ra

[youarejesting]

BTS Seoul mates: Flower Couple.4

[MASTERLIST]

Pairing: Jin x Reader

Summary: Jin has always had the words written on his wrist and when the fans found out they all took turns claiming to be his one and only. However, after a tiring fanmeet and greet Jin finds His Destiny. His Seoul mate.

Announcement:

I am sorry I have failed you.

I was planning on writing a fair amount tonight but I actually think I have a cold my throat has seriously started to burn, I might take some medicine and sleep it off if I can otherwise I might make it worse I am so sorry.

Jin looked beautiful as ever. However, he felt like a wreck. They had performed on stage at the Melon Music Awards. It was an elaborate work of art that had taken weeks to prepare training gruelling hours to perform perfectly and it all paid off. Except for the minor setback to Namjoon’s package, but he was hearing about it now. 

“I swear I was going to die, I was changing a new timing belt, and you decided it was a good time to hit yourself in the balls, I have never received a hit to the vagina before. Hell, I was crying on the repair and service floor. How are your balls?”

Jhope and Jungkook broke out in laughter. They had never heard anyone outright ask such a personal and hilarious question. They knew he would never be able to live it down. 

Namjoon blushed quietly trying to answer, “they are fine, we have to go, so I will call you when we get back to the hotel”

Jimin turned to Jin and grabbed his shoulder, looking seriously concerned. “Jin, How are your balls”

“What’s wrong with your balls?” You said walking into the dressing room with the other soulmates who stopped looking serious. The room fell silent at your words for a mere second before the boys erupted in laughter, Namjoon’s face turned bright red. 

Jimin laughed with his whole body and slipped off the arm of the couch, falling onto his plump backside. Aster rushed to his side lifting him bending him over the arm “Jiminie your poor Jibooty” Giggling and practically laying over him Aster rubbed Jimin’s butt making sure he didn’t break his tail bone. Well, that’s what Jin thought she was doing until she gasped looking Jin dead in the eyes. “Oh no Jimin your butt, it’s cracked in two”

The band members and their soulmates were hysterically falling over one another at the jokes and they took two large Starex vans back to Hannam The Hill. They passed through the security and parked in the lock-up garage. Namjoon Groaned getting out of the van still a little tender. They all headed up to their adjacent apartments in the elevator. The group separated and Jin went to his room and showered, scrubbing the sweat and fine dust from his skin.

He didn’t want to leave the shower, his muscles in his hips and shoulder alluding to his hard work on stage. After finally leaving the shower, he dried his hair and felt a warm feeling on his rest. The link between you and Jin was still strong. When Jin or yourself touched the words on your wrists, the other was always able to feel it. It was a warm tingle like a secure hand wrapping around your wrist.

He placed his lips to the mark and walked out to his room. There you sat on his bed fresh from a shower and your hair dry, you were wearing an oversized RJ shirt and underwear with RJ on the back, but you knew he didn’t know this because you were tucked under the blankets. 

“I am so tired, my beautiful blossom” He sighed pulling back the blankets, he saw a small splash of colour on your shirt and moved the blanket back entirely. “Ah, my son” 

“Yeah, I ordered some stuff I thought you might like”

“I love it,” he said staring at the ceiling, “I would kiss you but I am exhausted my sweetpea”

“It’s okay, I understand, you get some beauty sleep, but not too much I can only fight off so many girls”

“come here, my flower and lay in my arms” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, but can roll me to face you and move my arms around you”

“You're so tired” cooing as you turned him onto his side and lifted his arm and wrapped it around your waist pressing your lips to his sharing a sweet and slow kiss.

He whispered against your lips, “I keep falling in love with you over and over again”

You gently massaged his shoulders and chest trying to relieve the muscles he had exerted on stage. All while sharing sweet kisses that tasted like the strawberry champagne they had all been drinking at the MMA’s.

Waking early, all the Soulmates had decided to make the boys some pancakes as their own celebratory gift. They had snuck out of their rooms and Beau was laughing silently holding her side. She tried to explain between fits of silent laughter and wheezing that she had to tie Jungkook to the bed so he would follow and they all giggled getting to work.

