#i finally did it i needed that fresh start on a shiny new blog

[archive-assassin681]

this blog is now an archive!  you’ll be able to follow selene over here.   new blog,  same url  ♡♡♡

#00. a caffeinated queen ‚ ooc. #i finally did it i needed that fresh start on a shiny new blog

[husbandohunter]

A Furry Predicament, but reversed (Reader turns into a cat)? Pretty please with a sweet lil cherry on top? (I recently stumbled across your blog and may I just say that I absolutely adore your works??) Thank youu and take care~~

A Furrier Predicatment [Genshin x Cat!Reader]

♤♡◇♧☆

Synopsis: It's your turn to be a cat after this incident.

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Xiao, Albedo, Zhongli, Childe, Venti

(A/n): Ah you did OwO that's very sweet of you. It's alot of fun to write, especially when your imagination is stunted and you just gotta spit out something silly.

=======================

[Diluc]

Any beloved pet owned by Master Diluc would be under the most high quality and meticulous treatement. Mostly for cats since they tend to be calm while elegant...to some extent. If they were dogs then he'll ensure that they also serve as a partner for sniffing out trouble such as a certain bard who'd might've sneaked into the wine cellars. But you weren't either, so to say, you were both a beloved AND a cat.

As he picks you up gently into his arms, Diluc would be a little baffled on what to do next. He has no idea how to care for delicate creatures as he never had one (other than a pet tortoise but that's different) in which he needed to look for help. But who? The staff? Certainly not, no one can find out that his partner turned into a pet (imagine all the scandals he'll be in). Jean? Anything but the knights of Favonius. And most certainly not his brother.

So Diluc ends up figuring everything out by himself (old habits die hard). All the sweets and regular meals you craved were no long in your menu, you were forced to have a proper cat diet because he believed it was healthier. Half of the time he has no idea what he's doing, since you were a cat and all you could do was "meow" (which Diluc forgets. He tries to have a mundane conversation until you stare at him with feline eyes. That was when he remembered).

"What would you like for tonight's dinner, my love?"

"Meow." He has alot to learn.

Though Master Diluc often gets very tired and he attempts to take a quick nap before killing himself over the next set of duties. That is, until you could help it. Being a cat has it's furry and comfy advantages. So you leapt up to the bed as quietly as possible and onto the side of your lover, circling a few times to see if he was really asleep. When he was you snuggled close to keep him warm, hoping it would lull him into a rest even deeper. He slept like a baby.

~xx~

[Kaeya]

If the Cavalry Capatain were to own a pet, they would either be charmed by him or snaring their teeth because of his unreadable and suspicious aura. Animal instincts are quite powerful. But your case wasn't the latter, thankfully and he could feel himself growing fond of this new found relationship. Almost. What should he do with you now that you're a cat, Kaeya wonders.

Belly rubs and a lot of them. He absolutely adores the way your cute little nose scrunches up while he runs his fingers on the center of your tummy (though he knows when to stop, Kaeya is rather gentle with you nowadays). You found that he absolutely adores the shape of your nose, would pick you up and boop yours with his own somehow knows how to be his flirty self despite your unusual form.

There was this one incident where you saw something shiny flashing over the wall. Slowly you followed it as the bright dot moved futher and further away, evetually gaining speed. Little did you know it was Kaeya who was watching you swipe your little paws up and down against the wall while he was just cleaning his sword. How could he help it? You were often so headstrong and independent, now you were just an adorable little kitten that loves to play with yarn and shiny things. It backfired him though, now there were a bunch of scratchmarks marring the surfaces (which he had to pay for repairs).

Takes you out to Windrise so that you could get some fresh air (also for you to find somewhere else to shed your fur other than his humble abode). Kaeya sits back under a tree while you either chase a butterfly or start slapping against the dandelions (only sneeze when they fly into your face). He wasn't sure if you were aware of what you were doing right now, if you were then he'll have lots of things to talk about once you turn back into human. If not, then at least he had the opportunity to witness such a soft side coming from you.

~xx~

[Xiao]

If any animal were to go close towards the adeptus, they would run away. Xiao isn't very good at interacting with others, pets included, usually they would run into the alleyway or hide around the legs of their owners while he glaringly, blankly stares at them (Even though he wouldn't admit it, Xiao thinks to himself, how soft is cat fur?) Now he gets to touch your cat form and turns out that fur is very ticklish yet pleasant against his skin.

Would be the most awkward conversationalist, the poor yaksha was already terrible with his words (often coming out harsh so he prefers to either keep away or say nothing at all) and even with you sometimes, now it was almost impossible to communicate. Xiao is not very good at reading a cat's body language. When you want him to hold you again, you'd walk in circles. He assumes you were hungry and leaps out the window to go fetch some fish...for the nth time there was a pile of raw salmon stacking upon the floor. Xiao thinks that maybe salmon species weren't to your liking, hence he does out to find another one.

As he plays his flute, you'd magically doze off on his lap. (There was one thing that you both can communicate with at last). Slowly but surely, he comes to learn the different gestures you make for certain situations. You often rub yourself upon his leg which he had heard to be a cat's way of claiming their territory. That was when Xiao picks you up, FINALLY. Though the real reason why it took him this long was because he was hesitant to hold you. He never really held a pet so naturally he has no idea how to hold a cat. Ends up cradling you in his arms because it seemed to be a safer option <3

"I never thought I'd be able to hold you like this," Xiao softly says to your lazy form, observing the way your ears perked up at the sound of his voice, "But I...forget it. We can stay like this for the time being, if you'd like. If not, that's fine too."

You stay.

~xx~

[Albedo]

The only pets Albedo had were for his alchemic experiments (plus they were put in cages too). Fact be told, he would make a terrible pet owner with the lifestyle he has now. The alchemist would be so absorbent into his work that he'll most likely forget that he has someone to feed and by the time he realized it, they would have already starved to death. After hearing glass bottles crashing to the floor, Albedo bursts into the rooms as the smoke fills it completely, finding a cat lost between it. The cat was you. He knows because he made the potions.

Sometimes he'd a little too scientific for his own good. Albedo assumed that when you turned into a cat, you've gone into cat mode and ends up treating you as such. "No, don't go near any bodies of water. You wouldn't like it." He almost forgets that you were once human which is very much like him if you had to be honest. Though when he does find out that you still carried human traits, Albedo must find ways to adapt things to your liking.

He makes your food himself. He's not a cook but he sure is good at everything he does, even if it's something he never did before. This goes for other areas too such as the size of your bed, if you need a little couch to stay on or maybe some tools to play around. (The only time when he is a good pet owner). In his sketchbook he'd have a bunch of blueprints and contraptions of what to make next. There's something enjoyable when spoiling you, those little reactions when you're pleased, like the twitch of your whiskers or the lift of your tail. Albedo finds is very cute.

On top of all that, he could also make you a potion to turn you back into normal. It seemed that it was the last thing he thought of on the list. Albedo was too occupied with treating you like a cat that it all flew over his head until now. Time flies when you're having fun.

~xx~

[Zhongli]

Unlike Albedo, anyone who has Zhongli as a pet owner would be considered to be a very lucky animal. He radiates a calm and serene aura that gives the perfect environment to have infinite nap times. People look at this man and wonder why his pet never gives him any trouble, especially when cats were considered to be both fiesty and needy. But they just didn't know that the cat was you (not like it would make a difference, any animal would know that Zhongli was no ordinary man).

How on earth does he know what you're saying? Maybe it's because he was once an archon. You could meow and he knows exactly what you would like to snack on. You could tilt your head, he takes it that you were curious on what he was currently doing (which was exactly what you were wondering), you can say nothing at all yet as if he could read your mind, Zhongli comes over to pet you with his gloved hands.

"How can I tell? Indeed it is because you're my lover, of course. Throughout this time we spent together, I've come to learn the way you speak through your eyes. They seem to hold true no matter what form you take. It's rather comforting."

Though there were many moments where you sneak up behind Zhongli. His hair, his ponytail- so long. Must play with. As you jump up and down with his thin strand swings side to side, it'll take a few seconds for him to decipher what your were doing. The minute he turns around he catches you with his hands midair and laughs heartfully. Cats were very endearing creatures.

~xx~

[Childe]

Back home in Snezhnaya, Childe would probably have owned a dog or two. They were mostly meant for hunting purposes, big and large furry creatures with thick skin suitable to endure the harsh cold. He has dogs because cats hate him for some strange reason. They either hiss or snootly turn their backs on him, one time he picked one up as a kid but his face bleeding after the cat scratched him with their paws. But of course you wouldn't do that to him. You would never~ he was your cutie pie anyways.

He was an obnoxious hugger, not gentle at all. Childe forgets his strength as a human man and when he squeezes you tightly against his chest, you'd spike out on all ends because by the archons, you're suffocating. But it was your fault for feeling so comfy and warm! Similar to Kaeya, they're both obnoxious but Childe deemed himself to be even worse. He'd rub his face against yours, commenting on how sensitive it sways. Tonia once told him that she wanted a pet cat instead, maybe he should also bring you back to his homeland now.

Yes he would love to play with you. Bring in the cat toys...or not. This was the eleventh Fatui Harbinger, what were you thinking? Normal cat activities? Not here. He's gonna teach you how to hunt like how he taught his dogs to hunt in Snezhnaya. You gave him the most deadpanned and dissapointed look with your large feline glare. Not only was he disliked by cats but he certainly was not good with them.

Though he can take it down a notch sometimes and just indulge in relaxing activities. When there was nothing else for him to do or when he was just tired after a productive day, he'd sit by the kitchen and you on top of the table. While you yawned and leaned down for a nap, Childe plays with the small of your paws to the soft edge of your nails. If he taps your nose, your whiskers twitch. Your ears are nice, maybe he should get you a headband version once you turned back to human.

You immediately wake up when he touches your tail.

~xx~

[Venti]

Achoo!

You sometimes wonder how is it that the anemo archon was able to live through 2000 years without getting beaten up by a cat. If andrius was a large cougar than a wolf, maybe he wouldn't be an archon now. Which is why you are to stay miles far far away from him unless you want the whole of Mondstadt to be blown away by the wind.

Wears a mask (as if this were the covid19 pandemic), although it doesn't take away all his problems, at least it'll minimize it. Venti always has a box of tissues ready but you can tell by the puffiness of his eyes that he's been sneezing alot. He really tries his hardest to pitch in every once in a while when Albedo was working on a cure for you to go back to normal. Though acts as if he was quarantined by staying all the way at the other side of the room.

"Ahahaha don't mind me. It's your local bard of Mondstadt dropping by to see how things are going. I wanna make sure how long it will take for you to make the potion? Just curious!"

No hugs, cuddles or anything involving close proximity. This makes Venti very pouty and impatient. Albedo finds it very hard to concentrate with all the sniffling and sneezing that he had no choice but to kick him out. It didn't help that the location was Dragonspine, now he was sneezing even more.

#genshin impact #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #albedo x reader #childe x reader #venti x reader #diluc ragnvindr #kaeya alberich #diluc #kaeya #zhongli #xiao #albedo #venti #genshin xiao #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact headcanons #nya-writes

[utterlyinevitable]

Queeeeen, are you taking requests?

If you are, can you please write a fic from Alan's pov where Ethan talks about MC?

(Not in book 3 pls, I want to forget that monstrosity 🤢)

Just Ethan not realising that he's talking about her non-stop and Alan teasing the crap out of him hehe.

(If you have a slightly different idea, go for it!!! Anything and everything you write always has me- 🤩🤩)

Have a great day, queen ❤❤❤❤

After

Pairing: Ethan x F!MC (Becca) Rating: PG-13 Warnings: implied trauma Summary: Alan makes his way to comfort Ethan after hearing about the assassination attempt.  Tropes: Hurt/Comfort; 2.11

A/N: Thank you so much for this request! I outlined this piece as part of my 2.11 / Leakage sequel mini series that I never finished. It’s a bit different that what you’re after, but thank you for the motivation 💕💞💕

_______________

Just Two People: I. After. 

10 hours. It’s been ten hours since the worst 24 hours of his life. Ten hours since they declared the antidote successful. Ten hours since she was moved to a private room on the Diagnostics wing, ten feet away from the office. 

It’s been three hours since he returned to the hospital. Naveen and the rest of the team forced him home, to sleep and eat and change into a fresh pair of clothing that weren’t drenched in stricken sweat. 90 minutes - that’s how long he was gone for. That’s as long as his body and mind and soul would let him be away from her. 

Even now, ten feet away and separated by two walls and a corridor seems much too much. 

He knew he shouldn’t spend every waking moment at her side, no matter how much his body was willing him to do just that. There was no reason to, not anymore now that she’s cured. He can’t hide under the guise of monitoring her vitals anymore, the nurses have that covered. And anyway, he doesn’t want to fuel the whirling gossip mill any further. 

So Ethan Ramsey sits at his desk, alone in the dimming daylight. An untouched glass of water in front of him and his heavy gaze stuck on the back of the caseless iPhone in his hands. 

Would it be too much to text her? 

It’s been 122 minutes since he last saw her - departed with an “If you need anything, text me” mumbled into her hairline on top of a chaste kiss. 

It’s been two hours and two minutes of radio silence. 

He’s worried, irrationally so. Shifting in his chair Ethan’s legs begin to jitter, start to lift his body up. But before he could convince herself he’s just going to walk past her room on his way to the restroom, there’s a knock on his ajar door. 

“Dad? What’re you doing here?” 

“I saw the news,” Alan says with the most sullen expression. 

Alan Ramsey looks like he always does, dressed in jeans though his cardigan has been replaced with a ratty old hoodie Ethan’s only ever seen him wear in the house. The young father steps into the darkening office with wrinkles showing years of worry; the slope of his expression feels as if his own flesh and blood were the one on the brink of death mere hours ago. 

“I needed to make sure you were alright.” 

“You could have called.”  

“I did,” a small smile tugs at Alan’s lips. Even in times of hardship his son is still everso the same. “Six times. Left some text messages too.” 

The boy hangs his head, deep oceanic eyes darting back to the abandoned phone. “Sorry,” he mutters. 

“Don’t be. You’ve had an eventful few days.” Alan moves gingerly and determinedly to perch on the edge of the closest chair in front of his son. “How is she?” 

Ethan just shrugs. “Physically, looks like a full recovery. Mentally, too soon to tell. Dr. Hirata has a counselor scheduled to meet with her tomorrow.” 

“How are you?” 

“I’m…”

From this close Alan could see every flicker of pain Ethan has been harboring. His clear, curious blue eyes were the darkest he’s ever seen them, bordering on limitless midnight if it wasn’t for the faint red surrounding them. There are wrinkles in his pressed shirt and deep circles under his eyes. And the way he sits slumped in his chair and not with the perfect posture he’s been lecturing his father about for the better part of their lives, Alan knew he was right to come. Knew that now was one of those rare times where his son would accept the doting of his single parent. 

While Ethan was still searching for the words, Alan rounded the desk to place a hand on his slumped shoulder. 

“Ethan, son, you don’t need to hide.” 

Easier said than done, Ethan would think on any other day. But not today. 

“It was the worst days of my life,” he says it so effortlessly on the breath of a dying man. “I - I thought I lost her, Dad.” 

Two sets of the same blue eyes meet, both aged and one much too soon. 

“But you didn’t.��� 

“I know.” 

Even now, with the understanding between them too great and effortlessly easy to grab onto, Ethan wouldn't admit to the one truth. Wouldn’t concede to the last argument they had just mere weeks ago. Ethan Ramsey wouldn’t admit it, but he finally knew how and why his dad was holding onto love all this time. If Ethan had lost Rebecca he knew he’d never be open to the notion again. He belonged to her. 

Ethan didn’t have to say it for Alan to read the words shouting from his features. 

Alan gives Ethan’s shoulder an assuring squeeze. “Have you told her?” he asks with a compassionate smile. 

The deep breath Ethan takes and the way his eyes close, then dart to the door on their reopening, has Alan’s heart dropping. 

But then, his son surprises him for the umpteenth time. 

“Yes.” 

The word is small and hoarse, and heavy with something neither man has heard from in a long time. 

Alan steps away and lets the feeling linger for a bit. He knows he shouldn’t push or move too fast, knows that if he does he could scare this vulnerable side of his son back into hiding. So they let the hopefulness surround them. They let the light of a new beginning flicker on as Boston settles into evening outside. 

When neither of them move to speak, or even move from the stances, Alan decides to take care; “I was planning on making you dinner - What would you prefer?”  

Ethan shakes his head, moving to stand. “You don’t have to. You need to get back.”  

The two men are as face-to-face as they can get with the younger being nearly a foot taller. Alan can see his son fully now. Can see how his shirt is barely tucked into trousers that don’t match and he’s wearing casual loafers instead of shiny Oxfords.

“Ethan, you look like you’ve been hit by a bus,” Alan tries to laugh the truth off. “And anyway, I took compassionate leave for a few days. Family emergency.”

The words hit Ethan like a bus. If Alan looked closely he could see the tears fighting to emerge in his son’s eyes.   

“Dad…” 

Ethan’s Adam’s apple is bobbing with all that’s unsaid. The weight of it all pressing onto him in ways he’d never care to imagine. To think, his father frantically drove to Boston at the drop of a hat for a woman he’s met only once - barely even knows.  

Alan tries to read around the emotions as best he can. Tells his stoic, unburdensome son the truth, whether he realizes it or not. 

“Call it what you want. But if I know anything about my son, it’s that you are completely enamored with that woman and blaming yourself for the situation.”  

Alan didn’t know how right he was. 

________________________

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics 

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#open heart #choices open heart #open heart fanfic #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc

[kyotarou]

text me now - part 8

previous | masterlist 

title: end of the line; the start of something new

warnings: fluff, angst, cheesiness, mild swearing, making out

word count: 1.1k+

special notes at the end (be warned it’s pretty long)

It felt like the whole world was on your shoulders, pushing you deeper underwater. You couldn't breathe despite the crisp air, your lungs aching with every breath. What would be comforting silence was unbearable, especially when Tendou's eyes refused to meet yours, a hint of a scowl hiding beneath his forced neutral expression. It was a bad idea to invite him out, but he did agree to this. You sat on the soft grass of a park near school, watching the shiny blue ripples of the pond rock back and forth. Spring was supposed to be a time of clarity, but your mind was more muddled than ever. The sweet scent of fresh blossoms made your head spin and your stomach churn. More than anything, your heart felt heavier with each passing second. You were unaware Tendou shared the same weight as well.

With you beside him, he was at a loss for words. He was stuck in a cave of his unspoken thoughts, unable to see the light. He wasn't sure where to start or if he had the courage to speak. He pondered on Semi's words, cursing him for clouding him in that air of mystery. He glanced at you, chest growing tighter upon seeing your pained face. Could he fix things? 

Tendou took a deep breath.

He turned to you and all his thoughts slipped away. The words weighing on his tongue disappeared, leaving him with a blank slate and a frozen mind. You looked perfect like this, the slight flutter of your lashes as the wind kissed your cheeks, your fingers entwined in your lap—how he wished it was his lips on your skin and his hands tangled in yours. His cheeks grew hot in adoration and shame. He couldn’t believe he nearly let you go.

"(Y/N)..." Tendou immediately bit his tongue. He hadn’t mean to say that.

You turned toward him with a pained smile. "Yes, Satori?"

He could've melted right then and there. His name sounded so sweet on your tongue, so soft and fragile. You treated it with delicacy, a treasure to cherish. He wondered if you'd ever say it like that again.

He looked away. "I... I'm sorry."

"For avoiding me."

It wasn't a question, but rather a statement you both knew the answer to. Tendou was sorry for that, and he was sorry for himself for being blinded by his jealousy and rage. He hurt you and you still stuck with him. He was still hurting you now, refusing to give you any hint of the storm brewing within, all his feelings encapsulated in his fragile body, forcing their way out.

"How do you put up with me?" Tendou crushed a handful of grass. “I’m a piece of shit.”

Your eyes widened, brows furrowed in shock. "You’re kidding, right?"

Tendou let out a harsh scoff and shook his head. Of course he wasn’t. He’d rather you push him away, scream at him to leave, than have you toy with his heart. He wasn’t cut out for love, but he was than willing to try for you—no, with you. The question was, did you want that?

Of course you did, but he was oblivious.

Tendou gulped. "I've been terrible to you, (Y/N)."

"You're far from that."

"(Y/N)-"

"Satori." He jumped when your hand landed on top of his, gentle but firm. Despite your warm smile, he saw how frustrated you were. "Stop saying all those things about yourself. You’re a hell of a lot better than I am.”

His lips parted in shock, throat becoming tight while your grip loosened. You looked up to him—it made his chest swell with pride, but he also felt worse. You left him open to your next attack. You stretched him thin, made him soft, cradled his heart in your hands. You had the power to change him, to either create or destroy something great. Tendou had no means to defend himself. What could he do now besides listen? 

You made him vulnerable. You made him happy. You made him feel loved.

The storm inside him was beginning to creep through, the first sign being his thumb wiping the stray eyelash on your cheek. You saw everything—the regret and agony swirling behind his eyes, the slight quiver of his lip. For the first time, Tendou would no longer try to block anything or anyone; he'd bare all his feelings for you.

You let out a shaky breath. Your body had gravitated towards his, shoulders pressed against each other. He sensed the hesitation and fear behind your next words. "You're my first love, Satori. I want you to be my only love."

Tendou lost himself in your gaze, drowning in the endless adoration. Your noses were almost touching now, and he could feel your breath on his cheek. His line of sight flitted to your parted lips. He found himself leaning towards you until his skin was on yours. You kissed him, a wordless conversation shared between two pairs of entwined lips. Tendou didn't need them; his body did all the talking. Your hands snaked into his hair, his gently gripping your wrists. Your kisses were intoxicating, slow and passionate, and leaving him to ache for more. It was ten times sweeter than the accidental kiss now that he knew where your heart lay. 