Each taking care to make their own personal pancakes, Beau and Iris made extra for Namjoon and Hoseok who were texted to stay in bed when they work. Delivering the trays to Namjoon and Hoseok first, they congratulated them and move on to their rooms to spoil their men. Stepping inside you smiled at Jin who was laying in bed awake.

“Can you take the tray honey,” Watching him eating happily was a blessing, you turned and slipped off the pants so you could be comfortable in shirt and underwear once more. Jin coughed a piece of pancake from his trachea. 

“You have RJ on your panties” he shouted laughing loudly, and you heard laughing from the next room.

“Babe, can you wear, Chimmy underwear?” Jimin’s voice was muffled through the wall and Aster couldn’t stop laughing. “I won’t accept anything less than Chimmy underwear”

“What about if Aster wore no underwear Jimin?” Melody called from across the hall. Jin looked at you. His mouth fell open. You both covered your mouths laughing at the trouble you had started.

“I believe you would prefer my love when you aren’t wearing any underwear, my beautiful melody,” Yoongi’s voice could just be heard followed by a squeal. 

“Yoongi you just got golden syrup on my elbow”

“Let me get that for you”

“Can you guys get a room?” Jhope groaned, “Why are all of you in our apartment, anyway”

“Because Jungkook is in the other apartment and well, we can’t deal with the commotion” 

 It was late in the morning when the two of you emerged from the bed the boys had free time on their schedule until just after Jin’s birthday. Where they were heading to Japan for the magic shop Fanmeet. And for the first time ever you would go on stage and introduce yourselves to the fans and be included in some activities.

You were a little nervous; you had learnt Korean when you realized the first words your soulmate said to you were in Korean. But you didn’t know Japanese. All the girls seemed nervous about this, except Aster who had actually learnt Japanese before Korean and would often mix her languages together.

Iris was still learning Korean and was slowly getting closer with the other soulmates and band members. Beau being smart like Namjoon was picking up the concepts of speech quite easily. Jin couldn’t wait to show the army their soul mates. 

He walked into the room to hear you practising your speech. “Hello Army, My name is y/n. I am so happy to be here in Japan and I have had so many wonderful and unique experiences since arriving,” The smile that formed on Jin’s face was pure. He really loved you.

If you want to join the tags just send an ask:@latina-nerd​

#bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bts #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts fluff #bts soulmate au #bts sm au #soulmate au #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #jin x reader #suga x reader #jhope x reader #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #jin x reader fluff #jin x reader smut #bts jin #jin x reader soulmate

[zweiherzen]

@areiics & @lusory

#( shame on u soldier for telling nep LIES ) #lusory #areiics #crack. — ⋮⋮ ❝ now... let's go practise medicine. ❞

[diazevan]

x. unconscious

Everything medical addressed in this chapter I know from first-hand experience.

Tony loved movie night. It was a Friday evening tradition with his kids. The same thing happened every week, like clockwork. One of them would choose the movie, which would take a good few hours. Peter would tell Morgan that he’d stay awake and watch the whole thing, but he would then proceed to fall asleep in the first ten minutes.

It was the end of the week, Peter needed to hibernate after working his ass off at school for five days straight and then swinging around the city, protecting its citizens. So, Tony couldn't blame him for passing out.

Morgan usually ran around the room, commentating the events of the movie and playing whatever games she laid her hands on, by the end, her energy would be spent, and she’d fall asleep in Peter’s arms.