The storm had finally escaped, but rather than a violent downpour, it was a ray of warm clarity and sunny skies. Your bodies felt lighter ten times than before, the tension on your shoulders lifted. You fit so well in his arms as did he, like the final piece in a complex puzzle. His movements continued to grow bolder until you lightly pushed him away with a grin, forehead resting against his.

A heavy fog clouded his mind, but one thing was clear; he could do this for the rest of his life. He was speechless but satisfied, a grin tugging at his tingling lips. Tendou already craved the feeling of yours on his, and he longed for when he could do it again, though he knew it would be soon. The four words that followed after solidified the warmth that spread within, a sense of content and harmony in his previously nerve-wracking day. 

“I love you, Satori.”

His arms wrapped around your waist to pull you against his chest. He didn’t mind if you could feel his thumping heart. If anything, he wanted you to—only you could make him feel this way. Tendou was glad his guesses had been wrong for once. Your heart belonged to him, and his to you. 

He kept his nose pressed against your cheek, smiling. The tips of your ears grew hot when he placed a featherlight kiss on your jaw, all ounces of shame and uncertainty washed away.

"I love you, too, (Y/N)."

“So-” You murmured against his temple, fingers slotted between his. “Turn this into a real date?”

He grinned. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

a/n: okay...where do i begin? i started this smau back in january after i reblogged a fic title game and an anon sent in “text me now with a member of shiratorizwa.” i chose tendou and thought it was a cute idea. i even said that it’d be a great smau but had no intention of doing anything with the idea, until @theuntamedmulti reblogged and said she wanted this potential smau to exist—and out came this series.

tbh i was really excited but also hesitant. the last series i tried to make when i first started my blog ended up being deleted and discontinued. i’m really bad at completing series in general, so to have this one be a success is a huge accomplishment for me.

i remember finishing all of the smau parts within a span of 2-3 days (which is why some of the timestamps are set in january lol).

as cliche as this sounds, this series has a very special place in my heart. i am very thankful that so many of you enjoy this smau, even if it’s quite short compared to several others. thank you so much for your support. thank you to the anon who sent in that ask, this couldn’t have started without you. thank you to vivian, aka @theuntamedmulti​ for giving me that little push to start this.

i love you all <3

taglist (closed): @zozodreamy @theuntamedmulti @tsukkim0on @elianetsantana @dekustowel @aideen00 @justfandomlover @rogueofbullshit @giogama08 @squiddlie @captaincyberqueen @kutozume @nachotrash @ems1des @ish-scribbles @salty-satan @darkmbti @rintarosslut @zbops @dumbb1tc4 @candyyrushh @ro-ro-noa @aghasetzen @fi-chanwrites @tobiosaphrodite @panflowerlii @shinah-satoru @lucacangettathisass @maneazuasahi @bokutosbabyowll @fantasycantasy

series completed.

#text me now! #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #tendou satori #tendou satori x reader #tendou satori smau #tendou satori x you #tendou satori x y/n #haikyuu smau #haikyuu x you #satori tendou #satori tendou x reader #satori tendou smau #tendou satori fanfic #tendou x reader

[imnotwolverine]

The marriage pact - Family dinner

Henry Cavill x OC Alice - multi-chapter

< Part 5 | Part 6 Family dinner | Part 7 >

Disclaimer: some strong language

Author’s note: I took a few days off from work because this wretched heat is killing me (go go heatwave). Now, let’s hope my writing muse is strong. 🤓

Word count: 1.450

(Link to my Masterlist)

--

[ Alice.in.writing.land ]

Dear readers,

You must be wondering why my previous blog was so terribly short, so please let me indulge you. A chocolate cake appeared on my door step and he has left me so very satisfied indeed. Mind you, it was a chocolate cake I knew well, so please keep your quiet gasps and judging glares to a bare minimum as we all wait out and see if there is more cake to be baked or not.

And now.. enough with the cake references! My mini-me happened to be a most successful sheep herder and we had a most delightful day with our wooly friends. I even received some balls of wool, so who knows, maybe I will teach myself how to knit. You know, just in case I do really become an old spinster. And IF that will be the case I’m sure I will be the coolest home-knit wool stocking wearing auntie any kid could wish for.

Then in other herding news; today I will be divesting my time in herding a flock of pots and pans in my parents kitchen, because I have agreed to cooking them and our neighbours a dinner. So once more; please keep your horns and fingers crossed and let’s pray  to Bacchus that the rich flowing wine will hide any cooking imperfections.

Your gracious cook for tonight,

Ali

‘MOMMYYYYYY!!’ Alice quickly spurted off to the front door as she heard the door unlock, leaving me alone on the carpet with a set of building blocks - we were just about to build a fairy hotel for her dolls. I slowly pushed myself up to a standing position, waiting for the squealing to subside before making my appearance in the hallway.

‘Oh Ali! I heard what a wonderful time you had.’ Maddie smiled from ear to ear, her jacket still on as she kept Alice close in her arms, the toddler fiercely grabbing onto her mom’s neck.

‘Hi Mads..’ I looked behind Maddie, seeing an exhausted Frank as he shoved the suitcases back inside. ‘..hi Frank.’ He half-smiled, nodding at me. ‘So how’d it go?’ Maddie asked, brushing a hand over Alice’s back.

‘As good as any other time. Truly Mads. We had a great time. Didn’t we, mini-me?’ I ruffled a bit through Alice’s blond curls, making her chuckle sweetly. ‘Mhm.’ She nodded quietly, her face still hiding in her mom’s neck. ‘And of course she missed you TERRIBLY!’ I winked at Maddie, seeing her face gleam with happiness to be back with her baby pea.

I felt a pang of jealousy crush through my warm heart, like a tiny needle pin, burrowing itself deep in my flesh, every breath causing a strong sharp pain to run through my chest. I chewed on the inside of my lip and willed myself to stop those silly thoughts. I was not a mom. Perhaps would never be a mom. I had to just..

Smile.

Smiling kindly I drank some tea with Maddie and Frank, before leaving their house and returning to my parents to start cooking that dinner and write a bit for my newspaper articles. The twinge of jealous pain however, didn’t leave until well after the pots were bubbling and boiling.

Ugh, I wanted to be a mom so bad.

—

‘Henry! What a pleasure to see you!’ My mom’s voice sounded from the hallway after the doorbell rang, my hands quickly reaching for a wiping cloth to clean up my hands.

‘Hello Lorrie.’ His warm voice spoke, ‘Is Alice in?’

‘Yes, yes. She’s in ..eh..haha…the kitchen.’ I could just hear the shyness drip through my mom’s voice. Sure, Henry was a very handsome man, but my mom really couldn’t cope with being around him. She’d become this blushing school girl whenever he got anywhere near her, and it made for truly entertaining scenes - and yes, I hadn’t mentioned to her just yet that I had invited Henry for dinner.

It sure would be a blast.

‘Hey you.’ Henry stepped into the kitchen, the fumes of boiling legumes and roasting herbs and meats permeating the air. ‘Hi.’ I smiled, slightly surprised when I felt him brush his lips over my cheek.

So very..domestic.

I felt a blush creep up my hot cheeks as I turned down the stove knobs, my eyes not daring to look at him as he roved over my handiwork. ‘How are you?’ He asked, leaning into the kitchen counter as he watched me work. ‘Ah..you know..’ I shrugged, turning to move some fresh cut onions into a frying pan.

‘..I don’t know Ali. Tell me.’  His voice was sweet and gentle, so very unlike Chris my ex, who always just shrugged and walked out. He never truly bothered to dig a little deeper, but Henry did, apparently. I felt that terribly stupid pang in my heart again and before I knew it a tear escaped my eyes, the salt rolling fat and shiny over the creases of my terse face.

‘Hey hey..’ Henry stepped in, one hand turning down the stove of the frying onions, the other cupping my cheek. And then there were these knowing blue eyes looking straight into my soul.

‘I just got a little stressed is all.’ I lied, shrugging. Henry sighed. ‘Then let me help you. It’s not like I have anything else to do today.’

I frowned, blurry eyes looking back at him. ‘Now we’re both lying.’ I muttered.

‘What?’ He asked, frowning.

‘How does a busy man like yourself first have to rush from one event to the other, and then all of a sudden he is here for at least another week, without any obligations or engagements.’ I wiped my tears and looked at him, fearing my words had been to harsh or reproachful, but not willing to take them back either as I saw him bite his lip. He was thinking of an answer, his eyes first looking at the food in the pans next to us, then finally at me.

‘I eh..called in a time-out.’

‘A time..out?’

‘Yea. Like. I worked a certain arrangement into my contract, so I can take a time-out when it just really gets too much. When I feel I need some time for myself. Before I get sick or anything.’

‘Do you feel..sick?’ I asked, my terse face melting into gentle worry, my tears drying quickly on my large brown eyes.

‘Hehe. No, don’t worry dear. I’m not sick. Not yet, though the fact that I didn’t even recognise some people dear to me anymore, and didn’t know what day it was or where I was exactly..are tell-tales that I need to slow it down. And so I did.’

My brows furrowed at his words, realising how stressful his life probably was. ‘Oh I’m so sorry Hen.’ I pulled him in for a big momma bear hug, his chest rumbling with mirth as he gratefully leaned into me, nose dipping into the crook of my neck. He hummed in quiet delight.

‘So what were you lying about?’ He asked after a few more moments, his face still buried in my hair.

‘Oh eh..gosh..I don’t even know if I want to tell you.’ I gulped.

‘Tell me.’ He said, leaning back slightly so he could look me in the eye, his hands still wrapped around me. I sighed quietly, hearing the slow bubbles of the pots besides us, my mom’s feet shuffling in the hallway.  

‘Mom! Don’t eavesdrop! I know you’re there!’ I admonished, hearing her feet quickly shuffle away. Henry chuckled. ‘That’s what moms do.’ He shrugged, amused. ‘Well, they should mind their own business. And..so should I. I mean. I got a little jealous is all. Maddie and Frank got back today and seeing them and little Alice being such a sweet happy family, it kind of ..hurts.’ I frowned, trying to turn away from our hug but finding Henry’s arms holding me down even tighter.

Our eyes met again.

‘I’m sure there will be plenty of chocolate cake.’ He smiled, making me blush furiously.

‘OH MY..’

‘Yea..I might have found your…blog.’

‘Oh my…’ I felt my cheeks burst with a redness that fiercely matched the tomato sauce in one of the pans, my eyes widening in pure horror.

‘Haha. That’s quite alright. I found it very amusing..and..insightful too. Your nan must have been a truly wise woman.’

‘Oh this is so embarrassing.’

‘No more embarrassing then your mom during tonight’s dinner party, I’m sure.’

I snorted and we both burst out giggling.

‘Oh gods Hen.’ I poked his shoulder. ‘You are the..-‘

‘Sexiest?’ He grinned.

‘Incorrigible Cavill. In-corrigible.’

We laughed aloud, the kitchen echoing with shared joy as we rolled up our sleeves and cooked the most wonderful family dinner we could possibly produce.

--

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#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x author #henry cavill x OC #romcom #the marriage pact #henry bear #blog #family dinner #cooking

[monocotyledons]

on writing “a body at rest”

This is a companion blog post for my KazeTsuyo fic, A Body at Rest, written for the Ekiden Runners 18+ Discord server New Year’s exchange! I tried a different approach for this fic, so here’s a little bit about my writing process.

For context, I normally follow this writing process for my fics:

Come up with an idea

Let idea develop in my head for a little bit, so I can test if it will work as a full fic or not

Write detailed outline of fic

Turn outline into a first draft. This takes several days, and I often go back and edit already-written sections as I get ideas on how to fix them.

Let draft sit untouched for a few days

Edit into second draft with fresh eyes

Edit and proofread into final version. While doing this, plan out summary, notes at the beginning and end of the fic, and tags; make fic graphic.

Post and promote!

I don’t follow this process to a T all the time, but a lot of my fics do, and even fics that don’t follow the exact process will still have most of the steps in order.

Anyway! For this particular fic, I followed steps 1-3 as is, taking care to make sure the idea followed my giftee’s prompts. But when I got to step 4, I was stuck. I had just written Concrete and Earth, which was also a domestic established-relationship NicoYuki fic, because it turns out that my giftee and I are suckers for the same tropes?? So I struggled to write a fic that was different but had the same tropes, since they were what my giftee asked for. 

Then I remembered encountering this article on Twitter, about the different engines that power a story. Not just plot and character, but theme, setting, language, point of view, and so on -- any element of a story can be an engine. So I started thinking about the kind of story engines I put in my fics.

Most of my fics are powered by plot engines, judging from the description of how “plotters” work: outline first, then expand on character interactions from then. The character engine usually gets boosted in the editing stage. But I’ve also worked with situation engines (Breach, On Midnight’s Door), and even a point-of-view engine (a breath of fresh air, a reader-insert fic written in second-person POV).

I had written C&E with the standard plot and character engines (and maybe a little bit of theme engine - shiny new world of Yuki vs. comfy old world of Nico), and I was trying to do the same with this fic. But the engines weren’t working this time around, so soon after using them. I needed something else to power my story -- but what should I use?

It didn’t click until I reread the first sentence of what I had written so far: “Yukihiko nurses a headache as he exits the subway.”

Headache.

Head ache.

That was it.

The next day, I opened my draft and wrote this on top of the document:

The idea was that I needed this fic to be sensory. This was a fic about Yuki being taken care of by Nico, and I needed to make the care felt. I needed to ground that care in palpable, concrete sensations, and anchoring that care in the body felt like a sensible way to go about it. I mean, I had planned a massage scene in the fic, so bodily sensations are important to it.

At the same time, I gave myself the leeway of a first draft. I didn’t intend to keep every single body part mention in the fic, and I did cut out a few that sounded awkward later on. The whole point of the linguistic engine was just to make sure that the fic was written, not for the body part mentions to be the star of the show. I could always fix the fic to sound more coherent later.

The linguistic engine worked. I pushed out around 1.8k of words in a single sitting. And I had fun writing! I didn’t let myself worry too much about how the fic started! As long as I met my linguistic engine goals, it was all good!

After that, I followed my usual process of letting the fic sit for a few days. (I wrote the fic pretty early in December, because I didn’t want to worry about it too much during the holiday rush.) During this resting phase, I worried that the fic might be too focused on the sensory descriptions, when it was still a NicoYuki gift fic. And since it’s a Yuki POV fic, I started thinking: Okay, so this is timeskip established relationship Yuki, what’s he like at this point? So when I returned to it for editing, I wrote this at the top of the document:

I edited with these sentiments in mind. The draft ended up longer after editing, mostly because of additional character POV thoughts and character moments that I added. I also cut out or reworded some of the body part mentions that sounded forced, but to my surprise, a lot of them still made it to the final version.

And that’s it! After working on these two story engines, I didn’t make any more major changes to the fic. 

#mono logues #writing

[yayninjabob]

Update 1/20/21

It's been swell having my freedom again now that I'm covid-free.  I'm not going anywhere or anything.  But things like gardening in our backyard, taking my dog-kids Fable and Riot on walks, cuddling with my wifey on the sofa and watching netflix or whatever, and just being able to cook again for myself in the kitchen... I've missed all of it so much.  So much in fact that I've been slacking on editing more than I should, whoops.  SORRY, GUYS.

But I did finish up all my rewrites yesterday FINALLY so the new chapter is nearly done.  All that's left is another swoop of editing and maayyyybee swapping out this one scene I have for another that I originally had planned for 13 instead.  So give me a day or two to decide what feels best for the story while I start tinkering with 13 a bit.

So basically I'm stepping away from 12 today to work on the scene for 13.   Depending on what I decide to do with that scene, I might finish chapter 12 tomorrow night after work, or I might need another day after that.  But I don't think so.  I'm already like 90 percent sure on what I'll probably end up doing lol.   Just gotta write this up first to be sure and it will EASE my perfectionist mind.  Once that's done, then it's final editing and formatting stuff which takes me usually a day or two.

Alright that's just a really wordy way to say I will have CHAPTER 12 up this SUNDAY, JANUARY 24TH.  PROMISE GUYS.  

I feel so bad it's been so long since our last update that I'll share one scene with you guys from 12.  I mean, if you’re checking this blog you're probably looking for an update, right?  Well for now, I hope a little sneak peek will suffice until Sunday.

Personally, I think it's kind of a cool sneaky peeky because honestly it doesn't really give away much of the plot of the chapter and still leaves the suspense of where we last left off pretty much.  SO.  If you wanna read a little bit of 12, here's scene #3 for you guys early.  If you want to avoid it and remain pure, I’ll see you Sunday I guess lol.

Uh... heads up, it's got some gore lol.  A creepy little horror comedy scene, really.  One of my personal faves of the chapter, too.  PLEASE ENJOY.

SNEAK PEEK:  Chapter 12, Scene 3 under the cut....

scene 3

The green Powerpuff lay in the dark unable to sleep.  Even though the teenager had turned out the light hours ago, there was no stopping the never ending loop of the night which still replayed over and over within the young hero's mind.  Buttercup had done nothing but tossing and turning in an attempt to try and find rest that night, and had managed to kick away all of the bedding and sheets.  Laying upon a bare mattress and still hopelessly waiting for sleep with eyes shut tight, there was a sudden faint knocking sound heard coming from within the bedroom.

Buttercup sat up in bed with a jolt the moment the sounds began in the dark.   Immediately the Puff's emerald eyes fell on the door to the bedroom closet.  The door to the closet was shut, but the noise was definitely coming from behind it.  Buttercup watched the door intently, while silently and cautiously moving towards it.  With super hearing activated, the Puff listened to the sound of something rustling about inside, and as the young hero crept closer and closer, there was a rotten, burning stench in the air.  Buttercup reached for the closet door's handle and opened it.

"Where is it?  Dude, it's gotta be somewhere around here!"

Buttercup blinked at the blood soaked kid for a moment before a look of annoyance came next.  The sixteen-year-old Puff watched as the thirteen-year-old apparition  dug around the heap of dirty laundry that littered the closet floor.  The kid had her back turned as she knelt upon both knees over the large pile of laundry and searched frantically for something.   Buttercup groaned, still holding the closet door open, "Oh no....  What are you doing here?  Dude, really, I'm just trying to get some sleep tonight and you showing up now just isn't-"

"Where is it?!" the kid jumped onto their sandy wet sneakers and began to search the shelfing within the closet, "Where the fuck is it?!"  As the thirteen-year-old removed an old snowglobe from the shelf and tossed it carelessly over her shoulder, Buttercup caught it and glared at her.

"Where's what?!" Buttercup snapped at herself.

The kid stopped suddenly and slowly glanced over her shoulder with her ghostly, opaque white right eye.  "Where's the mask?"

"Oh," Buttercup's angry expression softened.  "...It's... gone...."

"...Oh...."

"...Yeah...."

As Buttercup reached over her to return the snowglobe to its spot on the shelf, the kid turned round to face them.  "Can't you get it back somehow?"

The green Puff sighed deeply and floated slowly back over to the bed, "Nah, Dude..." Buttercup reclined upon the bare mattress again, "I think... I think that shit's over now....  I mean, shit's getting pretty serious now that Mojo knows about us.  I'm hoping it all works out tomorrow, and he's really not gonna make me do something fucked up in return for his silence, but... even if he does keep his word..." Buttercup shut both eyes and yawned, "It's just gettin' way too risky, Dude...."

"Huh..." the kid stood at the teenager's bedside, "I thought we were just startin' to have some real fun...."

Buttercup's eyes remained shut, hoping the illusion would go away soon.  "It was fun while it lasted...."

"Sucks, Man....  Say, you got anything I can eat?  I'm fucking starving, Dude-"

"Dude," Buttercup interrupted with annoyance, "Why are you here?"  The green Puff sat up in bed once more and looked towards the kid and saw that she had made her way across the bedroom.  The blood soaked child stood in front of Buttercup's dresser, staring at the pair of birds that sat within their cage.  Her back was towards Buttercup, but Buttercup could see that the kid suddenly gripped something shiny in her right glowing green, acid burnt hand.

"Same reason I always drop by," the kid answered with her back still turned.  The apparition turned her head slightly, and even in the dark Buttercup could make out the devious glint of a small, sly smile as she still gripped whatever was in her hand.  "I'm here to help you out, you know... since you got nobody else, right?"

Buttercup continued to stare at the kid, but chose to remain silent.  The green Puff watched as the illusion returned her attention to the birdcage, and with her left, seared bloody hand, she reached for the cage's small door and opened it.  Both Snot and Pus instantly tried to dart away from the sizzling glowing green acid drenched palm that reached for them, but the kid easily managed to yank the fluttering green bird from the cage.  Buttercup's eyes widened in shock as she watched the kid cut into the squirming, live bird with a shard of glass, slicing the helpless creature straight down the middle.  His yellow companion fluttered about within the closed cage behind them, squawking loudly as the kid raised the green bird to her lips and began to slurp loudly.

All the green Puff could do was look on in stunned silence as the kid continued to suck the blood from the slowly dying bird.   As many times as the green Puff had received a "visit" from their former, "dead" self, this sort of thing... was definitely new.  As Buttercup continued to watch, the green Puff tried to keep in mind that what was being witnessed... could definitely not be happening.

The kid used her tattered black jacket's sleeve to wipe away the fresh blood-stache from her face, before turning to Buttercup.  "Did ya want the other one?"

The green Puff shook their head.

"Suit yourself," the kid shrugged and tossed the dead green bird over her shoulder, before she repeated the same act with the yellow bird next.  

Buttercup still could not look away.  "Dude... what the actual fuck...?" Eventually, the Puff's green eyes drifted slowly back to wear the discarded dead green bird's drained body lay on the floor of the room.   There was a gust of wind and Buttercup watched as the wooden floorboards of the bedroom and the dead bird began to blow away like strange particles of sand.  The green Puff rose from the bed mattress as it next faded away into the dark atmosphere around them.  "Ah, shit, no wonder..." Buttercup laughed a little nervously, "I'm dreaming...."

"We're dreaming," the kid added as she stood beside herself with a grin.

The green Puff glared briefly for a moment at the unwelcomed tag-along before looking around once more.  The once empty black void that was the adolescent's default dreamscape had changed as of late.  It was still a mostly desolate land, but no longer shrouded in total darkness.  Now, the sky shook with thick, dark and thunderous clouds which boomed with a growing, green electricity inside them.  The fiery green light that crackled within the black storm clouds illuminated the land with an eerie green glow.  The earth was cracked and dry and as the storm ahead continued to boom above, the windy weather of the vast wasteland kicked up the sandy dirt around them.

"Well, whaddya  know?  Ya changed up the place, huh?  I like it!" the kid grinned as she cupped one bloody beaten hand over her brow and looked about the dreamscape.  The thirteen-year-old turned back around and saw that she had been left behind as the green Puff continued to float on ahead without her.  "Yo! Wait up!"

The green Puff carried on without stopping, moving towards a large, distant shadow in the east.  After several minutes, the kid managed to catch up, loudly wheezing and gasping for air as she tried to catch her breath beside the casual floating Powerpuff.

"Dude! I told ya to wait up!" she socked Buttercup on the shoulder with a bloody, bruised fist, "I don't have my ghost powers in this dream world!"

"What sorta sense does that make?"

"I dunno!" the kid threw up her hands, "You tell me!"  the kid paused to cough a little, splattering the dirt with blood.  She wiped at her mouth with her tattered sleeve, as she walked quickly beside the Powerpuff, "Here, I'm just like you were when Goody-Goody left ya behind on that island!   Weak and human-y and useless and burning alive!  You remember?"

The green Puff glared at the kid for a moment before muttering, "Yeah.  I remember."

"So, where we goin' anyway?"

As the two approached a tall arched golden gateway, the green Puff stopped and turned towards the kid.  "No way.  You ain't comin' with me, alright?  Why don't you run off somewhere else, and I dunno... play."

"Why?" the blood-soaked kid strained her eyes as she tried to peer through the thick golden bars of the gate. Besides only having one functioning eye, there was a dense mist in the air that made it difficult to see. "Where are we- Oh-" she stopped as her vision focused on a short redhead walking her pet Pomeranian through the garden.  "Her?" the kid laughed a little, "Dude.  What do you see in her, anyway?   Like... do you like gettin' bossed around, or is it the big boobs, or-"

"Shut up," the green Puff rattled the gate a little to get the kid's attention once more, "Look," the skinny teen's scarred hands grasped the kid by her hooded jacket and spun her to her left, "Go that way, alright?  You'll find Ace's place and have a good time."

"OK, cool!" the kid thankfully agreed, "Which building is it?  That one or that one?"

"What are you talkin' about?  There's only one other build-" the green Puff stopped mid sentence, noticing for the first time a tall silhouette in the distance.

The thirteen-year-old watched as the green Puff shot off for the tall structure with a flash of green light.  "Shit!" she started to chase after on foot, "Wait up!"

As soon as the structure came clearer into focus, the flying teen halted mid-air, "The water tower...?"

For a while, the green Puff remained suspended in the sky, watching the tower intently from afar.  As far as the hero could tell, there were no signs of anyone there, but the scene still felt too ominous.  It was several minutes before the teenager worked up enough courage to continue forward.

Touching down on the metal landing of the water tower, the structure was so high up in the eerie green atmosphere that the darkened mist was especially thick and overpowering even for superpowered vision.  The green Puff gulped nervously, walking cautiously around the platform, tense and ready for anything.  Both green eyes glowed as they searched around the labyrinth of the thick metal beams that supported the tower's massive water tank.   As the teenager reached the railing on the other side, far below could be heard the desperate wheezing and coughing of a struggling thirteen-year-old attempting to climb the tower's ladder.

"Oh, Man!" the kid shouted from below, "I don't think I'm gonna make it!  Dude... a little help?!"

The teenager sighed before zipping downward to retrieve the kid from halfway down the ladder.  The green Puff carried her back up to the metal landing and set her on her feet, but the kid instantly collapsed onto the floor, panting heavily from exhaustion.  

"You know..." the wheezing thirteen-year-old spoke between hard breaths, "That's hard enough... without powers... but climbing really sucks... when your hands... practically have no skin..." she sat up and coughed as she struggled to climb back onto her feet.  The kid stood silent for a while as she watched the green Puff continue to intently search around every metal beam of the platform.  "So what's up?" the kid finally asked after a while.  "What're you lookin' for?"

The green Puff came to the center of the landing, and turned to look back at the kid, wearing a somewhat disappointed frown.  "Nothin', I guess."

#update #chapter 12 #the kid #sneek peek

[iam-kenough]

Will you ever notice me? (Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character)

Summary:  Dutch and his boys found a girl hidden inside wrecked shack near their camp. She introduces herself as Iris and starts leading outlaw life with Van der Linde gang, quickly developing feelings towards one, special cowboy. However there is big year gap between them and Arthur sees Iris just as a kid...And girl won’t take that!

Authors notes: It’s another chapter and you can find the rest of them following masterlist on my blog if you  want to read more of my  fanfiction. Hope you gonna enjoy it! Words count: 2242 Chapter 12 Iris was at her tent, undressing herself with nose was patched up and she still heard Mrs Grimshaw's harsh yelling in her head. Her shirt landed on the floor as it was ruined with crimson of blood. - What the fuck were you thinking today?! - Arthur stormed inside her tent, completely ignoring fact she's undressed, wearing only her lingerie. - Huh? - she tilted her head to the side, looking visibly surprised. - You could kill yourself, you idiot, twice times today! - So what? That's my job - she shrugged - I'm an outlaw just like you. - Are you out of your mind? - Arthur looked furious, his voice harsh as gravel and eyes stormy. Iris was trying to reckon if he ever was furious like that before, but she couldn't remember. Not towards herself, at least. - What would be better in situation when I had choice to fall down along with the train, jump on my horse like you said and probably break my spine or risk life and jump into the water? - I'm not only about it - he growled, throwing his hands in the air and gesticulating with them, showing frustration - You're not going anywhere else with us! - Excuse me? I am amazing with getting things done, especially when you think that all Dutch's plans are stupid and naive while I can fix all of them. I am not gonna stop - girl shaked her head in disbelief.

- That's the problem, you are amazing with pulling these out, 'cause you are crazy! - Arthur grabbed her arm and shook Iris like it was meant to wake up her.

- Even if, what's bad about it? - Iris tried to back off, but couldn't as his fingers were pinning into her forearm.

- How couldya've said that you have nothing to lose? - Arthur said suddenly with much more silent voice, slowly looking away.

- But I don't and you know it's true! - Iris laughed but there was no joy in it

- My life? I'm gonna be dead sooner or later, I'm not a town girl nor wife sitting at home, I'm an outlaw just like you, Mr Morgan. The only difference is when I'm gonna die.

- I-I...How can you say things like this? They sound so easy in your mouth it makes me afraid - Arthur was disbelieving Iris's words with ''hurt puppy'' eyes.

- I always thought you're never lying to yourself, but here we are. What I'm saying is true, all I have is group of people in this camp, but everyone is risking, anyone can die tommorrow, or in two weeks, you just don't know it! You can't hold me away from all this dirt and...I needed this money.

- Money?! You were caring about the money?! - Arthur was starting to boil once more.

- I need it if I'm gonna move some day soon - she said and it made him freeze.

He threw her look of kicked dog. - What? - Iris noticed his intentions right away - You were thinking I'm gonna stay forever? I'm in my twenties and all I have is this tent and nowhere to go, no one to look after or no one to hold me there, isn't it obvious? I can go to New York, or even freakin' Tahiti, maybe become a doctor to make my life less boring and miserable. But that was exactly what Arthur was thinking. He just realized that now there was no strings attached between them and that she was thinking about moving, mentioning it in the past, when they were still friends, talking every night in the light of oil lamp. Arthur Morgan was always thinking that he has time but there she was, proving he's wrong and also a fool.

- Iris, I still need you - he said but she didn't hear him. There was screams coming from outside. At first, Iris bursted out, thinking that's it's something horrible, tripping over her own legs. But it was very opposite. Everyone could see like John Marston in kneeling in front of Abigail Roberts, holding an engagement ring.

-Oh my god, John, yes! - Abigail yelled with visible shock and disbelief in her eyes. Normaly woman didn't like being in the centre but marring John properly was her deep hidden dream.

- It's time for me, to do somethin' proper out of us, Aby. I want to make you happy - John was speaking quietly and with gentle manner but everyone heard it as no one dared to breath or else.

Iris was looking at pair, sharing few tears of joy. It was simply beautiful, somethin' she wished for them deeply in her heart. It was also something she was dreaming about for herself for short period of time and was moved that they were so lucky to have it. It was little proof for herself, that she could have normal life someday, that she could leave this camp and finally that they are were family. Disfunctional one, but family. She noticed with corner of her eye that Arthur was looking at her. She wiped her face from tears quickly, walking away to hug Abigail and John just like everybody. This evening turned away differently than everyone expected. People catched every bottle of booze they had and gathered around the fire. Soon they were singing every song they knew, laughing, talking and dancing. John was the one who's wasted the most, obviously, he liked to drink when he was happy and today happines weren't the right word. It was more than overjoy. There was also Iris with bottle in her hand, who was joyful enough to yell the lyrics of one songs they both knew, dancing with John as they were tripping over each other, making Abigail laugh as she clapped in the rythm her friends wasn't minding anyway.

Arthur was watching Iris carefuly. She looked happy, joyful even but it seemed weird and unsetteling. And then something clicked inside Arthur's head. Iris was drinking everyday, chugging down on bottle of whiskey almost every evening and now she, with her fragile body, was enough strong to keep up with John without getting wasted. She had also having this hip-flask that she was drinking from time to time. All puzzles fitted right now. - You're an alcoholic - Arthur hissed, when he catched Iris from between others and  quickly dragged away, hiding they both in his tent. Man quickly pulled down flaps, giving this conversation needed privacy. Arthur didn't care much if it's uncomfortable for Iris, the way he just treated her - How many drinks did you have today, eh?

- Hmm...A bottle and still counting! - she said, giggling, completely clueless - Come on, don't be such sourpuss, Mr Morgan!

- You're an alcoholic! - he shouted again, much more agressively at her face and girl stopped smiling right away.

- F'course I am - she spoke slowly, like was supposed to explain something to child - My daddy was and I am too, that's no surprise. Now I think I kind of get him, whiskey's your best friend. It always listens to your heart and it lulles you to sleep so easily, when all you see is dirty ceiling of your tent. It makes you warm, just like you were in lover arms - she looked dreamily now, smiling a little - That's why I'm gonna drink till the day I'll fall asleep drunk and choke myself with my own vomit. Cheers to that! - she took big gulp from the bottle, few drops falling down girl’s chin.

- No! - he grabbed her arm, tearing the whiskey away from her hands and spilling it on the floor.

- Ey, I payed for that! And you're stupid to think I had only one or two - she laughed but she was furious and it sounded more like barking.

-Get yourself together, eh?! - Arthur placed empty bottle on the trunk with loud bang.

- What?! You saying something like this? - she looked almost amused. Almost if only it wasn't for fury and fire dancing in her pupils.

- Yes, me! I won't let you ruin your life!

- And who you are to judge me, eh?! Big scary boys who clinged onto me when he gets drunk, crying because his lovely Mary won't have him nor now, not even in ten years, 'cause she's a bitch who uses him to run errands for her!

- Excuse me? - he froze, not knowing what's going on. It was his thoughts but he wasn't reckoning saying them out loud ever, especially to Iris.

- Oooh, bullseye, you don't remember it! - girl looked like she was satisfied as hell with this discovery - You seriously belived when I said you just blanked out after puking on my new coat the other night! But no, there's much more to that and I'm gonna tell you a story - she was pacing, looking at him with fury.

Arthur didn't say a thing, nor moved. He was to shocked, but God, if he knew what's coming he would sit down already. - So I was sitting in your tent the other night and you weren't there, as always. I felt frivolous enough to take a look around, finding maybe something funny I could torture you within' a while, but oh, I was so shoked! A pile of letters, love letters under your cot. You left me for Mary Linton, just cutting our strings lose, not respecting me enough to tell that out loud. But that was expectable, I've never thought well enough about myself to expect being treated nicely. I wanted to search for ya, I wanted honesty from your mouth - she stopped for a moment, collecting her thoughts - and I got it when someone shoot me, robbed me and left me to die.

- Iris, I- - Arthur choked on words as they fought to leave his throat.

- No, no, that's not the best one I have for you today, loverboy - she hissed - Because when someone found me and drove me to the doctor in Saint Denis, I've been told I'm gonna live because someone took a bullet for me and it was our child. I was pregnant and I found out about it like this. And I will probably never gonna be pregnant again - she lifter her chemise and there it was, fresh scar, shiny and pink, running from belly button to left side - How do you like it, Arthur? Look at it closely! I know I look beautiful like that - Iris's voice was malicious, getting every small amout satisfaction from relieving secret that would hurt Arthur just like he did hurt her. No, it was only very bad dream. He's gonna wake up and laugh it off. Even his life wasn't this much miserable. But no, it wasn't any fantasy and girl stormed pass him, going to her tent. Arthur followed her and when he entered Iris's tent she already was grabbing another whiskey, hidden under her cot.

- Why you didn't tell me straight away?! - Arthur was finally able to spit anything from mouth but his throat was numb, big gulp growing inside.

- You haven't even notice me missing, nor wondering why I lie in my tent all day and Dutch doesn't say a thing. Why would I tell you anything? - Iris shrugged, her face hopeless. How could Arthur expect anything from her?

- So I could protect you! I'm barely speaking english, how can you expect me to read your mind? - Arthur's eyes looked wet and red but not even single tear fallen down his cheeks. Man was to proud for this.

- Protect me from what? You should protect me from yourself, 'cause you're the one who knocked me over and left - Iris shaked head, face forming into a frown.

- Protect you so you would never get shot, protect you so you wouldn't work like that. I was doin' that with Eliza- - Arthur really tried to justify his need of protection but they both knew he couldn't, not right now.

- The girl I am similar to, but lacking her soothin' temper, eh? Oh I know all your dirty little secrets, 'cause you gave me no reason to trust you and I was right, never taking your presence for granted, nor your words. Arthur, you were going in and out of this relationship like my heart was made of stone - she sobbed, curling up in the very corner of her bed, cuddling a bottle of booze.

- I need you! - man looked at Iris hopelessly, trying anything he could try to get them both back on tracks. But for now there weren’t any right words.

- You merely remember to notice me, back then and now, Arthur - girl waved him off, ignoring confession - but I get this...After all I'm just a kid who can't even kiss you the way you like being kissed. Why would you ever got back to me? - she cried in despair but he just left, leaving her to herself. For Arthur it wasn't leaving because he hated Iris, he just couldn't deal with emotions that were tearing him apart right now, puting pins into his heart and causing migraine, pain pulsing in man's temples. But girl was thinking amiss, taking it as Arthur's giving up.

- Glad that I still have you - she whispered after a moment of looking into direction Arthur went, opening a bottle and downing it at once, then falling on her back and going asleep in yesterday's clothes. They simply weren't meant for each other. 

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x original femal character #arthur morgan x original character #arthur morgan x oc #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan romance #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan angst #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan fluff

[sweetdeathwrites]

Just A Coffee

Pairing: 40′s! Pre-serum!Steve / Waitress/Waiter!Reader

Summary: Out of all the people to walk in and steal your breath away, it had to be him–– and honestly, you’re fine with it. 

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, i got second hand embarrassment from writing some of this lol

Word Count: 3,116

Finally!! My first fic I’ve written since starting this blog!! I thought it’d be nice to start it off with some fluff and (love of my life) pre-serum steve!

tagging @youngmoneymilla for her kind advice in starting this blog, and @littledarlinwrites and @romanticsteggy for answering some requests I asked of them! You’re all too sweet and I hope you enjoy this!

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

There’s a scrawny man sitting in booth five again.

He’s about your height, rolls up the sleeves on his shirt at least twice, and looks like he weighs ninety pounds soaking wet, max.

He walked in last Tuesday, and since then you’ve found yourself daydreaming about him… You could kick yourself, really. Out of everyone to walk in, why did it have to be him?

On the bright side, he’s got a voice deeper than you expected looking at him, a thin face that’s been shaped by angels, and he’s polite as anything– including the tips he leaves.

You sigh and pick up a menu. A dollar’s a dollar, you remind yourself, then smooth out your apron on the walk to his booth.

As you approach, the blond picks up his head at the sound of your footsteps. Sweet baby blues are focused on you and it makes you bite your lip to keep a demure grin at bay. Jeanie, sitting behind the counter at the register snickers and that’s all it takes for you to let go off your lip and shake yourself into a more professional headspace.

“Good mornin’, sir,” you place the menu on the table in front of him. “Could I interest you in anything to drink while you take a look at the menu?”

He smiles and, good god, exactly who was it that polished that perfect row of teeth, all shiny and chrome? You want to know what the price range is on that baby. Maybe buy yourself one with all the tips he’s been giving.

“Sure is a great morning, now.” He says, almost confident with his ears all pink. “And a coffee would be just perfect.”

“Alrighty, sir, I’ll be back before you know it.”

Sure is a great morning, now…

Now?

With your back turned to him, you mouth the word again in disbelief. What did he mean, “now”?!

Second week of blondie coming in, he ends up seated at the wrong table. Well, not the wrong table, just not the tables you cover. Jeanie’s side of the diner.

You’re writing the orders of a sleepy family on vacation and get distracted by him. He flashes you a dazzling, nervous smile as he walks by you to the nearest empty seat, and waits with fidgeting hands for you to meander his way.

Instead, Jeanie walks by you with an apologetic smile and half-empty pot of coffee in her hand to the blond’s booth. His shoulders fall but he makes an order and a breath you didn’t realize was trapped in your chest melts out.

“ … and an order of hashbrowns–– actually, do you do half orders? I’m not feeling too hungry, is all,” the father finishes.

Aaand crap, you think to yourself, because for the last twenty seconds or so, your hand has been scribbling nothing but hearts over the poor family’s orders. What a way to start a morning.

By the third week, you’ve gotten a feel for his rhythm. Since that day with Jeanie, the blond has stuck to the booth in the far corner of the restaurant that catches the perfect amount of sun without getting too hot–– but most importantly, it’s your table.

“Hey again, sir,” you say, placing the menu straight into his hands. “Coffee?” You raise a brow, offering his usual.

“Thought I came to a diner, not a psychic’s,” is his reply, voice light with humor and just enough of sleep brought roughness to get the skin on the back of your neck to prickle. It’s a lame joke, but you laugh honestly anyway–– a little too hard, maybe, because Jeanie makes kissy faces at you when you go around the counter for the coffee pot. Her squeak and cussing when you kick her in the shin in passing soothe your pride a little.

Out of the few coffee pots sitting, you choose the hottest and freshest one. Not for blondie, of course… You’re just being dutiful in your work, is all… You swing your hip around a grumbling Jeanie and you look up and see him waiting, looking shy and handsome as ever.

Yep, you think as you pour him a cup, I’m just good at my job, is all.

Blondie swallows a lump in his throat and asks how you’ve been doing and as you lean on his table and look at his stupidly pretty face from above, you really can’t deny it anymore.

This man, pretty and in need of a few home cooked meals, has you at his mercy.

Oh, damn.

“Hey, look,” he starts, combing a hand through his short hair… making it all fluffed up. Making you want to run your hands through it, too. “I’ve been coming here a while, and… well, I don’t know your name yet. I’d love to get to know you better.”

He smiles, shaky as a newborn foal, and you wither in the warmest way possible.

Damn it all.

You give him your name–– and you’re maybe a little too eager because your middle name slips in by accident.

Blondie laughs, and he looks so much more relaxed now. It hits you that blondie was just as nervous as you about this, and the whole situation makes you lightheaded.

“Steve,” he says, hand out for you to shake. “I’m Steve Rogers.”

You take his hand in yours and it’s small and soft and perfect. The both of you hold the shake for a little longer than you should, and when he pulls back his elbow hits the coffee mug and sends it rolling, hot coffee spilling all over the table.

Steve curses, apologizing–– then apologizes for cursing, as you both rush to pile napkins over the mess. You’ll get an earful from Jeanie about having your head in the clouds and how you’ve done too good a job of reeling Steve in, but it’s worth it to see his brow furrow and his cheeks glow with embarrassment.

Steve stays until the morning rush is over, talking with you for a quick moment when no one needs help or a refill on their drink. He talks about his ma, a friend named Bucky, and of his passion for drawing. You lean in probably a bit too close, until you’re sitting in the booth across from him. Steve orders a new cup of coffee whenever your boss comes around to glare at the two of you.

“Here,” you place the fresh mug on his table and swing the handle of it over to him. His hand is already reaching for it, though, and his fingers slide up your knuckles and over the back of your hand. For just a second, your heart leaps out of your chest.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, head tucked against his chest and ears on fire, “and thanks.” He takes a sip, turning away from you and his eyes crawling every inch of wallpaper so he doesn’t have to meet your eyes. You’re just as flustered as he is, but he’s looking about as red as a boiled lobster right about now.

Pink, you’ve decided, is a delicious look on him.

“Look alive, sunshine,” Jeanie says a touch on the loud side, “Your boyfriend’s here.”

Turning, confusion written all over your face, is Steve. You want to give Jeanie a swift pinch but he’s watching–– and this time, he’s not alone.

A man is by his side, looking all kinds of fine and polished, but only the second handsomest thing you’ve ever seen. Steve mumbles something to him and nods in your direction. The new man smiles bright as the sun, and the two approach you.

“G’ morning,” Steve says, cheeks looking a little rosier than a second ago.

“Hi,” you say, grabbing two menus for courtesy–– Steve’s long since memorized the menu.

You’re about to lead the two men to Steve’s usual booth when the new man speaks up.

“Hello, sweetness,” he says, nodding at you, “I’ve heard lots about you.”

Brow quirked, you glance at Steve, who looks ready to chew his friend’s ear off when you’re out of sight. It’s another look you find unbearably cute on him.

As they slide into the usual booth, Steve fuming, you hand them their menus. “All good things, I hope?”