Pepper would return from work when both kids were passed out, and Tony had gotten them into bed. “I’m gonna brush my teeth!” Morgan announced as she dropped the Lego she was playing with and charged upstairs. Tony stretched his arms over his head as he yawned, “Okay, baby.” Morgan was unbelievably spritely for a Friday night. Normally, she’d be fast asleep, scrawled across Peter’s lap. Tony knew she’d be running on adrenaline, because she won an award in class, for being the most helpful student of the week, she was rightfully proud of herself.  Peter was curled against the corner of the couch, out cold. Tony didn’t want to wake him up, but from the way Peter was positioned, he didn’t seem comfortable. Tony didn’t want him to have an uncomfortable sleep, not when he had a perfectly good bed upstairs.  He also refused to carry him. The kid was all arms and legs which made it impossible to get him up the stairs.    “Hey, kid…” Tony extended his foot, gently kicking Peter’s ankle, “It’s bedtime.” Peter didn’t stir. Tony jumped onto his feet, and clapped his hands together, “I’m not carrying you again…” He pressed his hand against his back for dramatic purposes, “I’ll throw my back out one of these days.”  He reclined his head back and groaned defeatedly. He knew this would end with him scooping Peter into his arms and taking him to bed. He couldn’t help but melt around Peter, especially after five years without him; he was at the kid’s beck and call, twenty-four hours a day. “Uh, okay Pete. You win.” He bent down, placing a hand on the kid’s arm, so he could manoeuvre him, “You’ve got me wrapped around your finger, don’t you?” 

Tony’s fingers brushed against Peter’s hand, and that was when he started to panic. Peter was not a heavy sleeper, he was on high alert all the time, but sometimes, after a hard week, he crashed. That’s what Tony thought this was, but it was apparent that it wasn’t.  Peter’s skin was ice cold to the touch, but contrastively, it was clammy. Abnormally clammy for someone who’d simply been sleeping for the past hour and a half, “Pete?” Tony pressed his hand against Peter’s cheek, the kid’s head lifelessly dropped towards his shoulder, “Peter!” Tony threaded his fingers back through Peter’s sweat-ridden curls, “Hey kid, can you hear me?” Tony turned, so he didn’t shout in Peter’s direction, “Friday, scan him.” He ordered, the AI didn’t respond, “Friday?” Shit, Friday was in the middle of an update. Tony scheduled them to happen at low-risk periods of time, which meant he never let her do one when Peter was on patrol. Today was meant to be a low-risk time when Morgan and Peter were safe in his sights. Screw updates; Tony had to find a way around them. “Fuck me.” Tony wiped his thumb across Peter’s cheek, “You’re gonna be alright, kid.” Peter hadn’t been acting out too out of the ordinary. He’d been slow and a little clumsily, he’d tripped over his feet a fair few times while playing with Morgan, but it was the end of the week, he was always a little spaced. He hadn’t been injured on patrol, Tony got immediate alerts whenever that happened, even a paper cut.  Tony tried to rack his brain and find a warning sign that he hadn’t noticed before; Peter had been late home from school because band practise stretched from early morning to five in the afternoon. They were preparing for a performance.  Reality hit Tony, and he pressed a quick kiss against Peter’s forehead before charging to the medicine cabinet.   Peter had zero self-preservation skills. Michelle and Ned weren’t in the band, so it was likely that Peter got caught up in practice, and had forgotten to eat lunch. Peter had to consume more than Steve and Bucky collectively did, so it was dangerous if he skipped a meal. All his symptoms added up to one daunting conclusion. Hypoglycemia. Low blood sugar. Thankfully, Tony knew exactly how to deal with that but first, he had to make sure he was right. “Daddy…” Morgan hiccuped, a slight quiver in her voice. Fuck, Tony had been so busy ransacking the cupboard for a Blood Test Meter, that he’d completely forgotten that Morgan would head back downstairs after she finished cleaning her teeth, “What’s wrong with Petey?” “I don’t know, darling…” He spoke gently, as he found the Meter, and rushed back to Peter, “But he’s gonna be okay.”  Morgan cautiously moved closer to Peter, “Is he poorly?” “Yeah…” Tony knelt, and unzipped the small bag the meter was in, “He’s poorly.” He held Peter’s hand in his palm, and washed it with an alcohol wipe, ready for a finger-prick blood test. “Wait, Daddy!” Morgan shouted, her assertiveness stopped him in his tracks. She marched over, holding up her arm in a defensive manner, “Petey doesn’t like needles.” Tony’s heart fluttered at her innocence, “I know, honey.” He held the device up, “It’s just a small prick. He won’t feel it.” Morgan glared at the inanimate object like she was ready to fight it, if it dared hurt her brother, “I’m gonna hold his hand.”  “Okay, baby…” He watched as she locked her hand around Peter’s spare one, “You can hold his hand.” “Don’t be scared, Petey.” She whispered softly into his ear, Tony blinked tears away, as he pricked Peter’s finger and waited for the result on the meter.  “Shit…” He leapt into action, charging back over to the medicine cabinet. Peter’s blood sugar levels weren’t just low, they were life-threateningly low if Tony didn’t do something about it now, “Shit...fuck, come on.” “Daddy...?” Morgan sniffled, a clear wobble in her voice. Morgan was too young for this, and he hated that she had to witness it. She blew him away with her resilience and bravery every time. She loved Peter fiercely, and even if she was asked, she’d never leave his side. At times like these, she had the intelligence and bedside manner that could marvel full-grown adults, but she was still a child, and she was terrified.  “Not right now, Morguna…” Tony called back, trying his best not to accidentally snap. He didn’t want to scare her or ridicule her for asking questions. “Petey…” Morgan cooed desperately, “Petey, you’re scaring me! Petey!” She shouted, though her voice wobbled as a sob caught in her throat, “Daddy, he won’t wake up!” “I know...I know…” Tony pushed boxes out onto the kitchen floor, “Come on…” He nervously stomped his foot against the floor, “Morgan, I need you to keep talking to him, can you do that?” “Okay…” She cried, “Petey…” She spoke gently, the same tone she used whenever she read or told a story, “Petey, you can choose the next week’s movie. I know it’s my turn but I want you to do it.” Her voice cracked, “You gotta wake up and tell me what we’re gonna watch. I don’t like scary movies though…” Tony’s eyes landed on what he was looking for. A glucagon injection. He snatched it, and ran back over, “Don’t worry, honey. Peter would never choose a scary movie.” Tony hadn’t watched a horror movie with Peter since before Thanos. The kid had claimed to love the genre, but he clearly didn’t, as Tony ended up having to sleep on his bedroom floor that night. “Is he gonna wake up now?”