The man chuckles, dropping his angular jaw into his palm. From under long lashes, he looks up at you with what is truly a disarming smile, “Hard to paint you in a better light from what I’ve heard, honestly.”

At this, Steve kicks his friend from under the table, and rather hard from the yelp you get from the unfamiliar man.

“Two coffees, please,” Steve grits out. His hands are clenched white around the plastic menu and you hear its squeaking between his fingers.

“Sure thing, sugar,” you toss over your shoulder. Steve blushes again and his friend all but leers at him for it. The two boys are really at it, you can tell–– not only are their whispers loud and agitated, but other customers turn around to watch them box at each other. You shake your head.

Two coffees in hand, they stop fighting just as you arrive back at the table. The new man huffs and takes a sip of his coffee as Steve speaks up.

“This is Bucky,” he says, voice still firm, “And I brought him along because I thought he would be better behaved.”

Bucky’s head flies up like he’s about to start another fight and you intervene.

“Ah, well,” you shrug, “you’ve got enough manners for the two of you.”

Bucky holds his chest like you’ve shot him and you can’t help laughing, and they both seem to soften a little bit at that, then conversation and banter and the slightest bit of flirting flow easily. As it was with just the two of you before, you end up leaning on the table, then into Steve’s side of the booth. You tell them you’re just giving your feet a rest, but Bucky grins and his eyes flit between you and Steve. He looks proud, chest all puffed out and cheeks near sore from how wide he’s been smiling.

You turn to see what Bucky finds so interesting, and you have to stop yourself from bumping noses with Steve. He reels back and turns his head to cough a little to excuse himself, and you’re stuck with a fluttering feeling in your belly.

Bucky’s smiling but has the grace to change the topic.

The vinyl seat squeaks when you lean back into it, and you can see Steve’s hand just a few inches from yours. His fingers tap the seat restlessly, and he is looking at Bucky so intently that you’re sure he’s ignoring how close your hands are.

You roll your eyes but can’t stop your heart from leaping when you loop your pinky finger around his. Steve jolts and whips his head to look at you, then your hands, and back to you again. He’s got to be the least subtle person on the planet, honestly. Bucky’s continuing on with his story but snickering through it.

You really can’t recall a single word he says, though, because Steve squeezes your pinky against his then holds your hand fully. His hand is small and slim but it’s the shape of joy and happiness, and you think to yourself that you don’t want to go another day without his fingers entwined with yours.

It’s safe to say that Bucky’s rambling fell on deaf ears for the rest of their time in the diner.

“Are you doing anything after this?” Steve asks one day, after you take his bill and empty cup from him. You’re startled by his words, but not as much as he seems to be–– redness creeps up his neck until he’s covered with it and he raises his arms up in wild gesticulation.

“Not to assume, or pressure you into anything,” he stammers, “but I thought it would be nice to talk to you outside of this place. I-It’s a nice place, not to say it isn’t, but I just–– I wanted to take you out to–”

Steve just completely stops talking after those words. “Take you out,” he said.

Take you out…

Take you out!

“I’m sorry, I just––”

“Yes.”

Steve’s eyes widen at your interruption. The clatter of silverware and the easy conversation of other patrons fade away. He swallows, and chokes a little.

“Pardon?”

“Don’t make me say it again, Rogers.”

“No, it’s just–– did you hear me right?” Steve’s in disbelief, head tilted slightly. Though he’s the one asking you out, in this moment he really believes you’ve absolutely lost your mind.

You take a pause. Doubt creeps in and your worst nightmare seems to be unfolding right before you. “Well, gee… I sure hope I did.”

The conversation dies out again for a second. Both of you are at a loss for words.

“Um,” you begin.

“Well,” he says at the same time.

At this moment, you want nothing more than to claw your hair out and crawl into the kitchen freezer. Steve looks like he’s going to sprint out of here.

Not knowing what else to say, you default to, “Coffee?”

“Please,” Steve breathes out heavily, slumping his body back into the seat. Truth be told, this went way worse than he anticipated.

As you walk back to the counter, colors and sounds blur. Red becomes yellow becomes blue, and everything is much too loud. The coffee pours slow into a mug and you see every little chip in the handle and the coffee stains on the side of the mug.

Your apron feels too tight, too itchy. Jeanie is a few tables away–– you could probably give her the mug, tell her you’re leaving town, and catch a Greyhound to the other side of the country, all by noon today if you make the move now.

It’s all for moot, though. Your feet remember the steps and you end up by Steve’s side without remembering the walk over.

“Here,” you place the cup in front of him.

His head is in his hands and when he looks up, he stares straight ahead. His hands drag over his face and you’ve never seen a man as tortured as him.

“Thanks.”

You don’t know what to do, so you just stand before him, hands wrestling and sweaty. You can’t not look at Steve, how nervous and conflicted he looks. It’s worrying you, honestly… Did you really hear him wrong?

“I, um,” Steve shakes his head. “Wow.”

You’re cursing yourself for every little look and glance you’ve ever exchanged with Steve, cursing yourself for introducing yourself to him, for ever walking up to his table. You curse yourself for taking this stupid job, for living in New York, for falling in love with this beautiful mess of a man and––

“Okay, let me try again.”

Steve turns in his seat to face you.

“Look, I like you.” He takes a deep breath. “I really like you. And I’d like to take you out on a date, if that’s what you want. If you like me and want that, too.”

And just like that, all the air leaves you. You’re close to fainting, you think, with the relief that just coursed through you.

Steve looks like he’s bracing for impact, for you to physically attack him with the way his eyes are clenched shut and shoulders hiked up high on his neck.

In a way, he’s right–– you launch yourself at him and throw your arms over his shoulders to kiss him firm on the mouth.

You feel his eyelashes brush your face as his eyes shoot open, not expecting this in the least. They close shortly after, returning the kiss and his hands landing on your waist to pull you closer to him.

The kiss lasted no more than a few seconds, but Steve’s winded and gasping when you pull away from him. It probably doesn’t help that you’ve landed, basically, in his lap during the kiss.

“Sorry,” he says, “It’s my asthma.”

For some reason, that leaves you laughing, an absolutely side-splitting and tear-jerking fit of laughter. Steve joins in too, though he’s not sure why.

Your forehead is pressed against his shoulder and his hands on your waist feel like the most blissful, comforting sensation you’ve ever felt. You jolt up with a gasp, however, when you remember.

“You need to pay.”

“What?” Steve asks, incredulous. Sure, he had no intention of asking you to a date then letting you pay for it yourself–– the first time at least–– but he couldn’t deny you outright saying it was a bit rude.

“The coffee.”

He looks over at the cooling mug of coffee that sat untouched. He can’t help laughing again, head rolling back against the seat.

“I don’t know why I offered you it, honestly,” you say sheepishly, and pull back from him a little. His lap probably wasn’t the best place to sit yourself on during work hours, as much as you wished you could sit back down and get kissed senseless, you really needed the work.

“I don’t know why I bought it!” Steve stands, seems to want to move closer to you. He slides his hand into yours, pinky first, and continues. “How about I settle this cup and meet you at the door?”

Your grin is cheshire-like, and you steal a look at the clock. Your shift is over in seconds, thankfully. “I’ll see you there.”

Steve takes a moment of holding you close, his eyes keep sliding back to your lips. He leans in and kisses you again, and this time you allow yourself to melt. Kissing him is sweet and soft and the slightest bit slick–– it’s electrifying and you can’t wait to see all the different kinds of ways he can make you feel with his kiss.

He pulls away and you purr, tongue flicking out to your bottom lip. It catches Steve’s eye, of course, and he reddens and his breath gets caught in his throat.

“Go on,” he struggles to say, voice hoarse and a little strained.

You all but skip back to the counter, untying your apron and throwing it in the back.

You pass Jeanie on your way out, Steve’s thrown a handful of coins on the counter, and you loop your arm in his. Jeanie watches you turn the corner with your head on Steve’s shoulder, walking away from the commotion the two of you caused in the diner from all that tense confession mess and PDA.

“Fools, the two of them,” she shakes her head, “Lovestruck and absolute fools.”

#captain america #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers/reader #ca:tfa #fanfic #mcu #fanfiction #mcu fanfic #mcu fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #40's steve rogers #40s steve #pre serum steve #pre-serum steve #god i love this stupid little twink..... #steve rogers #u bet ur ass i have another skinny steve in the works!! i think it's gonna be a 2 chap at least tho #so i prolly won't post that till I'm done w both parts

[yourfaveisyanderematic]

Man, you know what I haven’t writen yet?  Something for Abbacchio.  Love me some Abbacchio.

Literally nobody requested this, but we do a little thing on this here blog called ‘what I want’.

Additional warnings: Reader is a sex worker, but nothing more saucy than a kiss happens.

sex is a substitute, like money or language.

Concrete rubs a sandpaper kiss against your skin, and there’s a bite of blood in your teeth when you smile.  “There a problem, officer?”

“Shut up.”

The hand twisted in your hair tightens and forces your head against the wall, harder this time.  You twist your wrists this way and that to try to get into a more comfortable position, pressed against this wall like you are, but the steel handcuffs are absolutely unyielding and you only get a metallic rattle for your trouble.  Your new friend did them way too tight, and if this conversation takes more than a minute you’re going to be losing all sensation in your hands for a bit.  You don’t care how much this guy might demand—cops were worse than the junkies when it came to trying to get money out of people, you swear—there’s no way you’re giving him anything tonight.

And then, of course, you remember that your rent is due in a couple days and you’re still a couple hundred short (Dolcetta needed to take her kid to the doctor and nobody else would lend to her, Cereza got caught in a vice raid and everyone needed to pitch in for bail, Marco needed cash for smokes, it was always something) and, all things being equal, you’d really rather not waste valuable time sitting in a jail cell for however long this asshole decides is fair payment for you refusing to cough up some cash.  The vicious, defiant smile turns into something more cloying, wheedling, even though your face is turned away from him and he couldn’t have seen either expression anyway.

“I’m sorry, officer, really I am,” you fumble for an excuse that would sound good to the unfeeling brick wall at your front and the still-faceless officer at your back, “I just got defensive when you grabbed me all of a sudden like that.  I’m new to this,”

(You weren’t new to this)

“I’ve got a kid to feed…”

(You only had yourself, and even that was proving a challenge sometimes)

“and if I don’t make enough I won’t have a roof over my head…”

(This part’s true; your landlord made it very clear what would happen if you were even a day late with rent again)

“Tell you what—I’ve got some cash in my boot.  It’s not much, but you can help yourself—let’s put this behind us, okay?”

You’ve already resigned yourself to losing a hundred-odd euro, and are doing the math on how much more you’ll need to work to make it up, so it’s with a startle of surprise that you find yourself slammed against the wall, harder this time, and the cop’s body is pressed against yours until you don’t even have the space to breathe.

“I’m so fucking tired—“ his voice breaks on the word in a way that makes you hold your breath, as if he’s a breath away from crying, “—of people offering me money.”

Oh, the poor dear.  You might not have been new, but he certainly was.  There’s not enough distance to mask the way he’s trembling, slightly, like the girls who come to this city all bright with dreams only to end up loitering on street corners.  Everyone has to go through this at some point, you’d told one of them as you held her hair while she vomited in a shitty club bathroom, you come into the world hopeful and shiny and then find out how the world really is.  How hard everyone has it.  You turn into things you promised yourself you wouldn’t, because everything’s rotten and horrible but you still have to eat.  

Ultimately, everyone gets paid to pretend.  There are different ways of handling it; some people ignore what’s happening until they can’t anymore, some drink, some cry loud enough to wake the neighbors while making food at ungodly hours.  Some people take it out on others, smashing things and people to glittering shards, whatever they can get their hands on, just to feel like they’re in control of something.

Several seconds pass before you realize to your complete mortification that you were saying those words out loud.  He’s still, still enough that you could have convinced yourself you were alone if he wasn’t still holding you by the head and pressing against your back.  Notes of lavender and vanilla drift on the night air, a cologne that smells a little too nice to be a cop’s choice.  Your new friend’s full of surprises.

“That’s horrible.  That’s an absolutely horrible way of looking at it,” He says at long last with a noise that could be a humorless laugh, or a badly disguised sob.

“Am I wrong?” the words are out of your mouth before you realize that maybe it’s a bad idea to antagonize the cop who’s already got you cuffed and against a wall.  He just sighs, though.

“I wish you were.  End of the day, we’re both getting fucked, I guess.”

Your fingertips have bypassed ‘numb’ and are now in ‘tingling uncomfortably’ territory, but now doesn’t feel like a good time to bring that up.  It’s your turn to sigh, now, resting your cheek against the cool brick and taking another breath of his scent.  Will you smell like him after this encounter?

“You’ll get better at dealing with it.”  You try to keep your voice clean of bitterness, but the way his hand falls out of your hair tells you he heard it anyway.  Cops always do.  Nothing cures idealism faster than constantly seeing the state of this city; it wouldn’t surprise you for a moment if this bleeding-heart rookie ended up becoming one of the Vice officers curb stomping your friends a few years down the line.

The pain in your fingers is getting too difficult to ignore.  “Ah…not that I’m not enjoying this little heart to heart, but do you think you could…” you wiggle your hands a little, feeling him suck in a breath as they dance against his ribcage, and he hastily steps back a few inches to let you relax and turn around.  You lean back, shrugging your shoulders to get some of the tension out and relax your wrists, and regard him, illuminated by the shitty streetlamp.

He’s…cute?  When he grabbed you, all you’d seen was a flash of buzzed gray hair, so you’d assumed you were going to be felt up by some old pervert, but his face is really young; he had to be around your age.  His uniform hugs his body, emphasizing the clean physique of someone who either cared a lot about exercise or was fresh out of the academy, and his features are sharp and handsome and furrowed in a way that made you wish you weren’t cuffed, just so you could reach up and smooth the worry out of them.

Right now he looks borderline sheepish, glancing between your lips and the stretch of exposed skin on your chest as if he can’t decide what would be more inappropriate to get caught staring at.  You bat your eyelashes at him, more sincere in your teasing than you were in your bargaining only a minute or two ago.

“Like what you see, officer?”

He dithers for a moment, opening his mouth as if to reply, and suddenly leans in to press his mouth against yours.

Your new cop friend clearly hasn’t kissed much; there’s a lot of teeth, and he doesn’t really know what to do with his tongue, and he’s clumsy, in the way that people eager to do something but unsure how to do it are.  You find yourself closing your eyes and leaning into it a little nonetheless.

It’s not until you feel him tuck a little wad of cash into your shirt that you open your eyes and watch him step away, a little smear of your lip color around his mouth (and he was wearing lipstick, too, you realized, you probably had it smudged on your face as well).  There’s a hint of a smile, now, and it looks out of place on a face that looks like it was born stern but you can’t say you dislike it.

“That’s for your rent, the only part of that little spiel of yours I actually believed.”

He twirls the keys to his cuffs around his finger, and for a moment you relax thinking he’s finally going to uncuff you, but to your horror you watch him turn around and walk to his car.

“You work around here, right?  I’m Abbacchio, but Leone’s fine too.”

“Hold on—hey.  Hey!” you protest, moving forward, but he’s starting his car when he looks up at you.  His smile’s turned into a smirk.

“That’s for lying three times in one breath and trying to bribe an officer of the law.  I’m sure you know someone who can get those off.”

#by me #yandere abbacchio #that's just for my tagging system next to none of this is actually yan IMO #I just *clenches fist* love one vaporwave man #hi! Finally getting back in the writing groove #had a HELL of a meltdown and now I think it's all out of my system #fun fact I kinda promised this a literal week ago #why does anyone expect anything from me oops #time to go on my apology tour and talk to the people I've been leaving on read for days oh no

[marshmallow-phd]

Secret in His Eyes

Spinoff of Sins of the Father

Genre: Mafia Au

Pairing: Luhan x Reader

Summary: A vacation exploring China’s famous city was supposed to be relaxing. When you witness a horrifying murder, you instead find yourself in police custody, unable to run. Trying to stay alive, you meet Luhan, and you believe you can trust him. You never imagined that he might be the one you should be running from.

Part: Prologue I 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I Final

**

This city was beautiful. The touristy parts, anyway. You were sure that – like every other city in the world – Beijing had its ugly scars, too. But you stayed in the areas that all the brochures and websites bragged about, saving you from having to see those not-so-shiny places.

You’d been saving up for this trip for the past year and a half. All your life you wanted to experience just one place new. Then you’d be perfectly content going back to your ordinary life with your office job. Or maybe this trip would just make you eager for the next one. It was kind of a toss up at this point in your youth. But you wouldn’t worry about whether or not you could be content with your boring routine until you were back home. For now, you’d continue exploring, taking in the beautiful, ancient architecture that was so unique to the region, visiting the art and history museums to learn more about what you were seeing, and trying all the street food you could get your hands on. Your main focus was to take in all that you could and not forget a single moment.

When you’d first arrived in Beijing, a nauseated feeling had bubbled up in your stomach. You were in foreign territory, completely on your own, with very little knowledge on how to navigate this roaring city. The feeling refused to die down as you checked into your hotel and searched the maps you’d been given by the front desk worker for something to eat. Even with as exhausted as you were from traveling, sleep didn’t come easy. By some miracle, however, you woke up the next morning much more at ease with your surroundings. Still nervous about getting lost or accidentally offending someone, but it wasn’t as threatening a feeling as it had been before. Going throughout your day, you nearly forgot all about your worries, too absorbed in your findings to pay attention to it.

By day three, you were practically a local. It was so magical, each new finding, that you couldn’t believe this was truly your reality, like soon you’d wake up to find it was all a dream.

“Oh, back again?”

You blushed as you bobbed your head in greeting. There was one vendor in the market place near your hotel that you kept coming back to. A mother and daughter team sold the most delicious baozi you’d ever tasted. Granted, your experience was limited to a few blocks, but it was a common street food and none compared to this dynamic duo’s. While the mother didn’t speak English, you were able to communicate with the daughter well enough.

“It’s my favorite treat,” you admitted shyly. The daughter waived you closer before pulling out two steaming, fresh buns, wrapping them carefully before holding them out to you. When you started to pull out your wallet, she shook her head. “No. These are just for you. Since you like them so much.”

You pursed your lips. “That doesn’t feel right.”

“You’ve been a loyal customer,” she laughed. “It’s the least we could do! However,” she rounded the cart, coming up close to you as she lowered her voice, “tonight is the Shangyuan Festival. My mother will be staying in, but if you would like to join me to make her happy that I won’t be alone, we’ll consider that payment.”

It still didn’t seem fair, but you laughed anyway. “Yes, of course!” You’d noticed the streets being decorated with paper lanterns since your arrival – some were the traditional round red ones you were used to, but others were shaped like flowers and animals, beautifully crafted and painted, making you stare in awe. “It’d be nice to have someone show me the festival.”

“Good! It’s settled then. We will close before the sun sets, so meet me here then. We’ll walk my mother home and then I will show you the festival!”

You nodded eagerly. Before parting so you could hurry to your other planned activities for the afternoon, you finally learned the daughter’s name: Shishi. It was cute and not something you’d really heard before.

The afternoon hours seemed to fly by and before you knew it, the sun was beginning to disappear from the sky. As quickly as you could, you ran back to the stall, careful not to ram anyone down in the process. Shishi was still waiting for you patiently, her mother shaking her head at you in a scolding manner.

“I’m so sorry,” you huffed, half doubled over from your exhausting sprint.

“It’s okay,” Shishi laughed at you. “Let’s get Mother home and then we’ll attend the festival.”

You nodded and stepped back for her to lead the way. Their home wasn’t too far from the stall and once Shishi saw her mother inside, the two of you took off towards another district in the city where a big crowd had gathered near the Chaobai River.

Lanterns of all shapes and sizes hung from nearly ever ledge. Children ran around the streets while carrying sticks that held small paper fish on the ends of strings, making it looking like schools of fish were swimming through the air. Different sweet scents drifted up to your nose, making your mouth water.

Perhaps seeing that ravenous look in your eye, Shishi pulled you over to one of the vendors, getting each of you one of those sugar coated sweets made by the true experts of the trade. The artists didn’t have fancy, expensive culinary schooling; they simply had tradition and a love for the for food.

You continued to walk along the street in order to take in all the sights happening around you. This was the reason you’d come to the beautiful city of Beijing. The joy and laughter around you was infectious and you felt as if you were on the receiving end of a precious gift. All the pictures and blogs in the world couldn’t truly capture the feeling, the essence of the festival and the deep rooted traditions happening before your very eyes. No matter what happened to you on this trip, you knew tonight would be something that you would never forget.

**

Luhan leaned back in his chair and waited rather impatiently for the underling to arrive. It was ten minutes past the time he was told to be here and Luhan was losing his patience.

For the past month, he’d had a man inside the main police department of Beijing and he needed his updates. Lately, the cops had been one step ahead of him while conducting his deals, putting several of his suppliers behind bars and ruining his business. His own customers were getting antsy, hence why he needed the information to squash the rat.

Leaning up against the wall to his right, Kris chewed on a toothpick between his teeth. “I thought he was supposed to be here by now.”

“Unfortunately, Xiaofei isn’t known for his punctuality,” Luhan huffed. He picked up the glass ball he kept on his desk and inspected it, although there was nothing wrong with the small paperweight. In the low lighting of his office, he could only make out a faint shadow on the smooth glass rather than his reflection. The small globe was almost completely see-through except for the etched continents covering the surface. While he couldn’t quite say that he held the world in his hands, the little globe gave him a sense of accomplishment, even when things went a little askew.

“I still think we should have sent someone else,” Tao whined from the couch. He was staring up at the ceiling, hands folded behind his head for a pillow as he reclined on his back. His suit jacket was draped across the back of the couch to save it from wrinkling.

Luhan rolled his eyes. He was tired of having this conversation over and over again. “Xiaofei already had connections within the office, I’ve told you that. Plus, he’d be able to blend better than most.”

There weren’t many people in the world Luhan could trust, the top two being in this room. Everyone who worked for him was under constant surveillance and he occasionally had to clean out the filth with little crumbs of fake information. It was how he survived all these years. The Chinese underworld was ruthless. He hardly had a moment where he wasn’t watching his back.

Just then, the door to the office creaked open. Tao sat up, eyeing the crack that wasn’t quite big enough to let a human through while Luhan placed the globe back down on the desk with a heavy thump. The vaguest outline of a shadow, visible against the white door frame, flinched at the sound. Luhan could practically smell the stench of fear radiating off of the underling from his seat.

Picking up his feet and placing them back down on the floor, Luhan growled, “Just come in before I lose my patience and shoot you through the door.”

That little threat did the trick. Xiaofei scurried inside the office, closing the door behind him with a sound that was halfway between a click and a slam. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as if he was trying to keep the contents of his stomach from spilling out onto the rug. The police uniform Xiaofei had been given was wrinkled and half untucked. Were his men really such slobs?

Clearing his throat, Xiaofei straightened up and then bowed at a ninety-degree angle. He was putting on a brave front, they all knew. And Luhan would let him play his little act.

“Sir, I have not been able to find the leak within the department as of yet.” The voice that left Xiaofei’s mouth didn’t match the round, burly face he was born with. It was of a higher pitch, not fit for his age. The face that Luhan imaged the voice belonging to was one of a rat, pointed and sharp, all the features focused in on the center. It was a face that fit Xiaofei’s character much more closely.

“Did you even really try?” Tao spat. His dark eyes were narrowed at the underling. He was not one to take kindly to a lack of results.

“Y-yes, sir,” Xiaofei bowed quickly to the silver-haired boss. “The department is very tight-lipped. They don’t take too kindly to new faces. It’ll take me another few months to get them to trust me.”

“We don’t have another few months,” Kris snarled, flicking the toothpick at the trembling man. The little piece of wood stuck to Xiaofei’s shoulder, but he made no attempt to brush it away, accepting the small but humiliating action.

Luhan let out a long sigh in order to make his displeasure known in a much more subtle manner. “Xiaofei.” The man flinched at the sound of his name even though Luhan didn’t raise his voice above a causal level. “Before I sent you in there, you swore to me that you had connections inside. Now, that wasn’t a lie, was it?”

“No, sir, I swear!” Xiaofei staggered on his feet as he tried to plead for his life. As soon as Luhan stood, the coward fell to his knees in a showy sign of respect. “My connections are good. It’ll just take a little more time. Please. I will find the leak. I swear it.”

Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, Luhan bent down and stared Xiaofei down. “You have one month left. I suggest you bring me back something viable at the end of that time frame. If you don’t, then you’ll be replaced.” Letting him go with a forceful shove, Luhan headed for the door. He only paused long enough to give one last warning. “I like to think of this organization as a well-oiled, well-maintenanced machine. The only way to keep it working is to upgrade the parts that have become useless. And there’s only one thing to do with useless parts, isn’t there?”

Though Xiaofei didn’t look back at Luhan, the shiver that ran down his spine and shook his shoulders was visible enough proof that the message had been received. With confident steps, Luhan glided down the hall of the mansion he called home. Soon, he would find out who was undermining his operations and he would make sure they regretted ever going up against The Deer before he ended their life for good.

**

Your feet were aching and throbbing, but you still weren’t ready to go home for the night. Stuffed full of delicious street food made only during this special time, you continued to follow Shishi through the crowds, stopping every once in a while to watch a choreographed dance by a group of performers ora magic show put on by a man you suspected might be tricking the audience in more ways than one.

The stars above were beginning to come alive for the night, adding to the mystical atmosphere. Only the strongest were able to be made out against the fading backdrop thanks to the stronger lights of the city. It made you a little sad, not being able to see a sky full of twinkling stars, but you pushed that emotion away, preferring to focus on the happier commotion around you.

However, when you brought your eyes back to the festival, Shishi was gone. You whirled around several times, but you couldn’t find her. Over and over, you called out, but no reply was ever sent back your way. Frantically, you shoved through the crowd. Had something happened to her? Or had you simply been separated? It was your own fault for dawdling and not paying attention. Panic was starting to set in. Until you saw a familiar bun of black hair resting on top of a head that was about Shishi’s height.

You followed the bun through the crowd until the owner disappeared into an alleyway. She took a few more twists and turns before you finally caught up to her, grabbing her shoulder in relief.

“Shishi!”

When she turned around, however, you were frustrated to find that it wasn’t your friend, but a stranger you’d never seen before. She threw you a snarled look even as you bowed out an apology over and over again. Soon you were alone again and utterly lost. The only light to see by came from the more occupied main streets, but you weren’t sure which one you should head towards to try and find your way back. Every direction looked the same. You cursed yourself for not paying more attention the further you got from the main street.  

Crash!

You jumped back against the brick wall, collapsing down to hide in the shadow of a dumpster when you saw a man fall to the cracking asphalt, his head bouncing off the ground as he landed hard on his back. Even in the dim light, you could make out a stream of blood running down from his nose and over his lips before dripping off his chin. When another man stepped into your line of vision, you shrank farther back, practically melding with the grime-covered trash bin.

The man who was still standing pulled out a gun and pointed it down at the one on the ground. As if knowing that his end was near, the first man simply groaned and turned his face upwards towards the sky. The man with the gun chuckled and began speaking in Mandarin. You couldn’t understand a majority of the words leaving his mouth, but one word did stick out to you: Lu. He repeated it a few times, mixed around in sentences that you couldn’t make out.

Then he shot the man on the ground, the bullet slicing through his forehead.

You couldn’t stop the gasp that your shock and horror forced out. Immediately, you slapped a hand over your mouth, praying that he hadn’t heard you. Seeing that there was just enough space between the wall and the dumpster, you scrambled to better hide yourself, hoping that you weren’t simply jumping into the barrel for an easier target.

Footsteps slowly headed in your direction, crackling the loose pebbles under his shoes with each step. You squeezed your eyes shut and sent up a silent prayer to anyone who might be listening. And apparently, someone was.

Sirens blared from a street close by. You barely caught the man disappearing around the corner when you risked opening your eyes. Slowly, you crawled out from behind the dumpster. Your hand landed warm and sticky, making you jump back with a scream when you realized it was blood pooling out from the dead man’s head.

Two new voices shouted and you threw your hands up to show you were unarmed. A bright light made you squint and you couldn’t tell who was approaching you, but you hoped it was the police. The light finally lowered. You let out a sigh of relief. The two officers lowered their guns and exchanged dumbfounded looks.

You had no idea what kind of mess you’d stumbled into.

#exo #exo mafia au #exo mafia!au #luhan x reader #luhan #lu han #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #kris wu #wu yifan #huang zitao #z.tao #tao #exo gang au #exo gang!au #exo series #Secret in His Eyes

[yzssie]

FANFIC GONE... GOOD? Pt. 1

Characters: Tom Hiddleston x reader

Chapters: 1/3

Warnings: (College) Teacher x student, smut.

Words: 2.8k

A/N: Ok so I thought of posting this yesterday since we had a birthday boy ❤ But I was out all day so I couldn’t proof-read. I had to split this fanfic in two parts because I wrote over 5k words, Jesus Christ I WAS EXCITED. Therefore, the first chapter has no smut and is just explaining our situation /evil Loki creepy smirk/ Without further ado, action!

*part 3 is out, check Masterlist*

English literature was a course you always loved but surprisingly, things could get even better than you thought.

Your original teacher moved away and the college was obliged to hire someone new since the other teachers were already busy. You weren’t expecting that the nice old lady who made you love literature more than you already did, was going to be replaced with the most handsome male you have ever seen before your eyes.

Mr. Tom Hiddleston. Now, you don’t want to sound desperate but, the truth has to be spoken. The fact that he is an English literature teacher makes him twice as hot as he already is.

The first time you saw him entering the classroom you couldn’t help but stare, and you weren’t the only one. His tall lean figure was graciously walking to his desk. His white shirts, God bless his outfits choices, was perfectly wrapping his burly chest, so you could almost see his delicious abs through the thin material. His long legs were taking slow but long steps, swaying his hips in the most tenacious, yet manly, intimidating style. His pants were molded on his round ass in a way that made your fists clench at the thought of running your fingers along his back muscles, down to his spine and finally grabbing those delectable asscheeks. His eyebrows were furrowed, cheekbones popping out, his strong jawline covered with a trace of a copper beard, and as soon as his shiny blue eyes moved to scan the whole room, his lips broke into a charming smile before as he introduced himself. If his tantalizing face wasn’t enough, his voice was so deep and husky, you swore your lower part trembled in arousal. Studying your professor, instead of studying his actual notes, you observed he has a habit of running his long fingers through his brown curls and of licking his lips when he concentrates on an answer. During the class, he is usually rolling up his sleeves to the elbow, showing up his veiny and muscular arms.

That’s what got you here now, typing silently on your laptop while darting your eyes on the enticing teacher. You have this secret Tumblr blog you’re running, writing smutty content in order to relieve yourself from the sexual frustration you’ve built up all these years while not finding the right time to enter in a relationship. You had a considerable amount of followers who are always excited about every new story you post. You would have never done this at school, but Mr. Hiddleston right here doesn’t help your current state too much and you couldn’t handle yourself. Thoughts flow continuously as he’s teaching his course, your fresh new teacher x student piece of work is extremely appreciated. You are almost in the last row of seats, the row behind you is empty. The perfect place for nobody to pay attention to what you are doing besides your best friend seated next to you, rolling her pen while concentrating on your teacher’s remarks. The third chapter is getting a good start until a little bump in your sides startles you and when you look up at your teacher you find him staring directly at you.

“Miss Y/N, have you been listening to what I was saying?”

Panic envelops your whole mind. Shit, we're talking about Othello, aren’t we? You steal a glance at your best friend’s laptop and read her last phrase. Your answer is more a question than an answer and he narrows his eyes.

“Are you asking me or are you answering me?”

“Answering,” you try to sound more confident but you’re pretty sure he saw your eyes flash to your friend’s notes.

“Indeed we were,” his lips tighten as he glances at the clock. “Please send me your essay on our last analyzed work now and then you’re free,” he tells to the class after throwing another short judging look to your presence.

You admit that you are extremely embarrassed right now, so you quickly close both of your fanfiction and essay and attach the document on your desktop to the email before sending it to Mr. Hiddleston. You get up quickly and mutter a “goodbye” while your friend storms out after you.

“I have told you that you need to get a grip of yourself!” she states while she’s struggling with her bag.

“I know,” you sigh taking a seat on the closest free bench you find. “I love literature and I am usually paying attention, but… look at him!... It’s like… like he’s sculpted by the Gods,” you roll your eyes and your friend chuckles.

“You and every other girl drooling over our literature teacher.”

“I am pretty sure you'd do the same if you didn’t have a boyfriend,” you peer at her as you’re starting your laptop again.

“Your new fanfiction is really good though,” she grins at you and you smirk back.

“That’s why I was a little bit absent. It… gets better if I write it while I have the inspiration in front of me,” you crack your hands before opening your fanfic folder and your breath hitches.

“What?”

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck, why isn’t it here?” you curse and go back to the desktop to open the document saved there.

“Oh my God,” your whole body freezes as the file named “Document” which was supposed to be the essay was actually the third part of your newest fanfiction. You were in such a hurry that you forgot to rename the fanfiction file and switch to the specific folder for fanfiction. The actual essay file was in your documents folder, where you saved it last night at 4 am. You were too tired to review it and you just lazily saved it as it was, without a name or a specific location. You were actually planning to read it again and make the final touches during class but you were caught up in the fanfic and forgot to do it and then Mr. Hiddleston flustered you and… you’ve just ruined your life.

“Earth to Y/N, what happened?” your friend shakes you and your face contorts in regret.

“I have sent… I… the file… my fanfic….” you were stammering with your words.

“You sent Mr. Hiddleston the fanfic you wrote about him?!” she whispers and you nearly scream at her.

“INSPIRED!” you nearly yelled at her before pausing, “Inspired by him,” your voice lowers and you feel your whole existence crumbling away.

“Shit. Just… send him another email with the right document and tell him that you mistakenly attached a different file.”

Your fingers were shaking on the keyboard while browsing through the Gmail again.

“What if he opens it?”

“I don’t know… write something like “please ignore it?” “

“That’s exactly the wrong thing to say. He might get more curious.”

“Then just send it by saying you got the wrong essay and done.”

“I have to erase that email,” you shudder after you successfully sending the right file.

“Sure, what are you going to do? Break into his office?”

You turn your head at your friend and she frowns.

“No… no no no. Are you crazy? This might get you expelled!”

“The fanfiction itself will get me expelled!”

“Maybe he won’t read it. C’mon, you gave him another file. Why would he bother?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“I… I guess so. But he’s a teacher.”

“So what, you think teachers have no curiosity?”

“Y/N, breathe, relax. You can’t break in anyways, the cameras will see you. And how are you supposed to open an unlocked door? You may have been watching Supernatural but your bobby pin skills are shit.”

“I can… I can just wait for him to exit his office and quickly get inside and and…”

“Who doesn’t lock their office while they’re out?”

“Even for a bathroom break?” you realize that you sound stupid but right now, you couldn’t allow that man to have that piece of work in his fucking email inbox.

“Let’s say he does. What will happen when you’re seen on camera?”

“Teacher offices don’t have cameras inside.”

“And the hallway one?”

“Do you think they actually pay attention to all of them?”

“I don’t know.”

“In that case… I will enter, delete what I have to delete fast and then get out and wait at the door for him. If someone actually checks the cameras, I can say that I wanted to talk with him and I didn’t find him inside so I left his office and waited.”

“You will enter his fucking office! And stay for like at least two minutes. It only takes a quick glance inside to see that he’s absent!” your friend’s arms raise in the air exasperatedly.

“I’ll just say that I stormed in without thinking and I knocked over something in his office and picked it up to put it back in place and then...”

“You’re stupid,” she finally concludes. “Do not do that,” she stands up and heads for the next class. “Coming?”

I look at her with pleading eyes and she shakes her head. “I’m not getting into this. And neither you are. Now be a good girl and go to your next class without causing trouble.”

You had two different courses from your friend, the optional ones which were split into two groups because of the large number of students who applied for them. Unfortunately, you were in the last group because of your last name’s first letter and your friend was in the first one. You considered it bad luck before, but now you were happy that you would be separated from your friend for 4 hours so you could get away with your idiotic plan.

“Ok,” you mutter and feign to have lost all the interest in whatever mission you planed.

“Good.”

Ok. Breathe. You can do this, somehow.

You lean on the wall, watching from the end of the hallway the door of Mr. Hiddleston's office. Classes already started so it means he has no courses for now. Perfect. It's near lunch break so he might actually get out to grab something while he still has free time. And indeed he does, only that he locks the door. You hide behind the corner as he turns around and heads for somewhere.

Maybe she was right… Who would leave their office door unlocked? Your concentration draws back to Mr. Hiddleston's gracious form entering back into his office, carrying some papers. Damn. This will be harder than you have expected. You really hoped that there's going to be an opening but two hours pass and you're still there. He leaves from the office two more times by the third hour, each time locking the door. When you almost give up, another door cracking sound gets your attention and your teacher leaves his office WITHOUT unlocking the door. Your mouth drops for a few seconds, then run to the room you have been watching. Your heart pounds like crazy when you get in and quickly head for his computer. You click on the Gmail icon and your chest stings. He is not logged in. Why??? A low groan escapes your throat and right at that moment the door flings open, displaying Mr. Hiddleston in full grace. Your eyes widen and hands start to tremble on the desk while he actually doesn’t seem that surprised by your presence.

“You’d better have an extraordinarily believable excuse for this situation Miss Y/N. Or this is going to get a lot worse than it already is.”

Your breath is caught in your throat, chest clenching in panic. You would find this exciting if you were living in your damn fanfiction, but this is real life and the chances of being expelled are now very high.

“I'm… I… Mr. Hiddleston,” your eyes are fixed on his strong gaze, burning holes into your flushed face.

“See Miss Y/N, you're not very subtle at spying someone. And I want to believe you're more than just a cheating student, which I actually doubt it since you have been ranked top of this course for quite some time.”

“I AM SO SORRY. I… I WAS WRITING SOMETHING ELSE DURING TODAY'S CLASS BECAUSE I READ ALL THE NOTES YOU GAVE, NOT JUST THE INTRODUCTION THAT YOU ASSIGNED SO I MADE THE BAD CHOICE TO CONTINUE WORKING ON THAT… SOMETHING ELSE BUT I PANICKED WHEN YOU SAW ME AND INSTEAD OF HOMEWORK I HAVE SENT YOU THE DOCUMENT I WAS WRITING AND IT IS VERY PERSONAL THEREFORE I WANTED TO DELETE IT BEFORE YOU COULD SEE IT!” your voice becomes higher and shaky as you speak.

“And why didn't you just send the correct file afterward?”

“I did but... I was afraid that you might still check the first one.”

Mr. Hiddleston scoffs, “What do you take me for? I have no interest in other than the essay I asked for.”

“I… knew… it.”

“But you still thought it was a good idea to sneak into my office?”

“Just in case you might accidentally…”

“Enough!” his stern voice startles you and you yelp.

“This is a very serious situation. However I do not have time to deal with it now,” his presence moves next to yours and you back up from the desk. He types something, the silence between you two killing you. He motions to move closer and you do so.

“Is this the wrong one?” he points.

You nod, afraid to make another sound which might upset him further. He presses the delete button and you would have enjoyed this accomplishment if it weren’t for the given situation. You want to melt into the ground.

“Now get out!” his tone was calmer this time although you can still sense the annoyance. With your head slightly bowed, you apologize again and storm out the door.

He couldn't just believe his eyes. You actually had the audacity to break into a teacher’s office. Was that wrong document even the real reason? Or was it a lie for some sabotage? His mind was going wild with scenarios, and he couldn't handle himself. Curiosity? At first, he might not have opened both files but after you have just risked getting expelled for some stupid document, he admits that it stirred some curiosity. But now he could cover it up with the fact that he has to make sure this whole situation happened truly because of that personal thing.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and seats on his leather chair, his hand involuntarily retrieving your email from the Bin Folder. He opens it and a single-page story pops out on the computer screen. He scans the writing and can’t figure what exactly that is. It’s a story for sure... with a teacher? At the end of the file, there’s a link and he almost has second thoughts but clicks on it anyways and a Tumblr page opens in his browser. What is he doing? He knows that this kind of site has, different things and here he is: a grown ass adult checking a student personal material. Now, he probably would have stopped if it weren’t for you breaking into his office, so he throws away any guilt and starts reading whatever popped on the site. And then his mouth drops. This is a written fantasy of yours with… a teacher. He shakes his head and closes his eyes for a moment. This is an actually pleasingly written piece of work, though it’s all, adult content. He shifts in his seat, already feeling a little bit turned on by the amazingly details given. However, he’s soon hard enough when he reads the description of the teacher and becomes aware of the similarities between him and the character…He shakes his head, maybe it’s just his imagination, but then, a specific comment catches his attention.

Tumblr user comment: This is so good! Can you tell us which celebrity do you portray as the teacher?

Your comment: Oh! I actually do not have one. I could say I am inspired by someone real /wink/, but can’t reveal more. I don’t want to get kicked out because I daydream of my teacher hahaha

Tumbler user comment: Omg, author has a hot teacher! Keep up with the good work!

You have been writing your sexual fantasies about him, during his own class. He is struck by your boldness and can’t admit this doesn’t thrill him. Of course, he is aware he has a specific presence, students might swoon over him and it was possible that some might even daydream about different scenarios. The fact that you are one of the most down to Earth and most talented students he has ever meet, has some stirring effect to his own self. He would have never imagined this kind of scandalous relationship even if he’s a college teacher for master degree courses and the given situation isn’t exactly illegal or forbidden. He always sees his students as just his students. He groans and closes the page quickly.

This won’t do it. Just erase everything you read from your  mind and act as if this never happened, Tom.

Taglist opened(please mention which one do you want): 

Loki/ Tom Hiddleston taglist: @drakesfiance , @cutiepotpie177 , @brokenthelovely , @ultrailoveharrystylesblog, @mooncrow123 , @heart-shaped-hell

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fic #loki fanfic #loki odinson #loki #loki laufeyson #loki fic #loki fanfiction #marvel

[wigglywormy]

insecure [kurt/blaine, 2k]

hey guys

so i haven’t written a fic since fucking 2018 and so im really rusty, but. my big great glee rewatch has pulled me out of my writing slump and i’m so ready to create some content again for this blog. i really missed this creative outlet and it feels really good to be writing again y’all

anyways, here’s a klaine fic based heavily on that episode in s5 of blaine being insecure about kurt’s new muscles lol

--

It starts a few months after he moves to New York. 

It’s amazing, for a while. Everything’s new, the sights and sounds are extravagant, and even though he has the absolute worst time falling asleep for the first few weeks with all the city noise and what-not, well. The fact that he gets to fall asleep at all in New York is enough in and of itself to cause him to drift to bed with a smile. 

Not to mention getting to fall asleep next to Kurt every night. Even better; getting to wake up to him every morning. 

There are ups and downs, of course. It’s definitely an adjustment, because there are so many different things he has to get used to in such a short period of time. Starting classes at NYADA, leaving his family and friends behind and moving to a whole new state, moving in with the love of his life and adjusting to life as a co-existing couple. It’s definitely tough, to say the least, but him and Kurt have been through way tougher. 

Besides, falling into a routine is simple for them. They are performers, after all, and a routine - whether it’s a spectacle of a show or a boring morning ritual - is something that comes natural to them. 

One thing Blaine does start to notice though, especially once the snow begins to melt away and Kurt is tucking his sweaters away in exchange for more form fitting clothes and short sleeved-shirts, is that Kurt has definitely filled out a bit. 

He looks a fair bit broader than he did in high school, and when Blaine walks in on him one morning to see Kurt doing push ups on the ground in front of their bed, he has to forcibly turn himself around and walk straight back out to the kitchen because the sight of Kurt’s newly noticeable biceps have him feeling a little too warm. 