“Soon.” Tony placed the glucagon down on the coffee table, “Morguna, you're gonna have to let go of his hand, just for a second. I need to put him on the floor, is that okay?” “And then I can hold his hand again?” “Yes, yes, of course, you can.” Tony saw the conflict in her eyes as she let go of Peter’s hand, “Thank you, honey.”  Tony bent down, folding one arm behind Peter’s back and the other under his legs, he hoisted him up into his arms, and then gently laid him on the floor, in the recovery position.  Morgan wasted no time in charging over and grabbing Peter’s hand, “What’s that?” She asked as Tony prepared the Glucagon. “It’s gonna help him.” Tony pushed Peter’s pyjama shorts out of the way, he stabbed it into his thigh. Morgan whimpered as she tightened her grip on Peter’s hand. Tony knew the result wouldn’t be immediate, so he spent the time gently brushing his fingers through Peter’s curls while muttering soft reassurance to his kids. Morgan didn’t speak. She held her brother’s hand close to her chest, as she hovered, waiting for him to wake up. Tony let out a breath of relief when Peter smacked his lips together, and his face scrunched up as he extended his limbs, “Kid?”  Morgan lay down onto the ground, until she was almost nose-to-nose with Peter, “Petey?”  “Morgan?” Peter slurred as he blinked his eyes open, “Hey…” Morgan locked herself around him and buried her face against his chest, “What’s…” Peter draped an arm over her as he looked up at Tony, “What’s going on?” Tony squeezed his shoulder, “Low blood sugar, kid.” “Oh…” Peter said, still somewhat spaced, “Sorry.”  “Don’t worry…” Tony told him, he moved his hand back and scratched the back of his head, “But I think we’re gonna have to review your...glucose intake.” “Sounds...Riveting.” Peter joked as he turned his attention to his sister, “Hey, M.”  Morgan sat up, folding her legs as she looked at him, with misty-eyes, “Daddy stabbed you with a needle.” Peter narrowed his eyes, “Betrayal.” “Betrayal, huh?” Tony scoffed. “Thank you.” Peter held up his hand, and Tony carefully lifted him up, “I’m not a baby.” He complained.  “Totally not, Spider-Baby.” Tony mocked as he placed Peter back onto the couch, he bopped his nose, "Next time you feel off, tell me. I’d rather deal with it before you pass out on me and…” Morgan jumped onto the couch, leaning her head on Peter’s knees. “I’m sorry,” Peter said as he twiddled his fingers through Morgan’s hair.  “You’re okay now…” Tony sighed, he held up the Blood Test Meter, “But I am gonna have to test you again in a minute to see where you are now.” “Lucky me.” “Don’t worry, Petey.” Morgan sang, “I’ll hold your hand.” “Thanks, munchkin."

#liberty writes #whumptober2019 #tony stark #peter parker #morgan stark #no.10 #irondad #iron dad #irondad fanfiction #iron dad fanfiction #unconscious

[mrsbenedictbridgerton]

The Shark

My first writing of any kind in like - years. 2K words of me playing with the toys I put away so long ago and missed.

Card shark Killian Jones has taken Mills Casino for a sweet half a million. So they send in the best woman for the job of bringing him down. But when sparks fly, can either of them keep a cool head?

Ao3

White teeth bit down upon blood red lips. Jade green eyes were framed by brows drawn into a straight line. The fingers of her free hand, the one not holding a fan of cards, drummed lightly against the emerald green baize of the card table. 

Killian Jones resisted the urge to smile. Such tells were clearly those of a novice, one not used to the high stakes of Mills Casino and certainly not the cordoned-off area in which they now played, one step before the high stakes section which sat behind a glossy back door behind her. He eyed the stack of golden chips that lay beside the tiny purse she had placed down when she sat, her long legs swivelling around the short stool, revealing the short hem of her red dress. Not short of coin, at least. He hid a smirk, this time by peeling off the black leather jacket he wore. 

The lass with the golden hair nodded, taking another card into her hand. He watched her brow wrinkle for a second. Bust. Then her eyes raised, meeting his cool blue ones, a flash of electricity racing through his veins. He took a deep breath. Aye, she was gorgeous, but so was he. Clearly he had been too long without company in his bed if only a glance from an attractive woman sent waves of heat through his body, his groin tightening and then thickening in response. Fuck. He frowned and concentrated on his cards.

This was child’s play, she thought, as she watched the dealer take her cards and her chips. Pretending to be bad at Blackjack, looking like a beginner, losing a few- hundred - dollars (expensed, naturally): piece of cake. If she were to be truly honest, the accent threw her. She knew he was British and had been prepared for the queen’s English. But the honey smooth timbre of his foreign tones had threaded straight through her the first time he’d spoken.

She schooled her features in the innocent mask she had practised that afternoon. But ignoring him, well, that had been a little harder. She’d seen a picture, of course. Mills Casino had tabs on all its high rollers, especially when they took the house for a cool half million only a week ago. Actually, Emma had anticipated having to work a little harder to track him down. Surely, he wouldn’t return to the scene of his crime so soon. But the card counting crook had. Maybe he was arrogant. He certainly looked arrogant. All dressed in black, fingers covered in silver rings, shirt unbuttoned to show an almost unseemly amount of chest hair. But that wasn’t just it. There was something there. It was magnetism. Something that didn’t come across in a security image or a copy of his ID. He radiated confidence and… heat. Even from across the table she’d had to thank her great foundation for the hiding the blush she felt when their eyes met and she saw their deep blue.

And blushing was not her. Not Emma Swan, hard ass, ex con, best damn bail bonds person on the east coast.

She signalled to the waitress and ordered a Manhattan. She didn’t often drink on the job, but this was medicinal. She needed to think straight. To relax.

Her lips caressed the rim of the glass. Images of more enjoyable uses for that mouth taunted him every time he looked in her direction. He should stop looking. He was here to work. Almost a week’s break - in honour of the nice payday he had won last week - had been unheard of time for him until now. Routine was important. Focus was essential. Mistakes - fatal. 

Tonight was for taking it easy. Perhaps it was brazen to show his face again, at least so soon. But he was almost certain his activities had gone undetected. That said he had done nothing illegal… more frowned upon. Frowned upon with fists. By casino security. He flinched briefly as he remembered his first foray into the depths that department. He’d had a swollen lip and black eye for a week. And he’d learned a valuable lesson.