Kurt also has this new and fresh confidence about him. Not to say he wasn’t confident in high school, because he was. He’s an incredible performer and he always had such a presence that Blaine admired, but this feels a bit different. It feels like Kurt is finally comfortable in his skin, and the glowing aura that now surrounds him has Blaine feeling gooey-eyed and simultaneously jealous because he also craves that feeling. Kurt’s found himself in New York. 

Blaine looks down at his own stomach, softer than he’d like it to be, and frowns. He lifts his chin, stares at himself in the mirror, and brings an arm up to flex a bit. There’s definitely muscle there, he can’t deny that, but it’s not nearly as defined at Kurt’s. Like seriously, Kurt’s arms are getting almost drool-worthy. Blaine swallows thickly just thinking about it. 

He will admit he hasn’t really been taking the best care of himself since he’s moved out here. It’s hard, okay? He’s so damn busy, the city moves so fast, and most of the time he’s lucky to barely have enough time to stop and get a hot dog off the corner of the street before his next class starts. 

And don’t even get him started on the cronuts. 

He sighs and presses his fingers into his stomach, not used to the slight give he has now. He wonders if Kurt has noticed? Does he care? They haven’t exactly been intimate in a while - due to busy schedules and, well, Blaine’s increasingly noticeable self esteem that’s dropping lower by the day. He wonders if Kurt is even still attracted to him. Blaine has seen the guys Kurt hangs out with at school. He sees how gorgeous and fit and tall they are.

Blaine scowls at himself. He’s never had a problem with his height before, but for some reason he’s noticing everything now. 

The door clicks shut, and soon the curtain to their room area is being yanked open, Kurt’s breathless voice filling the air, “Blaine, you won’t believe who I ran into today -  ”

Blaine quickly tugs his shirt back down and spins around to face Kurt, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. 

Kurt blinks, stepping a bit closer. His next words are spoken slowly. “What are you up to?”

“Uh - nothing. Just… checking out this new… shirt I bought?” Blaine winces, because he’s such a bad liar. Kurt knows this too, because he closes the curtain behind him and steps closer, close enough that Blaine can smell the scent of rain lingering on his clothes from his walk home today. 

“Blaine, that’s a pajama shirt you’ve had since high school.”

Blaine sighs. “I know.” 

“Still looks good on you though,” Kurt smirks, walking closer and wrapping his arms around Blaine’s waist. “I always liked this one. It hugs your waist in all the right places, y’know.”

Blaine runs his hands up Kurt’s arms, stopping once they get to his biceps, and shit, they really are big now, huh? Blaine squeezes gently, and his shuddering sigh makes Kurt laugh softly. 

“I think my new workout routine has been making a difference. What do you think?”

“Do you think I’m attractive?” Blaine blurts out, and he hates how weak his voice sounds. He didn’t mean to just come out and say it, but standing here with Kurt now, close and pressed together, all of his insecurities seem to be rearing their ugly heads right into his heart. 

Kurt steps back a bit, but not far enough away to break contact. His hands rest at Blaine’s waist, and his expression is one of disbelief. “Do I find you attractive?” He says slowly, and Blaine avoids eye contact as he nods. Kurt huffs out a breath. “Blaine, what brought this on? I don’t understand.”

“Look, I know I haven’t… been taking the best care of myself, lately,” Blaine says, voice soft. “It’s just - you are so attractive, like, even more so lately. Not to say you weren’t attractive before, of course, but - Kurt, your biceps, and - and your shoulders - ”

 “Blaine - ”

“And I just keep thinking, I can’t stop fucking thinking about how one day you’ll just - you’ll wake up, and you’ll think, ‘I don’t love him anymore’ and I don’t think I can deal with that - ”

“Blaine.”

Kurt’s hands are cupping his face now, and Blaine is stupidly aware of their two inch height difference right now as his eyes flicker up to meet Kurt’s. Blaine hadn’t even noticed how shaky his voice was getting, or how his eyes are now burning and shiny with moisture. 

“Stop it,” Kurt says, shaking his head. “I love you. That’s never going to change, no matter how much you or I change on the outside.”

“But - ”

“I love you. All of you. And I know you’re feeling insecure right now, I understand,” Kurt whispers, tipping their foreheads together. “But I need you to know that I think you’re the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Blaine flushes, and Kurt’s hands smooth up and down his sides, catching on the soft material of the shirt he’s wearing. Blaine shivers against the touch, because they really haven’t been intimate in a while, and Kurt’s hands feel really, really good on him. 

Especially when those fingers skid lighter, slipping beneath the cotton and trailing along bare skin, causing Blaine to suck in a breath and clutch at Kurt’s arms, swaying closer as Kurt smiles and kisses him deep. Kurt’s fingers have found solace in the dip of his waist, and Blaine grins against Kurt’s mouth, lips trembling. 

“Kurt.”

“Mm,” Kurt hums, “I will say these new and improved biceps of mine are definitely good for at least one thing.”

“What’s that?” Blaine asks. 

Kurt grins. “Holding you in place.”

Kurt wraps him up close with one arm, keeping Blaine nice and secure in his embrace, but before Blaine can even swoon at the strength enveloping him, Kurt’s free hand slips back under his shirt and presses into his side, causing Blaine to gasp and squirm. 

“Wait - Kurt!”

“You’re gorgeous,” Kurt murmurs, kissing Blaine again. Blaine giggles into his mouth, hands coming up to grip Kurt’s shoulders as the older male’s fingers walk up his side, scratching against his ribs. Blaine’s torn between trying to wiggle free and trying to press closer, because Kurt’s being wonderfully gentle and Blaine’s nerves are zinging alive from the ticklish touches. 

“I’m extremely lucky,” Kurt states, kissing down to Blaine’s neck, continuing to hold him tightly in place even as Blaine strains happily against him. “How did I manage to acquire a fiance who’s not only attractive, but who’s crazy adorable too?”

“Oh, jeez,” Blaine gasps, because the verbal praise is almost too much. Blaine’s not quite used to so much attention from Kurt like this, especially lately, and once again, Kurt’s newly found confidence is making his words come out sultry, smooth, and charming. Jesus, Kurt’s fucking charming him. 

Blaine feels like he did the first time they kissed at Dalton, all blushing faces and trembling hands, except this time it’s Kurt who’s taking the reins, and Blaine’s all too happy to let him. 

Kurt’s hand slips down to his stomach, and Blaine actually squeaks at that. Kurt laughs gently into his neck, kissing back up along his jaw before licking into his mouth once more, and Blaine makes a strangled little hiccuping laugh when Kurt brings both hands down to flutter against his stomach. 

“Kurt - stop,” Blaine laughs, but they both know he’s not really trying to get away. He stumbles over his own feet, but Kurt’s there to catch him, kissing him breathless once more. Blaine feels stupid, he should’ve never, ever doubted their relationship.Kurt is blunt and straightforward. He knows what he wants and he never settles for less. 

And Blaine knows now, that Kurt wants him. All of him. And he will always want him. 

Kurt walks them back towards the bed, and Blaine falls gracelessly upon it, caught by surprise as Kurt climbs after him. He has a glint in his eye, and Blaine bites his lips on a grin. He nearly turns to crawl away, the cat-and-mouse chase causing his blood to boil and his heart to race, and he’s pleased when Kurt tsk’s and tugs him back, pinning him to the bed and reaching down to pinch at his thigh. 

Blaine barks out a surprised laugh and kicks his leg a bit, because now Kurt’s just being mean. 

“I can’t help it,” Kurt laments as Blaine fruitlessly begs beneath him, his gelled hair now ruffled and askew, curls falling across his forehead. “I love your laugh. I love everything about you.”

“Y-You’re gonna kill me,” Blaine snorts, his shirt now bunched up around his ribs. “No - wait!”

Kurt’s already ducking down, biting and licking along his ribs and Blaine screeches. 

“Okay - okay, mercy! Please!” 

Kurt sighs, smoothing Blaine’s shirt back down. “Alright, since you asked so nicely.”

Blaine heaves a deep breath, his belly fluttering with residual giggles, and when he finally peeks his eyes open and looks up, Kurt’s gazing down at him with a look so warm, Blaine’s body melts on the spot. 

“Please don’t be so hard on yourself,” Kurt murmurs, cupping Blaine’s face in one hand and smoothing a thumb along his cheek. 

Blaine’s stomach swoops, his skin tingling from the inside out, and he leans up on his elbows, surging forward to kiss Kurt with as much emotion as he can muster. “I’ll try not to,” he mumbles against Kurt’s lips, “I’ll try.”

Kurt smiles then, sitting up and pulling Blaine up with him. “Good. Now, let me cook dinner for us, okay?”

“You need me to help?”

Kurt leans over, gripping Blaine’s neck and kissing his temple. “Don’t worry about it. You just sit here and look pretty, like you always do.”

Blaine just bites his lip on a smile, ducking his head. He really is the luckiest guy in the world.

#klaine #glee #worm writes #wow i havent used that hashtag in a while #tickling #tickle fic

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

All The Days Ahead, Chapter 10: Nothing Has Changed Me Quite Like You

Annnnnnd we’re finally here! This chapter concludes the story, not-at-all-coincidentally on @actuallylukedanes‘ birthday. Three years later is a totally reasonable timeframe for finishing a fic, right? <3 Hopefully it helps that it’s the longest chapter fic I’ve ever finished, and I wrote it just for you.

Mal x Simon, Firefly. Mal POV. Also on AO3. Ch 1-9 on my blog.

“What did you think of your wedding?” Mal asks, toying with Simon’s unbuttoned shirtsleeve. “Everything you hoped?”

The party after their wedding ceremony lasts all night, even though it’s just the nine of them on the ship, same as any other day. Jayne gets too drunk to walk and passes out near the stairs--also not so different from regular times, Mal thinks. 

Book toasts them but keeps his imbibing to a minimum; he does join River for a dance that is surprisingly lively. The teen is in cheerful spirits, chatting with Kaylee and twirling to music only she can hear after the others have settled down. 

Mal knows she had proper training in the Before, but still. Seeing her dance is really somethin.’  She teases Simon until he joins her in a complicated routine they must’ve learned in their central planet schooling, and Mal’s new husband is blushing furiously when he bows out at the end, to applause from everyone still awake.

Inara dances with everyone and drinks just enough to be festive, heading to her shuttle after congratulating them both. She seems distracted, but Mal doesn’t think she’s got clients scheduled when they land, so he couldn’t say why.

Wash set their course for New Melbourne before the ceremony started, putting Serenity on autopilot. He and Zoe excuse themselves a few hours into the party, claiming exhaustion. 

Mal suspects they’d just rather keep their own company, when it comes down to it, and he finally thinks he understands that particular frame of mind. He can’t wait to be grounded with Simon, starting their married life alone for a while. Though he dearly loves his crew, ain’t nothing like privacy from time to time.

The crew will be tending to a job on the other side of the planet, so Mal and Simon’s honeymoon will only be a week long--but that means seven secluded days in the fishing capital of the ‘verse, where Simon should be safe to show his face to get to their private visiting room.

Trading fresh foods will get them the nicest accommodations New Melbourne has to offer; Mal made sure of it. It should come with a view and the kind of finery he has little need for, but that he suspects Simon will appreciate. A touch of romance, class-ified and fancy.

It’s really the least he can do, when he and Simon couldn’t be tied the regular way. Mal doesn’t much care when he thinks of it, but he suspects Simon does--Simon was raised so different. 

He had lots of dreams, and none of them panned out exactly as planned. It must pain him a little that their marriage is on that list.

Wash and Zoe got married all legal-like and registered, so it was different for them. They got credits from the government to put towards a honeymoon, hails from acquaintances far and wide. Zoe took on Wash’s name. 

He and Simon don’t have the opportunity for any of those things...but being outside the Alliance system has its benefits, too. It means they get to make their own rules, and Mal has always enjoyed doing that.

Now, with Kaylee and Jayne sleeping on the deck and River curled up above them on the catwalk, Mal pulls Simon closer. They’re leaning on a stack of crates, Simon’s back resting against Mal’s chest, as Serenity’s hum brings them closer to their destination. 

“What did you think of your wedding?” Mal asks, toying with Simon’s unbuttoned shirtsleeve. “Everything you hoped?”

“All that and more,” Simon replies, kissing the hand that isn’t mussing his cuff. “Though I have to admit, none of my meticulous planning was prepared for the sight of Jayne Cobb drunkenly toasting to us ‘being healthful and rutting like rabbits’ before leading everyone in song and then passing out.”

“Yeah,” Mal agrees, grinning in the direction of the snoring man. “That one was a jolt to the system. But certainly memorable. Ain’t that what weddings are for? The memories?”

“I suppose.” Simon snuggles into him, enjoying the quiet. “River’s barefoot pirouettes are a memory I will definitely be holding onto.”

“She had a good night, didn’t she? Engaged herself in a lot less screaming. Didn’t interrupt the ceremony once.”

“Yes. It seemed to be a very good night.” 

Simon is quiet after that, but it don’t feel entirely comfortable. Mal wraps an arm around him. “What’s on that sharp-witted mind of yours?”

“I just hope that Book and Kaylee will keep a close eye on her. A week feels like a long time...we haven’t been apart since I got her out of the Academy.”

“I know.” Mal holds on firmly and waits to see if there’s more. 

“What if something happens while we’re off ship? What if she hurts someone, or she wanders onto New Melbourne? What if she gets hurt and I’m not here to fix it?”

What if I’m never able to fix it? Mal hears him asking under his actual words, and he presses a kiss to the curve of Simon’s shoulder. 

“This crew of ours, they’re scrappy. And your genius sister keeps things interesting, sure, but she’s just as capable of gettin’ herself out of trouble as in. If something happens, they’ll handle it. All together, ain’t no better crew flying--and I’m sure if real trouble comes looking, they’ll send us a wave.”

"You’re right.” Simon exhales, turning to face Mal. “I’ve been looking after her for so long.”

“And you’re good at it,” he assures him. “But a week where you can let all that go won’t make the planet stop turning. Might even be good for you both. I’m sure River feels the need for a little space now and then herself.”

“She does!” The teen calls from across the deck, making the captain laugh.

“See?” Mal does quick math in his head. “In about two hours, we’ll land on New Melbourne and get to be marrieds, all secluded-like.”

“I can’t wait.”

Simon kisses him, hands framing his face. Despite the snoring crew and his shiny new sister-in-law nearby, Mal lets himself sink into it. 

So much is different now, even just thinking back to the day they let passengers on at Eavesdown Docks. He never could’ve guessed then, that Simon would be the person to sway him to lettin’ his guard down. But somehow, they just make sense.

Mal, tied to his crew by history and scars and the need to stay free. Simon, tied to his sister by blood and tenderness and fear. 

The two of them are tied now at the center of it all, meant to be bonded forever. Til death parts them, whenever death comes. Death comes quick on the outskirts of civilization. Mal has managed to escape it more’n once, though--he expects a lot more years arguing with Simon across the supper table.

And for today, things are downright peaceable. Even happy. 

Mal long ago stopped looking for happy, when survival makes him content enough. It feels strange on him, like pants that are a little too tight. 

He’s looking forward to getting used to it.

#happy birthday leander!! #mal x simon #firefly #mal x simon fanfic #mal x simon fic #firefly fic #firefly fanfic #all the days ahead #my fic

[lostinthewiind]

Hey! I just discovered your blog and I love your writing! I was wondering if I could request something that starts out with jealousy and ends up super fluffy? I know it's a big cliche but that's exactly what I'm in the mood for atm. Thanks in advance :) Love x

There’s a reason why cliches are cliches - it’s because everyone loves them, including me!

I decided to minorly wound 2 birds with one stone for this one, so this fic is also for @higgles123 who requested some Chuck Grant. So, strap in everyone, and get ready for some jealous/fluffy Grant.

“I’m Not Jealous.”

You batted your eyelashes seductively as Bill Guarnere slid a beer glass along the bar toward you. Normally, you weren’t one to flirt with the men, but it was one of your last days in civilization before the company was being sent out again and you just wanted to have some fun.

And Bill Guarnere was always up for some fun.

The man from Philly loved it when you hung off of his arm and listened to him tell story after story. The two of you were good friends, but when the nights got late and the liquor started to flow, you become something just a little bit more. 

“So, anyway, I tell the guy that there’s no way he’s gonna get away with that shit.” Bill hooked his arm around your waist and pulled you closer. “So, I punched him out. Then, for good measure, I slashed his tires.”

Taking a sip of your frothy beer, you nodded along with the tale. Bill always had the best stories, but right then, you were more focused on his touch than his voice. You knew you could never go any further with the platoon leader, but in a way, that was made it fun. You could mess around all you wanted and never have to worry about following through.

The game between you was enjoyed by both parties. However, there was someone who didn’t take as much pleasure in the fake displays of affection, and that person was Chuck Grant.

The quieter Toccoa man was standing in the corner of the bar, his untouched, warm beer in his hand as he watched on with intense jealousy. Chuck didn’t like to admit that he was jealous when it came to you, but he was, and it was obvious. 

When Bill’s hand touched your body it made it blood boil. He knew the Philly man didn’t actually like you; he couldn’t, not with how he acted. If he really liked you, he would shut up every once in a while and let you talk, he would hold your hand instead of grabbing your ass, he would kiss you instead of licking his lips hungrily while he eyed you up like a juicy steak dinner.

Chuck would never do those things. He would let you talk, he would hold your hand, he would kiss you like you’ve never been kissed before. 

Your hearty laugh echoed through the bar and Chuck smiled. Your laugh was like music to his ears. The Easy Company man hadn’t the slightest idea how he had become so tangled in your web, but he was stuck nevertheless and there was nothing he could do about it.

You had no idea how Chuck really felt though. How could you? You barely spoke to him as it was, and when you did, he never let his feelings show. 

As Bill dove head first into another story from his time before the war, your eyes drifted over his broad shoulder and settled on a shadowed figure in the corner that seemed to be looking at you.

When your eyes met Chuck’s, he looked away frantically, the sudden motion making it obvious that he had indeed been staring. You felt a smile spread across your lips. It was nice to know that some of the men still looked at you like that; like you were still a woman.

When Chuck finally turned back to you, you nodded your head at him, motioning for him to come over. Chuck froze for a moment, but before he could silently check with you, you had gone back to listening to Bill.

For a few seconds, Chuck was sure he wouldn’t go over. He couldn’t. But then something inside of him snapped. It was like the floodgates of courage had opened, and just like that, he was walking in your direction with his beer in his hand.

When the man settled next to you, you turned and smiled at him once more. “Hello.” you greeted him, still half invested in Bill’s retelling of the time he had to chase a bunch of kids off of his family’s property. “How are you?”

“I-I’m fine.” Chuck answered, the words almost getting caught in his throat. “How are you?”

“I’m just peachy.” you looked down and noticed that his glass was still full but all the foam had dissipated. “Let’s get you a fresh drink, yeah?”

Chuck’s eyes drifted down to his old beer. “Yeah.” he agreed. 

Slapping your palm down on the bar, you waved the bartender over. As you ordered another drink for Chuck, Bill started to notice that you were losing interest in him. He didn’t like that. 

Bill’s fingertips pressed into your side, a nonverbal reminder to you that he was still there and still very much looking forward to the eventual heated make-out session that usually took place behind the bar after your evenings together.

Instead of turning back to him though, you swatted his hand away and handed the new, cold drink to Chuck. 

Chuck noticed the annoyance building in Bill and felt a small sense of pride in himself. For some reason, you wanted to spend time with him instead of Bill, which was something he never thought would happen.

“Thank you.” Chuck’s confidence built as Bill’s fell. 

“You are very welcome.” you turned your back to Bill. As fun as the loud-mouthed Platoon Sergeant was, you had ridden that ride before. Chuck Grant was new and shiny and you wanted to see how thrilling his rollercoaster was. “So, tell me about yourself. I feel like I know nothing about you.”

Chuck smiled. He very much liked that you were interested in him. Before long, he was deep in a story that you were intently listening to. Chuck’s stories were different than Bill’s; less young and dumb and more wholesome — more reminiscent of a life without war; a reminder that there was once a life without war and that there could be again.

Bill tried and failed a few more times to regain your attention, but after a while, he realized it was a lost cause and walked off. You didn’t notice him leave. You were too busy giggling along with Chuck as he finished off his drink and ended a joke. 

The night carried on, you and Chuck drinking and enjoying each other’s company. You gradually realized that you very much found delight in spending time with Chuck, but it became evident that he was a much sweeter man that you had taken him for. You had hoped that maybe his quiet demeanor hid a darker, more mysterious side, but you didn’t think it did. He hadn’t touched you once, not even a little brush of the hand.

What you didn’t know what that it was taking every ounce of restraint Chuck had to keep his hands to himself. He wanted nothing more than to touch you, but he didn’t want to come across like Bill; he didn’t want to be just a game to you.

A few minutes later, as Bill headed for the exit of the bar, he stopped next to you and brought his lips to your ear. “I’ll be out back taking a smoke for a few minutes if you care to join me.”

With that, he walked off. Chuck glared into Bill’s back as he sauntered away and out of the building. 

The offer was tempting but you weren’t sure if you should stay a while longer and give Chuck a little more time to warm up to you or not. Chuck watched as you slowly began to distance yourself. He was losing you and he knew it. You had given him a chance and he was blowing it. 

The thought of you sneaking off with Bill Guarnere made his fists clench and his teeth grit. Bill didn’t know how to treat you right. He did.

Making a split second decision that would either make it all or break it all, Chuck grabbed your face hard and kissed you. You were shocked, completely taken aback. You had never seen this coming from the good, kind man in front of you.

You didn’t worry for long though, because you melted into his touch in a matter of seconds. Your hands rested on his shoulders, your fingers clawing at his uniform. 

Chuck needed you to know how badly he wanted you, so he showed you. His tongue forced its way into your mouth and defeated yours for dominance. His mouth moved fast and rough against yours, drawing you in and making your head swim. 