She ran her finger tips along her clavicle. Her long wavy hair had fallen over her shoulder, sweeping along the low neckline of her dress, the shade of her cleavage drawing his eyes. 

Bloody hell. What was it about her? He felt… drunk. Even though his two fingers of rum had remained untouched since he sat down. The cards were turned and he lost. Again. Three hands in a row, his count had been obliterated by blonde hair and long legs. 

Enough.

He picked up his glass and downed the contents in one go. He nodded to the dealer and tossed him a couple of chips before picking up his jacket and heading for the exit.

What the fuck?

She racked her mind for the file she had built up on him.

Killian Jones never, never, left a table before he had at least doubled up. And he never left the casino floor before 3am. She glanced at her watch. It was just after midnight.

She had to get him tonight. Tomorrow, he could be gone. This was the first sign of him in days. She could just call out regular security to stop him, but Regina Mills valued discretion above all else. She did not want even a whiff of a scene. Which was why her services had been needed.

A second later, she was following him, making rapid little steps in her too-high heels as she headed for the VIP exit that meant high rollers didn’t have to walk the whole casino floor to get to their hotel room - or back onto the street.

She nodded at Tiny, the tall, bearded security officer who held open the door for her, as she made her pursuit. But she had only made a few paces along the dimly lit corridor before she felt a hand upon her wrist. A warm, strong hand. It was him, he’d been waiting where corridor intersected with another, stepping out to block her way as she halted in shock.

She thought he had blue eyes? No, they were sapphire. Dazzling sapphire. Hot, glittering sapphire.

This was the moment when she should have protested, men did not grab her without hearing a piece of her mind. Instead, she shook her arm free and stepped back.

Killian enjoyed watching her expression change - from shock to curiosity to idignance. If he said he wasn’t used to the way women reacted to him, well, he’d be a liar. And a liar he was not. Bending the truth however... 

“Can I help?” he asked, rubbing his fingertips across his lips.

She looked momentarily stunned as if she did not know what to say. But she had followed him. He’d watched out the corner of his eye as she had seen him leave. Things were getting interesting. He liked interesting.

“Are you lost, love?” he asked, caressing the endearment with his tongue, taking a step closer and enjoying her flush.

Her shoulders straightened and she smiled. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Interesting. Well then…

He reached out and cupped her cheek. “You blush when you’re winning.”

“I do not-” she protested.

His land moved lower and skimmed across the exposed skin of her chest. “Here,” he added.

He could feel the racing of her heart as his fingers moved. His own pulse answered with a similar beat. By God, she was magnificent.

This was not going according to plan, she thought, as her skin burned from his touch. The cuffs should be on already. He should have been dragged down to the security room by now. Instead she was staring, her mouth a little open, her gaze fixed upon his stubble coated cheek which his knuckles has just passed over. Would those little hairs be hard and rough, or soft? She held out her hand and touched it. Soft, she thought, kissable.

Clearly there was some mutuality in that thought. His gaze dropped to her lips. His free hand found her waist and drew her closer. Then, his mouth was upon hers.

Soft and warm and strong. He tasted like spiced rum. His musky cologne mixed with the smell of the expensive leather jacket he wore. She sank into his kiss, letting her mind block out all the (very good) reasons that this was a very, very bad idea. Convincing herself it was just a kiss as her fingers slotted into his hair and he turned her, pressing her back against the flocked wallpaper of the corridor wall, sliding his thigh between hers. His heavy arousal pressed against her hip and she ground against it. Revelling in the feeling of power it gave - well, the illusion at least.

If the urge to pull up her skirts and take her right there had been even a little stronger, he would not have been able to resist. But Killian Jones was nothing if not a gentleman and even for him, taking a lass up against the wall in a public corridor would be a faux pax. He didn’t even know her name, and such information was a bare minimum requirement for his bed partners, or not bed in this case. He let his hands caress her waist and the delicious curve of her hips, drawing under her buttocks and pulling her tighter against him, torturing himself with the sensation of bodies entwined save for a few layers of infernal clothing. He wanted her. God, he needed her. The ache in his blood since she’d first appeared was reaching fever pitch.

He moved his lips to her neck, nibbling down the soft skin, allowing his lust to cool a moment.

“Do you have a name, love?”

Name. Yes, she had a name.

The question had cracked the spell she was under. Not broken it, she still felt heady with desire and something a little stronger than lust. But her name... It was at stake. This rogue, this scoundrel, with the silken tongue and gorgeous accent was her mark. She laid her head back against the wall, took a deep breath and tried to clear her head and ignore the sensation his lips were making upon her neck.

“Yeah, I do. Swan. Emma Swan,” and with one hand she reached into her purse and pulled out the cuffs she had brought. “Mill’s Security.”

He froze, his lips pulling away from her skin as the words sunk in.

“Ah,” he sighed. He jerked, ready to make a move. But, she was quicker. In a few quick moves, she had his face pressed where she had been, his hands behind him and she was fastening the cuffs. He didn’t struggle, which at first gave her pause, until she swung him around and saw the arrogant smile on his lips.

“Well lass, if that’s what you’re into, you just had to ask.”

She rolled her eyes, “Watch it, buddy.”

“Indeed I shall,” he replied, his eyes travelling down her skimpy red dress.

She pushed him ahead of her along the corridor.

Well, this was a turn for the books. Never had he been bested in such a manner. It felt oddly amusing. Perhaps more so if he wasn’t still feeling somewhat amourous, his body protesting against the abbreviation of the enjoyable activities. He liked this woman, this Swan. The name suited her. Graceful, elegant, strong. No one messed with a swan; powerful buggers they were if you got too close. 

Well then.

He let her steer him along the corridor, taking a left before the exit, stopping at a large unmarked door. She punched a code into the security pad beside it and pushed the door open. Inside, there was a table with a chair on each side and little else to speak of. 

She nudged him to sit.

“So, Swan, not you have me all to yourself, what now?”

She might have rolled her eyes at his question but she couldn't hide the blush. “Puh-lease, you are far too into yourself.”

“Merely an avid observer of womankind.”

She licked her lips. “You sit, I make a call, I get paid and you…” She let the words hang in the air before shrugging. “Well, that’s not my area.”

He chuckled, noting the interesting shiver of disappointment that rippled down his spine. “Tis a pity.”

“Yeah,” she  hummed, letting her eyes linger on him for a moment as she reached for the door handle. She squared her shoulders. “Sit tight, revenue protection have a few things they want to talk to you about.”

One last time, she met his eyes. He fancied he saw regret. 

Then the door closed.

She made the call from the courtesy phone along the hall, cell service being patchy at best in the depths of the casino. Now all she had to do was wait, make the handover and then head home for a hot bath and a large glass of pinot. Or two.

Her skin began to rapidly cool as the fever of those moments together faded into memory. God he could kiss. And his hands… and… She flushed as she revisited the sensations. She’s almost lost herself in the embrace. If it had gone on a moment or two more-

The back of her hand pressed against her mouth. He was a fraud, a conman, a manipulator. Making people feel things was what he did. It meant nothing. Even if it had been so long since she had felt anything beyond the basic mechanics attraction. It had just been to long. That was it. 

She tapped her foot impatiently. They should be here in a moment. She should check on him. 

Hurrying back to the room, she stilled her breathing before entering the code to open it. She would just check. Make sure he was… well, something. The door opened and she peered inside. The handcuffs were on the floor, a corner of the carpet pulled away to reveal a small trap door. More importantly, there was no Killian Jones.

Mother fucker!

Brushing himself off, Killian made his way out of the underground parking lot. The cuff key he always carried was tucked away in his vest pocket. He made a mental note to send Tiny a bonus, those details about the service shafts has come in very useful.

If he felt regret as he joined the busy mele outside the casino, he pushed it away. She was just another woman, this swan. Nothing to concern himself over.

And if he paused at the next sight of blonde hair and red fabric, well, that was another matter.

#once upon a time #ouat #captain swan #cs ff #captain swan ff #a fictional life