When he finally pulled back, leaving your lips swollen and wanting more, he looked down at you and rubbed his thumb over your cheek. “You don’t need him,” he told you. “He doesn’t realize how special you are. I do.”

“Oh, Chuck.” your hands moved up his shoulders and onto his neck. “Why didn’t you just tell me sooner?”

“I should have.” he kissed you again, this time quick and loving. “I should have. But here I am now, telling you.”

You chuckled lowly. “Guess it just took a little jealousy to get it out of you, huh?”

“I’m not jealous.” he lied.

“Mhmm.” you captured his mouth in yours and nibbled on his bottom lip. “It’s okay if you are. I like it. It’s kinda hot.”

“Well, in that case, I’m insanely jealous.”

#band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers fanfiction #fluff #jealousy #chuck grant #chuck grant fluff #chuck grant x reader #reader insert #hbowar #lostinthewiind

[let-it-raines]

Second in Command (32/35)

Summary: Life as the “spare to the heir” isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be when you’re the supposed screw-up of the family, but people don’t know what really happens behind closed doors. 

Rating: Mature 

A\N: Hey look, I changed the title from epilogue to just being a chapter count. I was keeping it that way for consistency, but, you know, I felt ridiculous once we got to about part five of this so called epilogue. lol. Anyways, here’s a nice, long chapter full of all kinds of goodies (it’s another Christmas chapter, you say?) that I enjoyed writing. I hope you enjoy reading!

Out of curiosity (and maybe a little bit of a call for inspiration), what would you guys like to see out of their future since the last three chapters will be skipping around a bit?

AO3: Beginning | Current 

Tumblr Chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14| 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 |

Sequel Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

Tag list: @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @kmomof4 @wellhellotragic @ekr032-blog-blog @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @kristi555 @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @artistic-writer @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @alys07 @andiirivera @emmas-storybook @superchocovian @in-spirational  @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @shireness-says @jonirobinson64

The tree in their living room is Andy’s new favorite thing. He likes the lights, the way the multiple colors glisten off of each other and off of the baubles and ornaments that adorn the lush green branches that fill the room with the fresh scent of pine. They’ve got a Christmas tree in nearly every room of their house, at least downstairs, and if she had decorated more than just this one, she would have officially felt crazy. They had other people decorate since they had to host some diplomatic officials from Denmark last week, and Brennan wanted things to be, in his words, appropriately festive.

She’s got a kid who isn’t even three months old. She doesn’t need to be “appropriately festive” and hosting dinners in her home when there are several places they could host them that wouldn’t have her pulling her hair out every time a throw pillow got out of place.

Okay, so Killian is the one who got stressed about the throw pillows everywhere, but she pretty much felt stressed all of the time while people were moving trees in and furniture out, completely changing her house from what she’s accustomed to. Well, she wasn’t stressed all of the time. Just most of it. She likes the decorations, but she also knows that they’re going to have to go through all of this again when the holidays are over and it’s time to put the decorations and trimmings away until next year.

Maybe there won’t have to be as many decorations and maybe she won’t feel the need to pull her hair out as someone knocks over her favorite framed portrait of she, Killian, and Andy that was hanging on the living room wall above the lounge chairs where a Christmas tree is now resting.

And if she’s not pulling her hair out, Andy is definitely going to. He’s very much into grabbing her hair or her earrings whenever she’s holding him, and her hair has been permanently in a braid or bun for…awhile. She did have it blown out last week, though, letting Abigail mess with it when she brought the kids over for lunch, and it was kind of nice to walk around with bouncy curls and shiny hair that’s not been mangled by a kid. Not that she really minds wearing her hair up. She usually does that anyways. Andy has just changed a lot of things about how she and Killian operate in their day to day life.

Right now, though, he’s lying on his playmat on the floor doing his tummy time with toys hanging above him while she lays on the floor with him. He can lift his head but only for a little while, and when he does, he’s always looking at the tree or at her. Maybe she needs to take him around the house so he can look at all of the trees in the house so he’ll get that gummy smile on his face that he gets whenever she or Killian talk to him.

It may be the cutest thing that she’s ever seen in her entire life.  

She may be biased.

Maybe she just needs Killian to get home from work so that she has another adult to talk to today, especially since Abigail and Liam are working today hosting some kind of Christmas party in the gardens just outside her front door. Emma thought about going, but honestly, there’s far too many kids who will swarm around she and Andy for her to be comfortable with walking out to the gardens. Besides, how could a nice party like that with all of its food and goodies be better than lying on the floor of her house with a baby who has finally come around to liking spending time on his stomach…for a little while.

The fact that he’s not wailing right now is a miracle.

A Christmas miracle maybe.

It’s not even Christmas. It’s not even Christmas Eve, but it kind of feels like this has been the longest holiday season in the history of all of the holiday seasons she’s experienced. It’s definitely the kid. This time last year she wasn’t even pregnant, so it’s weird that she has Andy right here with her now.

She got pregnant sometime around this week last year, which is super weird to think about, but also kind of fascinating.

Like clockwork, he starts wailing the moment he’s on his mat for more than ten minutes (she knew that it was too good to be true for him to like it this much), and even though she hates it, she’s going to let him suffer for one more minute before she lets him up and sits with him while she watches TV and does some last minute Christmas shopping. She’s got all of Killian’s presents and her parents’ presents bought and wrapped under the tree, but it’s difficult to think of gag gifts for the entire family. She already knows she’s going to get several things about being a mom or pregnancy or talking about her kid too much (Killian is going to get something like that too), and she wishes that everyone else had something as easy to pick on in gift form.

Though she did find Liam a sticker for his car that cautions other drivers that a student driver is behind the wheel because of him backing into a tree last month. It’s not her best work, but she’s desperate. She has no idea how Killian has done this for his entire life, especially when he used to despise his family most of the time. Actually, that’s probably what helped him out.

If she wouldn’t actually insult Allison, she’d get her something about being an overbearing mother-in-law ever since Andy was born, but Emma doesn’t have a death wish, so that’s definitely not happening.

Maybe.

She might get really and truly desperate. She definitely shouldn’t get Allison something rude.

But she still thinks about it.

“Alright, baby,” she sighs, getting up from the floor and picking Andy up with her and holding him against her chest while she walks around the room in an attempt to get him to stop crying. It’s miserable when he’s miserable, and she’s honestly not sure if it upsets her because he’s upset or because his cries are piercing. All of the kids at the party hundreds of feet away can probably hear him. “See, we’re not doing it anymore today. We’re all finished, I promise. We’re just going to chill out, okay?”

She rubs her hand up and down his back in as soothing of a motion as she can, and his cries do eventually quiet, especially as she moves him to stand outside for a minute when Indy needs to go to the bathroom. It’s not too cold, the sun shining down on them, but he’s not dressed for staying outside so she quickly hurries Indy inside and moves back to the living room to turn the television onto something with bright colors and noises that he’ll like.

It’s days like this that make her ready to go back to work, but she’s not going to complain about getting this much time off, not when she knows how rare it is for a lot of moms back home...not that America has been her home recently, but sometimes it’s hard for her to shake it off that she’s technically British. And just because her body feels less like it’s been run over by a tank than it did last week, doesn’t mean that having to do too much after not sleeping is a great idea.

Plus, nursing is hard, and she and Andy have to take a nap every afternoon just for her to make it to eight o’clock at night.

It’s better when Killian’s around or when her mom comes over for a few hours, but they’ve both had to work every day this week before taking off for the holidays. She gets Killian and Andy all to herself tomorrow though, and she’s excited. She’s kind of thinking that she’ll get Killian to help her bake some goodies to give out to their staff to go along with their gifts. She’s gotten better at baking, can make really good pies, but Killian definitely has the better touch and actually knows how to make things look much nicer than she does.

Sometimes she swears that he could make those food videos online that she spends so much time watching, but she just knows that’s never going to happen.

The front door beeps as it opens, and she gets up from the couch, bringing Andy with her as she makes her way over to greet Killian before he goes searching for them in the house. She sees him first as he’s struggling to take his tie off, finally getting it only after strands of hair fall down on forehead with the effort. He must have really hated wearing that tie today. Then again, when does he ever like wearing one?

“Hey.”

He looks over toward her voice, his lips pressing together until they part and he smiles with his entire face, teeth on display and lines bunching up around his eyes.

“Hello, my loves,” he sighs, and her stomach does a little twitch at how happy he is to see them as he walks toward them, bending down to kiss her, his freshly trimmed scruff tickling her, before he brushes his lips over Andy’s head. “Have we been good today, Andy boy?”

“Eh,” she moans, handing him over to Killian as Andy is pretty much gob smacked to see his dad, “he’s been fine. Some good moments. Some bad. We just had a fit a few minutes ago so I’m hoping that things will be fine now.” “Ah,” Killian sighs, looking down at Andy and adjusting him in his arms before he looks back at her. “What about you? I’m sorry that I’ve barely been able to answer my phone.”

“Babe, it’s fine. We have lives outside of each other, and as much as I miss having an adult to talk to when everyone is busy, I like having time by myself even with my new practically permanent attachment.”

It’s true. Sometimes she craves the days of always being around other people, like she did a bit today, but she really does love getting to have time with just she and Andy. He doesn’t judge her if she sits on the couch and pigs out all day or talks to the television to tell characters how idiotic they’re being.

“I know. So good day?”

She nods. “Good day.”

-/-

“Do you grab the gray hat?”

“It’s in the bag.”

“What about the socks?”

“I’ve got several pairs in the bag.”

“His bear thing for when it’s cold?”

“The bag, darling.”

“Okay, but what about – ”

“Emma,” Killian sighs, walking over to her and cupping her cheeks with his hands while he looks down at her with his lips pressed into a thin line, “I have every single thing that we wrote down on the list plus more. And if we forget something, since I know that’s going to be your next question, we’ll simply go out and buy it.”

“I know, I know. I just…I just,” she mumbles, blinking her eyes a bit, “I’m terrified that we’re going to forget something vital. I mean, we’re going to be away from home for days. What if I forget food or something?”

He quirks an eyebrow, and she knows that she’s said something stupid even before he points it out. “Unless you can somehow manage to leave your breasts behind, I think we’ll be fine.”

“You know what I meant.”

He applies a little more pressure to her cheeks before he leans down and presses his lips against her forehead. She closes her eyes, savoring how it feels just to be close to him like this. “It’s going to be fine. We’re going to have a nice holiday full of good food and good company with lots of people who will want to love up on Andy. He will not be in want for anything.”

“Sometimes I really hate that you’re a rational person.”

“Aye,” he agrees, swiping under her eyes, “and sometimes I really hate how you make split decisions with your gut, but we usually balance each other out. Of course, right now you’re over planning to the extreme.”

“Listen, bud, you’re the one who’s been talking about this being his first Christmas and all that jazz, and I know for a fact that you over plan all of the time. I’m not being that bad.”

“You’re being pretty bad.”

“Yeah, okay, but when we get there with an entire train car full of things and you’ve forgotten your briefs, don’t come crying to me.”

“Oh, darling,” he croons, waggling his brows while he flashes her a cheeky grin, “I won’t mind and neither should you. It’ll give you easier access and all. There won’t be any almost disasters like last year when my mum almost caught us in one of the dens.”

Her cheeks heat just thinking of that, and she can do nothing more than shake her head back and forth. He’s so dumb sometimes, but he’s got her laughing when she’s been having this irrational (or maybe totally rational) fear of forgetting something while traveling with Andy for the first time.

“That one was totally your fault,” she laughs, stepping closer to him and wrapping her arms around his waist, simply wanting to hold him for a moment or two.

“It was,” he quietly admits, moving his arms to rest around her waist, hands falling to her ass. “You okay?”

She nods against his chest before she brushes her lips over his collarbone. “Fine. I’m a little tired, maybe a little bit stressed, and I’d feel better if we were already all settled in at Sandringham.”

“Soon,” he promises. “Soon.”

And it is soon. Andy miraculously sleeps throughout the entire train ride, the constant motion probably helping when she was convinced that it was going to keep him up and upset him with the rocking. He does wake up when they’re trying to settle inside, and it pretty much takes ten people to do the work she and Killian did to get everything on the train. But soon they’re swept up in greeting family, chatter and laughter filling one of the sitting rooms as they all fill up on tea and coffee while nearly every person comes over to her and asks if they can have Andy for a little while. She’s definitely okay letting other people have him while she’s in the same room. She can keep an eye on him while also not having to worry about anything but getting to drink her coffee and talk to Abigail and Rebecca while Brennan is holding Andy while he’s sitting on a sofa with Allison on the other side of the room.

Everything is a bit chaotic, but she kind of likes it that way right now. She likes the way she and Abigail can’t get through a conversation without laughing, Rebecca looking at them like they’re crazy, and she likes the way that she can hear Killian and Liam laughing even though they’re nowhere near them right now. She’s got this big crazy family who she loves despite how they treated her when they first met, and she goes to bed that night with her face aching from the smile that’s been there all day.

Christmas Eve is the same, even if the schedule is a bit more rigid than any other day. She’s got a long list of all of the ridiculous things and traditions that come with being in this family, but the amount of outfit changes she goes through on this day where they don’t even leave the house has got to be one of the most ridiculous. It’s nice that she can stay in jeans and a sweater for the first part of the day as they eat a late breakfast and head outside for the football match. She’s not playing this year, not quite feeling up to getting absolutely roughed up like what happens every year.

Seriously. Killian and Liam do not play nicely. She honestly thinks it might be worse since they’ve become close, but she was never exactly here to watch beforehand.

“Is Mummy going to win?”

“Maybe,” she shrugs, adjusting Andy in her lap as she talks to Alex and keeps Lizzie between her calves. She’s pretty much being trampled by kids, but she doesn’t mind since she’s the one who is choosing to sit today out because she’s tired. “Or maybe your daddy will win. They’re on different teams this year.” “Mummy is with Killian,” Lizzie tells her, leaning back until her head is resting right at Andy’s socked feet.

“Exactly.”

“And we’re with you.”

“Yep,” she laughs, reaching down to tug a little at Lizzie’s hair while Alex yells as Liam almost scores a goal, “you guys are on my team.”

Liam’s team wins, and she already knows that Killian is going to be in an absolute mood. He’ll go on and on about how Liam will have bragging rights for the entire year, and she’ll have to feign sympathy. Sure enough, Killian come jogging up to her afterward, the hair on his forehead sticking up in at least ten different directions while sweat beads at his temples.

“You know, I probably lost because you didn’t play this year.”

“Please,” she laughs, holding her hand up so he can help her rise from the ground, Andy secure in her arm, “youdefinitely lost because I didn’t play this year.” Killian scoffs, rolls his eyes a bit even, before his attention falls to Andy who is reaching his hands out for his dad. “You want to go see daddy, baby?” she coos, hanging him over to Killian. “He probably needs some comforting after his tough loss.”

“You’re so comforting.” “I know,” she promises, pressing up on her toes to brush her lips over his cheek. “Maybe next year you’ll win.”

“Maybe, but now I’ll have to deal with Liam bragging for an entire year.”

Yeah, she knew that’s exactly what he was going to say. It’s almost scary how well they know each other.

Or maybe she simply knows that her husband hates losing to his brother. If she had a sibling, she’d probably be the same way. Hell, she’s that way with Killian whenever they compete against each other when out at an engagement.

She’s only slightly sure that their relationship is normal.

“Happy Christmas,” Killian whispers into her skin the next morning, the way his lips are brushing against the nape of her neck making a shiver run down her spine and reach her toes.

“Mmm,” she hums, twisting over on the mattress so that her nose rubs against Killian’s and his eyes light up even in the darkness of the room. How is that even possible? “Merry Christmas.”

“It’s early,” he murmurs before his lips find hers, their mouths coming together in a soft and comforting kiss that seems to go on forever in the quietness of their room. She’d let it go on forever, let their lips constantly stay moving, constantly stay connected, but she does have to breathe at some point. That might be overrated as the happiness that seems to be an almost unceasing lately settles in her chest.

“So you say,” she says breathlessly, rubbing her nose into his cheek and allowing herself to find comfort in the way that their lips brush over each other every time one of them speak. “Why are we up?”

“Because it’s our first Christmas with our little love, and I figured you would want some private time with him to make some of our own traditions.”

She nods her head, Killian’s scruff brushing against her skin before she quickly and sweetly glides her lips of Killian’s again, giving him a long, deep kiss to thank him for knowing what she wants nearly every time, to thank him for helping to give her this family.

“So you want to go wake up the sleeping bear?”

“Aye.”

She rises from the bed, stretching her limbs out before adjusting the top of her pajamas, pulling her shirt up from where it had fallen as she slept, and even though she knows that she should get ready before they go to church this morning, all she really wants is to spend time with her baby. He’s awake in his bassinet when she finds him, his small body clothed in pajamas with cutely drawn snowmen covering them.

“Hi, sweetie,” she sighs, reaching down and picking him up when he reaches up for her, the smile on his face as bright when he recognizes him. “It’s Christmas, Andy. Yeah, we’ve got lots to do today, but mommy and daddy want to spend time with you after we’ve got you all changed.”

He’s surprisingly easy this morning, and she knows that it has nothing to do with the holiday. He has no idea that today is supposed to be something special. To him he’s simply in a new environment with different decorations than at home, and really, spending the morning opening presents for him and telling stories is more for she and Killian than for him. He won’t remember any of this, won’t remember how Killian practically packed an entire new library of books for him, won’t remember how she tells him the story about how on Christmas last year she and Killian decided that they wanted to expand their family so they could have him, and he won’t remember the way that the three of them sit on the ground next to a tree with all of their faces cast in different colored lights while he laughs in fascination over Emma sticking her tongue out only to make it disappear, making him scream out in giggles.

She’ll remember though.

She’ll remember it all, and with the way Killian is looking at her, fondness obvious in his gaze as his eyes never stray from his face, she knows that he will too. She also knows that she’ll remember the way something flutters inside of her while blush rises on her cheeks as she’s reminded once again just how loved she is now.

Just how loved she’ll always be.

-/-

There’s a line of dresses in front of her ordered by color and size. Some of them are seem simple, just plain chiffon dresses, while others sparkle and shine under the light of her bedroom. She’s been married to Killian for over two and a half years, has been having to wear these gowns for even longer than that, but she’ll still never quite get used to how people send her dresses whenever she has an event to go to.

She wore jeans to work pretty much every day of her life, and she definitely misses that sometimes.

But she’s apparently being overwhelmed with gowns right now since it’s her first official event back from maternity leave even though she’s not really going back to work until sometime in the spring. She’s done a few things here and there, but most of them have been family events like Christmas two weeks ago or Andy’s Christening back in November. So she hasn’t disappeared like most people assume (seriously, she stumbled across an article the other day saying her pregnancy was fake and that’s why she didn’t make a public appearance with Andy at the hospital and it’s how she managed to look so good at the Christening of her fake baby…this is what she gets for using Ruby’s snapchat and scrolling through the stories, but she does appreciate the fact that they thought she looked nice), but apparently it’s become some kind of big deal for her to show up in public.

She’s kind of thinking that people are just pissed that no one has managed to get any paparazzi pictures of Andy outside of his Christening. And they only released the one picture of him when he’s sitting with her, so she and her son are just mystery human beings, she guesses. But she doesn’t have any regrets. This is right for them, and she wouldn’t change anything.

She’s feeling a little overwhelmed by the dress selection in front of her, but she doesn’t have any regrets.

“What should Momma wear?” she asks Andy who’s on his playmat doing his tummy time. He actually likes it today, so she’s super thankful for that. He’s growing a lot, and what he likes and hates are definitely already changing. “Do you know, baby? I bet you’d like the ones that have flowers on them so you can pull at them, which probably means those are not the ones.”

“Are you talking to yourself, darling?”

She turns her head to the door of the bedroom where Killian’s standing with his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his face that makes her stomach twist. But in a good way. She didn’t even hear him come upstairs.

“I’m talking to sir Andrew over there. I like to think that he talks back.”

Killian barks out a laugh before walking toward her and coming to stand behind her, immediately wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on the top of her head. “One day he will, and his first word will be couture.”

“Do you practice that with him?”

Killian hums behind her, and she can feel the vibrations of it all the way down to her toes. Now would be a really good time for Andy to want to take a nap, and then for she and Killian to turn their phones off and have some private time. “I practice the words mummy and mama with him, mostly because I love you so damn much and talk about you all of the time.”

She scoffs before twisting in Killian’s arms and putting her hands on his chest, making him move a little bit as she studies his features, trying to figure out whatever the hell it is he’s trying to woo her with. “Did you do something?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. You’re a very sweet man, so it’s not out of the blue for you to try to butter me up with all of your pretty words, but I know for a fact that you would sell your limbs for Andy to say your name first. So why are you lying?”

“I’m not lying, darling. Andy and I really do talk about you all of the time. You’re our favorite subject.” She looks over to Andy, making sure he’s still where he’s supposed to be and not having some kind of meltdown, and she wishes she could somehow figure out what Killian is up to. It has to be something. “But I do have a little favor to ask of you.” “There it is,” she laughs, backing up from him only for Killian to slide his hands into the back pocket of her jeans and pull her back to him. “What ever could you need from me?”

He dips his head down and quickly slants his lips over his in the way that takes her breath away every time. And he knows that too. The man is a damn good kisser, and if she wasn’t so curious as to what he wants, she’d turn to, like, human jelly right then and there.

Now that would be something else.

“Goodness gracious, babe, just tell me.”

“Well, I was thinking.”

“That always goes so well.” “That joke never gets funnier, love.” “I think that it does.” “Anyways, I was thinking about all of these beautiful gowns that arrived for you today and how you’ve agreed to be my date for the prom.” “It is not the prom. We’re not teenagers in America.” “Yes, but I feel like I’m a teenager in love when I’m with you.”

“I will literally say yes to whatever you’re about to ask if you promise to never be that cheesy again.” “I can’t make that promise.” She slaps his chest and shakes her head, her gaze traveling between Killian and Andy. “Get on with it then.”

“So I’m thinking after we go to the BAFTAs,” Killian continues, palming her ass the slightest bit, “that instead of coming home to our lovable little munchkin, you and I go to a hotel. Or we can come here. But the point is, we don’t have a baby to come home to.” “What are you planning on doing with him?”

He’s not going to make the kid disappear or something far more nefarious, so she doesn’t even know why she asks.

“I’m planning on him staying with your parents for the night. They have a nursery for this purpose, love. And we just installed the new security system and fence for them.”

“You want me to leave him for an entire night?” He nods his head up and down at the same time that she feels tears forming in her eyes. Nope. She’s not going to cry. She’s not. Leaving him for an entire night doesn’t terrify her or anything.

It terrifies her a lot.

“Darling, it’ll be fine. It’s just a night, and if you want to wake up before the sun rises to go pick him up, we can. I will miss him just as much as you do, but we’ve got to graduate from the ‘just a few hours’ thing we’ve been doing. Plus, we can have a night together without a baby monitor sitting next to the bed.” “So you want to leave him so we can have this fancy date and then have sex? Because we can have this fancy date, come home and check on him, and then have sex.”

“Aye,” Killian laughs, backing them up to the bench in front of the bed and sitting down, pulling her down on top of him with a squeal, “we could, but I’m not even saying we have to have sex. You know as well as I do that neither of us are fans of planned sex, so that’s not what I’m suggesting. I’m just suggesting one night, just you and me, no baby. I don’t care what we do. We can sit in our pajamas and eat room service until we’re so bloated we can’t move all while talking about how we love the rolls on Andy’s arms. Maybe we immediately get there, strip out of our clothes, and make love like we did when we had just gotten together and your parents went out for the night and left us alone to have the entire apartment together. Or maybe,” Killian sighs, placing a kiss on both of her cheeks that makes her smile, “we simply get a full night of uninterrupted sleep.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Which one?” “All of them.”

“So you’ll consider letting me take you fifteen minutes away from him for less than twelve hours?”

She both wants to an doesn’t want to all at the same time. She knows that she should, that he’ll be fine without her, and she really does think that the night will be nice. They deserve to just be them every now and then. “Well, when you put it like that, I’d be ridiculous to say no.”

“Good,” Killian sighs, kissing her again before moving her off of his lap so he can pick Andy up from the floor and blow a raspberry on his stomach that makes Andy laugh like Killian’s just done the most hysterical thing in the world. “Did you hear that, little lad? Mummy has agreed to go on a date with daddy, and you’re going to spend the night with Mimi and Papa. Yeah, you are.”

“I could still change my mind.” “I expect that,” Killian admits, walking over to her with Andy in his arms. She reaches over and moves his hair off of his forehead. At the rate it’s growing, they’re going to have to get it cut before he’s even one unless it all starts to fall off like she’s read about, and she’s not ready to think about that. She’s just now thinking about spending the night away from him. “You should wear the emerald dress, darling. It’ll bring out your eyes, and I know you’ll look beautiful in it.” “How can you even see what it looks like from here?”

He shrugs as much as he can with Andy on him. “I looked through them when they first arrived.”

“Why?”

“I was curious, and I knew that you would spend far too long deciding even with the help of your assistant in training.”

She walks toward the rack of clothes and thumbs through them until she gets to the emerald dress Killian was talking about. It’s beautiful, they all are, but this one seems light and airy, like it will flow as she walks. It also looks like it’s going to dip down her entire chest and require some major taping so she doesn’t flash everyone with her breasts. She’s not even sure if she can wear this.

She kind of wants to wear this.

“You realize this shows my entire chest, right?”

“Aye, that’s why I like it.” “Such a man.”

“Never claimed to be otherwise, and you know that I have some very specific feelings about your breasts.”

She does end up picking the emerald dress and getting it altered. She really liked that way that it dipped down, and if she could get away with it without Brennan and Allison having a heart attack, she’d wear it just like that. Instead she gets some lace added to it, and as she’s zipped up into it the evening of the BAFTAs, she’s happy with the way it turned out.

For someone who has been walking around the house in leggings and a sweater with her hair falling out of a messy bun, she’s kind of excited to be this dressed up. She’s not a fan of the shoes she’s got to spend all night in, but for the first time since Andy was born, she feels a bit…she doesn’t really know how she feels. She feels put together, like she’s about to go out and have a nice night with her husband and not have to come home and deal with someone else’s bodily functions, which is exactly what she’s doing. She thought about backing out of Andy spending the night with her parents several times in the last few days, but she always convinced herself not to.

It was really hard.

She’s super obsessed with her child no matter how many days he makes her want to pull out her hair, and she doesn’t see that obsession tampering. She just doesn’t.

So tonight will be good. It’s a baby step, and she’s going to go on a date with Killian, even if her preferred date with Killian is sitting in their bed in comfortable clothes eating good food and having the television playing in the background all the while they’re hysterically tired and telling awful jokes that have their stomachs hurting from all of the laughter. It may be a bit boring, but she likes doing that with Killian. It’s how they got to know each other, and it’s them in every single way.

That’s what they’re going to do later. She’s about to rack up a hell of a room service bill and absolutely not care about the diet and exercise plan that she’s been on. She deserves it.

She wonders if they have macaroni and cheese. They better have macaroni and cheese. She did not eat nearly enough macaroni and cheese when she was pregnant. Killian kept the food in the house far too healthy, even if he would let her indulge in her wants of cherry pie and cupcakes. Or really just the icing. She’s pretty sure Killian kept a secret stash of icing somewhere in the apartment just for her.

He just wouldn’t tell her where.

It’s probably still somewhere. She and Andy are going to go on a hunt for that sometime soon while Killian is at work.

Her dress is far too tight for her to be thinking about all of this food.

“Hot damn,” Killian whistles, walking out of the bathroom and straightening his bow tie. Hot damn is right. So maybe there are some benefits to going out tonight outside of the macaroni and cheese. Her husband looking fucking attractive one of them. “I see one smoking hot mum.”

She feels the blush rise in her cheeks, her entire body heating, and she simply shakes her head back and forth, her earrings moving with it. That’s one of Killian’s new favorite things to say, and while she knows he probably picked up on it from Ruby, she doesn’t mind. “Thank you, babe. You look nice.”

He winks at her before stepping a little closer to her, the tips of their shoes touching while he runs his hands over her shoulders, the metal of his wedding ring cool against the heat of her skin. He leans down to press a kiss against her right shoulder, then her left, and her entire body tingles with the mixture of his lips and newly trimmed scruff against her skin. Okay, so this night is sounding better and better. Or at least feeling that way.

“Your mum is waiting downstairs with Andy so we can say goodbye, Thomas has already had our bags sent to the hotel, and all of Andy’s things are packed up and loaded into your mum’s car. You ready to go?”

She nods her head before they make their way downstairs. She has to hold her dress up a bit and hold onto Killian’s elbow as they walk down the steps, but when she’s finally down on flat ground, she feels a little more accustomed to walking in heels again. Plus, she can hear her mom talking to Andy in the sitting room next to the front door that’s pretty much where all of his toys downstairs tend to find their home when she and Killian decide to clean things up.

Imagining what it’s going to be like when he gets a bit older and can actually play with the toys by moving them around himself is terrifying. Killian might go insane.

No, Killian will go insane.

“Oh, look, Andrew,” her mom coos as she and Killian come into sight, and Emma tries not to laugh at how her mom nearly always calls Andy by his full name. She’s just thankful she doesn’t walk around calling him Prince Andrew Killian. Every time someone calls him by that name, she cringes a bit. She understands, but she cringes. He’s just Andy and sometimes Andrew if it slips off her tongue. “Mummy and daddy look so nice, yeah, they’re going to have a date, and you’re going to spend the night with Mimi.”

“Let me cuddle him for a minute, Mom,” she says, taking a step closer and taking Andy into her arms and cuddling him against her skin while he reaches for her earrings. “Be good for Mimi, baby. I know me saying this doesn’t help, but I can hope. Yeah, I can hope that you’re going to be a good boy.” She looks up at her mom all the while she runs her hand up and down Andy’s back, feeling the softness of his little sweater. It makes him look like a grown man, and she finds weird enjoyment in dressing a baby in similar clothes that Killian and her dad wear. He’s got this beanie and plaid shirt that match Killian’s, and it’s adorable. “You’ve got all his stuff? His milk, the warmer, clothes, diapers?” “I packed the bag, love,” Killian tells her, stepping up to her and placing his hand on the small of her back. “Everything is in there.” “Okay, okay,” she sighs, nodding her before kissing the crown of Andy’s head. “I love you, baby. So, so much. Mom, call if anything’s wrong or if you’re just overwhelmed. Or maybe just to tell me how he is. We can come at any time.” “Sweetie, I know how to take care of a baby. You two go have fun.” “We will,” Killian promises as he takes Andy out of her arms and hugs him for minute, whispering words in his ears that she can’t hear before handing him over to her mom.

God, this is going to be hard, but she can do this. Most moms have already done this. She can do this.

“Let’s go, love.” Killian puts his hand on the small of her back again and guides her out of the apartment, grabbing her clutch along the way.

After twenty minutes in the car, every single one of which she worries about leaving Andy overnight with her mom despite how much she wants this night, Thomas is pulling them up to the drop-off zone at the BAFTAs, and she is already blinded by the lights of the cameras. It’s almost like her eyes have become adjusted to the lack of photographers over the past few months, and she can’t quite get adjusted to it this quickly, especially when the sun has set.

“It’s just for a few minutes, love,” Killian promises, stepping out of the car and holding his hand out to help her out, her dress having to be kicked as she moves. “And then we’ll be inside and get to watch the show.” “Thank you.” She successfully gets out of the car, smoothing her dress out and doing a quick last minute adjustment to her dress and earrings before Thomas and Isabelle lead them along the carpet and through the crowds until they’re in the building. “I’m excited to be here even if I seem a little wary,” she promises later while they’re standing behind the doors that will lead them to their seats.

“I know,” he tells her, holding his arm out to offer her support before they walk down the stairs. “We’re going to have a nice night, Andy is going to be fine, and I’m going to consistently remind you of how absolutely beautiful you are.” “I like you when you’re sweet.” “So always?”

“Eh.”

It’s only a quick walk down the stairs, but she feels like she might as well be walking the stairs of a football stadium with how everyone is staring at her and standing. That’s something she’ll never quite get over. Truly. People stand for her when she doesn’t deserve it in the slightest. She understands that it’s tradition, that she’s part of a historic family, but to her, she feels like she should be standing for all of these actors and how absolutely obsessed she is with their work. But life is weird, and even with all of these oddities, she knows that she wouldn’t change anything to get to keep the people who matter most to her.

Not at all.

The show is great, and it speeds by, even during the slow moments. Killian keeps her entertained, whispering his own commentary during every presentation and all of the attempts at humor, even when several of the jokes are about the two of them. She’s heard much worse about herself, so a little friendly fire is nothing. She honestly kind of likes it. Who is she to not like a good bit of comedy?

Nearly every break that happens they have someone come up to speak to them, and she falls so easily back into her role of someone who can have a conversation with a brick wall and still attempt to make it interesting. But tonight actually is interesting, and she’s getting to meet people who have made her laugh and cry all while within the comfort of her own home whether that home be in Maine, an apartment above a pub, or in Kensington. By the time they’ve been there for hours, she can feel smile lines in her cheeks and an ache in her feet despite having been seated for most of the night. Mostly, though, she feels the way Killian’s thumb is moving over her knuckles in a soothing pattern for the entire night, and it brings her a comfort that no one else in the room could.

They bow out before the show is over, walking through dark hallways made of concrete to find their way out a back entrance so they can privately get in their car and be driven to their hotel where the exact same thing happens, Isabelle checking in for them while Thomas gets them up to their suite without running into other guests. She’s sure it was quite the ordeal planning that, that Thomas would have much rather they stayed at home, but she doesn’t think about it too much and she toes out of her heels and lets her feet sink into the plush carpeting of their room while Killian undoes his bowtie, unbuttoning a few buttons as he goes to expose the dark hair on his chest.

She steps over to him, her dress trailing on the floor around her legs as she moves, until she’s close enough that she can undo the buttons on his shirt, deftly flicking them open until she can see the way his stomach muscles move with each heavy, steadying breath that he takes. Her finger traces along the line of hair, and she feels him twitch, which only makes her smile to herself, a bit of giddy anticipation settling inside of her at how her touch electrifies him. It’s powerful to have that kind of effect on someone else, but she knows that it’s not just her. He does the same thing to her.

“So we’re skipping dinner then?” he breathes out, his voice hitching while she continues to press her nails into his skin, scratching and tracing around his nipples all the while her eyes stay trained on his skin, on the way that his collarbone is peeking out from under his shirt and jacket.

“Oh no,” she laughs, finally tilting her head up to look at him and the way his eyes have darkened since she last saw them, “we are definitely eating later. That was promised to me. I just want to do this first.”

“To work up an appetite, aye?”

“Aye,” she mimics, pressing up on her toes and wrapping her arms around his neck, hands in his hair, before she softly glides her lips over his in what is one of her most loved moves. His hand rests on the small of her back, the weight heavy and comfortable all at once while the fingers of his other hand thread through her hair, gently pushing her forward at the same time that his tongue flickers out to tease her. He’s unhurried in the way that he kisses her, just as she is with him, but it’s almost like there’s an urgency with the way that he caresses her with both his tongue and his hands. There should be no urgency. They have all night with no risk of interruptions, but with how frantic they have been lately, she understands that worry of having to be taken away from more pleasurable activities in order to be with their son.

“I need…I need to take off this dress.”

“I plan on getting there,” Killian murmurs against her lips before he tilts his head and trails his lips across her jaw, making the heat pool in her belly in that familiar, yet always thrilling way. “Was actually plan on getting there pretty soon.” He pulls back from her, the loss of heat instantaneous until his finger trails along the concave of her breasts, making her own breath hitch as she did to Killian earlier. “I’ve had a particularly nice view this entire evening, but I would so enjoy having a better one.”

“You could always just say you want to see my boobs. That is why you liked this dress after all.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” he questions, slowly dragging his fingers across her skin until he’s moving all of her hair over to one shoulder, kissing each inch of skin that’s now exposed. She hears the zipper move, feels the dress loosen so she can breathe, but mostly she feels Killian’s lips and his scruff as he adorns her skin with his caresses.

They’re an expert in this, have been for nearly a decade now, but they take their time undressing each other, laughing to themselves with she struggles to get the Spanx that’s been squeezing her stomach all night off in several movements that she knows cannot at all be attractive. Killian simply shakes his head, his lips stretched apart in a smile so wide that his eyes close and the lines around them crinkle, and she feels a similar one stretch across her own lips as she finally gets the material down around her feet. Such are the hazards of giving birth and then having to wear a tight dress.

Such are the hazards of simply being a woman and having to wear a tight dress.

Killian’s a bit more rushed with his pace after that, and while she can feel his headiness pressed against her thigh, warm and hard, he takes the time to kiss her, to move over her, and she’s practically squirming by the time his fingers trail through her folds while his breath ghosts over her hipbone and the stretch marks that reside there. She’d been so self-conscious about them for awhile, so worried about the way that they mark her skin, and while those feelings haven’t gone away, she tries to remind herself that she literally gave life. Those marks are nothing to be ashamed of.

And Killian has never once treated her differently because of them. She knows that’s what should happen, that he should never judge her for how her body changes, but she also knows that she’s one of the lucky ones.

In more ways than one.

He continues to tease her even as he moves back up her body, every touch setting her skin aflame in a way that she struggles to describe, to comprehend really, and she’s thankful when his mouth brushes against hers again so that she can cup his cheeks and hold him steady while her heart beats at a quick, steady rhythm within her chest.

Steady, she thinks. Killian is always steady. And yet he’s always thrilling, exciting, unexpected even when she knows his next move. He’s everything including flawed, especially including flawed, but she loves him. And they work. That’s all that really matters to her. They work.

After sinking into her, his heat encompassing her even more, he settles heavily within her, somehow weighing her down and lifting her up. It doesn’t matter if they’re frantic or slow, if they’re caring or harsh, because some things always stay the same. He always feels good inside of her, rocking within her and dragging skin against skin in a way that she knows makes both of them lose themselves for awhile.

It’s a good feeling.

Sweat beads at her forehead, likely causing her makeup to run, but she doesn’t really care, not with the way she craves this heat. Her nails trail along his back while her legs wrap around his waist and rest just above his ass as he leisurely drags himself inside of her all the while slanting his lips over hers in a warm slide. This is one of her favorite spots, favorite positions even with its frequency, and Killian always somehow manages to drive her into madness with the spots that he hits and the way he knows just what to do.

Being with someone for so long…it’s like nothing she ever would have expected it to be.

She whispers words of love and affection into his ear or against his lips, usually having to take a moment to catch her breath or to mutter a curse when he hits a particularly good spot or gets into a good rhythm while she matches her hips to his, and he does the same to her, his voice deep, husky, breathless against her skin. As the coil in her stomach tightens, every one of her senses dulled to the heady feel of Killian dragging within her, she almost cries out in pain before the pleasure reaches her. It’s not always something that reaches down to her toes, there’s not always those metaphorical fireworks, but tonight she feels a buzz across every inch of her skin while the love of her life drags his lips up and down her neck, his movements finally becoming frantic when he gets to feel the buzz too.

Once they’ve caught their breaths, she doesn’t want to move, just wants to stay with her cheek resting against the firmness of Killian’s chest, his heart beating a steady rhythm that reaffirms nothing and everything all at once. But she knows that she has to move, that at least one of them does if they want clean sheets tonight, and thankfully for her it’s Killian moving first, his lips brushing against the crown of her head before he moves and her cheek falls against a pillow. It’s comfortable, but it’s not quite the same.

By the time he comes back and sweetly cleans her up, she can feel her eyes fluttering closed, the business of the day catching up to her, but she also can feel a heaviness in her breasts, one she knows she can’t sleep with, so she does eventually get out of bed, going through their bags until she can find her breast pump. It’s a new normal, a normal she loves even with its inconveniences, and as Killian settles down next to her in bed, the muscles in his thighs obvious in her eyeline while he has one arm wrapped around her shoulder, his fingers playing with the tips of her hair as always, she thinks about how good all of these changes are.

“What do you want to eat, my love?” he asks as the machine makes this awful noise that happens nearly every time.

“Is it not too late for room service?”

“I’m sure they’re probably not expecting an order, but it does say it’s always available.”

She hums, closing her eyes for a moment, sleep calling her again almost as much as the food does, almost as much as her instinct to wonder what exactly it is that Andy is doing right now. Is he asleep? Did he eat using the bottle? Has he cried too much? Does he miss her? Can he sleep without she or Killian being there to soothe him? Does he even know that she’s gone?

“I miss him too, love,” Killian promises, and she wonders if she voiced her thoughts out loud or not, “but Dave texted me to let me know that all is good. He’s been fast asleep for hours.”

“Is he happy, do you think?”

“Of course he is.” When she feels Killian’s lips brush across her forehead, she has to close her eyes and take a deep breath in an attempt to keep the tears that are stinging behind her eyes from falling. It’s the strangest feeling in the world to struggle being apart from someone who can’t even speak yet, but she’s got this heaviness in the pit of her stomach about not being with him. She worries about something happening, about her not being there for it, and she knows that she needs to change her course of thought before she falls into the deepest of rabbit holes.

“He’s happy,” Killian insists again, “and I hope you are too. I love you.”

“I love you,” she whispers back as she rests her head on his shoulder. “What kind of food do they have?”

“Whatever your heart desires.”

She’s not even entirely sure what Killian orders, but she knows it’s all indulgent and probably too much for them. While they wait, she hangs up her gown, making sure not to mess it up for when she wants to wear it again, and begins the long process of removing her makeup and brushing through her hair, which is only more tangles now from the way Killian’s fingers tangled themselves in it and from the way sweat gathered at the nape of her neck. But eventually she’s makeup free with her hair in a simple braid, and she’s changed into pajamas that are possibly the softest thing in the world. She thought about not getting dressed, figuring that she and Killian won’t let this night be a one-time thing, but she really likes these shorts and top.

It’s a night full of indulgence, of letting themselves fall back into who they are when they’re not parents, and she absolutely stuffs her face with macaroni that’s far too fancy when she would literally eat it out of the box and with this cherry and chocolate cake that she really wants to take home with her. She might get to with the way that Killian has some of it on his cheek, the chocolate icing smeared right over the scar that resides there. She doesn’t know why, but it makes her lose herself in laughter, her stomach literally convulsing with happiness, and she’s pretty sure that it’s some kind of chain reaction thing as Killian laughs too.

His laugh is one of the good ones.

The clock ticks past three before they finally fall asleep, food put away and pajamas discarded just like she knew that they would be, and she can actually feel the smile on her face, happiness practically radiating off of her, and she dips into a slumber with the solid, steady rhythm of Killian’s heartbeat against her cheek.

It was a damn good date, one she’d like to repeat over and over again, but as they languidly get ready the next morning, enjoying the softness of the sheets and the pillows too much to get out of bed too early, she feels a bit of anxiousness wanting to be back with her child. Killian won’t admit to it, but she knows that he does too by the way his fingers fidget against her thigh and the way that he checks his phone to see if her parents have said anything else. So much earlier than they probably intended, they get Thomas to guide them out of the hotel and drive them to her parents’ house.

He’s waiting for her in his swing in the living room when she walks in the room, and her heart absolutely lifts or resettles or does something insane when he smiles up at her, recognition in his light blue eyes that she’s decided are going to stay that way forever.

“Hey, little man,” she sighs, a giggle escaping her as she smatters kisses across his face, relief settling over her that he’s just the same as he was when she left him. “I missed you so much.”

She holds onto him tightly, checking all of his features, before handing him to Killian because she knows that he needs the comfort too. She can see it in his eyes, the way they flutter closed when Andy is first in his arms, and she continues to feel the same way that that she has all night.

Happy.

“You ready to go home?”

“Yeah,” Killian sighs, smiling down at her before he dips his head to quickly glide his lips over hers all the while Andy squeals in his arms, “I am.”

#second in command #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic