#and today i told him exactly these words above ^^^ and he agreed

[apollos-olives]

i'm tired of being treated like my existence is a debate

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 55 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley can't get enough of the adrenaline rush that is accompanying his special mission, but he has reached the point where the excitement doesn't outweigh his desire to return home. Every day feels the same for you, until one of them starts to feel much worse.

Warnings: mentions of blood, pregnancy topics, potential pregnancy complications, swearing, angst, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4300 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Every day was the same now. Every morning started out with a hopeful feeling in your chest. Your engagement ring was still noticeable on your finger, although you figured that would fade with time as it became a permanent fixture. At first, you woke up to the delicious feeling of being pregnant and engaged to Bradley, but when you rolled over to reach for him, the rest of the bed was cold. The covers were untouched. His pillow was still in the exact same place you left it when you made the bed yesterday.

Tears stung at your eyes. You knew exactly how many days he had been gone, because the updated number was practically all you could think about. The days had become a week. Then two. And now that hopeful feeling was starting to vanish only to be replaced by dread almost immediately after you cracked your eyes open.

You whispered, "I miss you," and climbed out of bed without even looking at the vacant side now. You started to dress in your scrubs without a smile on your face, and then you went into the bathroom which was completely silent. You thought that if you just had an inkling, the barest idea of when Bradley might be returning, you'd feel much better, but you had no clue.

You and Noah had only had one brief conversation with him over the phone. The connection had been pretty bad, and you knew someone was sitting right there with him monitoring every single word. He'd told you that much before his personal phone had been taken away from him the day he arrived. You had to pause as you put toothpaste on your toothbrush, because the tears were going to start if you didn't get yourself under control. 

Bradley had hung up a few post-it notes around the house for you and Noah to find. Most of them were reminders of how much he loved you, but the one on the bathroom mirror took your breath away every time you saw it. It said April 25th with a heart around it. And above that'd, he'd drawn a crown. The fact that you had no idea how much of your pregnancy he was going to miss threw you off every single time. You ran your fingers over the note, but you didn't move it.

"Mommy?" Noah called out, and you heard him jump down from his bed. It was so obvious how much he missed his dad; he was extra clingy with you right now, even shedding a few tears now when you tried to drop him off before you went to work each day.

"I'm in the bathroom," you called out as best you could with your toothbrush still in your mouth. You opened the door so he could come in with you, and he immediately wrapped his arms around your thigh.

"Is it daycare today?"

You spit out the toothpaste and rinsed your mouth. "Yes, Sweet Noah. You have daycare today."

"I want to go to the park with you and Daddy."

That sounded so perfect, you wanted to scream. "As soon as Daddy comes home, we can all spend a whole day at the park. But not today." You didn't even want to tell him that you had to work an extra hour and a half and as a result would be picking him up later than usual. You agreed to cover some extra shifts all week long even though you were tired enough that you'd been passing out in bed right after Noah went to sleep each night. 

When he sniffed and looked up at you with watery eyes, you could barely handle it. Bradley had been gone for less than three weeks, but you were already getting a little desperate. You knew you would feel like a failure if you reached out for help at this point, even though Natasha and Penny had both been texting with you to check in. Bradley even had Tracy emailing you in case you needed anything, and you couldn't decide whether you had to make more friends to get him off your back or simply be appreciative that he cared enough to set things up.

"I know," you whispered to Noah, running your fingers through his soft curls. "But we can make ants on logs later. And we can take Skittles for a nice walk." When you said her name, the pup appeared in the bathroom doorway, her brown eyes also a little sad without her favorite person at home.

"I'm hungry," Noah murmured against your scrub pants. You bent to scoop him up into your arms and carried him to the kitchen where you got breakfast ready for everyone. It was going to be a long day for you, and you'd been so wrapped up in your feelings, you almost forgot you were going to have to see Casey. 

You groaned at the thought of her, and you immediately lost your appetite and scraped your eggs into the dish on the floor for Skittles to enjoy. After you packed yourself a lunch and got Noah ready, you realized you were kind of running late. Everything felt ten times harder when you had to do it all yourself. 

"I don't know how Bradley managed," you whispered as you zipped down the block in your car. A soft smile played at your lips as you thought back to how adorably hopeless he had been when you first met him. He hadn't eaten a good meal in probably months before you started babysitting Noah for him. At least he could cook a little bit now, even if he still couldn't figure out how to use his phone. 

When you took Noah inside his daycare, Casey's eyes were immediately glued to your ring as it shone in the sunlight. She slid the clipboard to you and watched you sign Noah in while you held his hand. Then you knelt down and kissed his cheek and whispered, "I'll pick you up later. I love you."

He smiled, and then you let Casey walk him inside. You stood there long enough to make sure he started to hang up his bag like you always did, and when she walked back out into the lobby, she was smirking. "Did Bradley leave you? He hasn't been here in weeks."

You rolled your eyes as you said, "He's deployed. We've been over this before."

She held up her hands in mock surrender. "I'm just saying, it kind of looks like he left you and Noah in the dust."

"In what world would that man leave Noah?" you practically shouted. 

"That's true," she replied with a smile. "Bradley would never leave his adorable son, but I could see him ditching you and your make believe baby."

You rubbed your temples and took your phone out of your pocket to check the time. You'd barely make it to work before the first patient if you didn't leave right now, but you couldn't help yourself. "I'm done, Casey. I've had enough. Which of the owners is here today? Because I'm not going to listen to you talk to me like this for one more minute."

Her face went ghostly white and she muttered something that you couldn't quite make out. "Speak up," you snapped. "Or apologize to me and don't bother talking to me again unless it's completely necessary."

"Sorry."

"Great," you told her loudly. "Have a great day, and when I pick Noah up later, just keep your mouth shut."

You took in the stupid looking expression on her face before you turned to leave, storming out the door and across the parking lot to your car.

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

It didn't take Bradley long to get used to the sleek controls and seductive design of the sixth-generation fighter jet that everyone appropriately referred to as Shadowhawk. By the second morning on base in Yokosuka, Admiral Palmer was singing Bradley's praises. He showed up early and did as he was told, hoping to spend as much time in the air as he could each day.

It was an adrenaline rush every single time. He was going substantially faster than he ever did in a Super Hornet, and all of his readouts were being recorded. He had to pass a quick physical and stress test every morning before he was allowed to fly, and then he was hooked up to monitoring equipment and let loose. He and Shadowhawk were flying the same loop far out over the pacific ocean at insanely high altitudes, and each time he fell a little bit more in love with being in the air. He could maneuver through rolls and dive into an attack formation faster than he could even imagine. 

When he was flying, it was easy enough to focus on the task at hand. He knew if he wasn't one hundred percent focused, it would be dangerous. He might not snuff out the launched missile in time with his flares or his guns. He might lose sight of his targets. But as soon as he had any sort of mental reprieve, he was thinking about you and Noah and Skittles and his bungalow tucked away on a side street in Coronado.

"Fuck," he muttered as he unloaded from Shadowhawk one day just as the sun was setting. He was drenched in sweat and exhausted, and all he could think about was taking a shower with you before dragging himself off to his king size bed that always smelled like wildflowers and falling asleep in your arms. He let the peripheral staff detach all of the cables and heart monitor from his flight suit before he found an officer who spoke English. "Is there time for me to make a phone call tonight?" he asked. 

It was about three o'clock in the morning in California, and he knew he wouldn't be able to talk to Noah, but he was dying to hear your voice. He knew he'd wake you up, but the ache was so strong, he absolutely needed to if he could. He'd been allowed to make exactly one call so far, and that was already more than two weeks ago.

All he got in response to his question was a quick shake of his head. "Tomorrow," she responded. That's what they told him every day. The lack of communication felt like a prison sentence at times, but there wasn't much he could do but accept it. All of the data they were collecting as well as Shadowhawk itself were considered proprietary and top secret. He practically had to sign his life away every day before he was allowed to touch the thing.

"Tomorrow," he repeated. "But will it actually be tomorrow? Or does that mean a week from now?"

"Tomorrow," she said more firmly, and he thanked her quietly before heading up to the tower to debrief with the admirals. There wasn't much else he could do.

The next day was a lot more of the same, and the routine was starting to grate on his nerves now. The aircraft still felt incredible, beyond his wildest dreams. He was still happy to be here, but at the same time, he was ready to go home now. They weren't giving him any updates on the progress of this assignment or when it might end, so he just decided to approach Admiral Palmer directly.

"Sir, I'd really appreciate a ten minute phone call, if that can be arranged." Once again, it was the middle of the night for you, but Bradley needed it.

The older man eyed him closely and cleared his throat. "It's a liability, Lieutenant. I'm sure you can understand that."

Bradley felt his fingers flex into fists at his sides. "Sir, someone would be monitoring me the entire time. And I'm just asking to talk to my fiancée and my son. That's it. Any time of any day."

The answer of, "There's no guarantee," did not sit well with Bradley. He had to bite his lip until he was tasting blood to keep himself from talking out of order, but he was sure the other man could read the frustration on his face and in his posture. "Maybe a very brief call, but we could be wrapping up our preliminary testing on Shadowhawk any day now. Either way, I'm sure you'll be able to finish out this temporary assignment like a professional."

Bradley swallowed down every retort that came to his mind, saluted Admiral Palmer, and left for his tiny room in the barracks. But another week passed, and Bradley knew there was no end in sight. And perhaps no phone call either. 

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

"Is this normal though?" you asked Natasha over the phone one night after Noah was in bed. You'd thought about taking a long bath, but you were so tired from working late almost every day, you could barely hold yourself up. You were already in bed at 8:45 with your phone pressed to your ear. "I haven't heard from Bradley in almost a month."

The words made a lump form in your throat. It was actually twenty-two and a half days since he'd called. You needed to hear his voice. Noah was asking for him nonstop, and he had missed your most recent checkup with your obstetrician. The whole thing had been such a blur during your lunch break without him there, and you wanted to show him the new ultrasounds.

"Well, I don't think this assignment is exactly normal, you know?" she replied. "On a regular deployment, you'd be able to talk to him almost weekly. But this is something else altogether."

You made a soft sound. There had to be a way to make the time pass faster. If you didn't have to get Noah by six o'clock every day, you would try to pick up more hours at work. Maybe this weekend you could start cleaning up the extra bedroom that you and Bradley decided would become the nursery. You already promised Noah that you'd take him shopping for a Halloween costume, so at least that would entertain him for a little while. 

"Thanks, Natasha," you murmured to Bradley's best friend.

"Hey, if you need a little break this weekend, I'd be more than happy to come over and play with Noah on Saturday or Sunday," she said, and you sighed in relief.

"That actually sounds fantastic. I'll call you."

You ended the call a minute later, curling up in a ball of exhaustion as you tried to imagine where Bradley was and what he was doing. You were tired now as you tried to do the math to determine what time it was in Japan. Was he sixteen hours ahead of you? Something like that? You yawned and fell asleep with your phone on the pillow next to your head.

Then you heard your ringtone blaring in your ear, and you almost fell out of the bed as you realized your phone was so close to you. RESTRICTED CALLER. "Oh my god," you gasped, trying to answer the call while you saw that your battery was down to four percent because you never plugged it in. "Bradley?!"

"Princess."

"Bradley!" You climbed out of bed, your body immediately shivering as you were exposed to the cool air. Your nerves were frayed as you plugged your phone in and asked, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Baby. I'm so sorry I woke you up."

"It's okay!" you said, your voice sounding more like a sob as you sat on the floor. "I've been so worried about you."

His voice was a deep, familiar rumble as he said, "I've got five minutes. Tell me everything."

"We miss you, Daddy," you said, rubbing your hand low on your belly which was starting to feel a little tender as you got closer to thirteen weeks along. "Noah asks for you all the time. The baby looked good at the last appointment. But your best friend, Skittles, is barely holding it together."

"I missed your appointment," he said, his voice strained with emotion. "I should have been there."

"It's okay," you whispered. "We're doing okay." But you weren't. You and Noah thrived when you had his attention. You felt loved when he was home to hold you and whisper plans about the future until you fell asleep each night. "I just thought you'd be able to call more often."

"Me too," he said in a tone that sounded both annoyed and resigned.

"Do you know when you'll be home?" you asked in as hopeful a voice as you could manage.

"Soon, Princess. Soon. Now tell me everything about your appointment."

You gave him more details as you shifted around on the floor, and you told him that Noah painted a picture for him. Then you heard someone on his end of the call telling him that it was time to go, and you wanted to scream that it wasn't enough. But instead you let the tears fall down your cheeks, thankful that you at least knew he was safe. 

"I love you, Bradley."

"I love you too, Princess. I'll be home before you know it."

You dried your tears and climbed back into bed, and even though you weren't able to fall asleep again, you felt so much better. Your imagination drifted to thoughts of the baby in the nursery, all of you curled up on the floor for story time together. You would start getting the room ready this weekend.

On Saturday, you took Noah to the Halloween warehouse store that seemed to pop up overnight. "You have to hold my hand," you reminded him as he reached for every single display in the crowded store. There were so many aisles, this would probably take up your entire morning with him. He was keeping a running list of options that he liked for trick-or-treating, and you had to keep reminding yourself not to check the price tags. You'd put whatever he wanted on your princess credit card and call it a day.

"Mommy, let's all be dinosaurs," he said, pointing to a costume in his size. 

You glanced around the area and said, "They don't have any in my size. Can we pick something else?"

"I want you and Daddy to dress up, too," he whined, and you didn't want to have to tell him that you weren't sure if Bradley would be home in the next week and a half to accommodate that wish. 

"Well, I will definitely dress up with you, okay? Let's pick something out where you and I can match."

But he wasn't going to be deterred. He was demanding that all three of you match along with Skittles. You walked around the entire store twice before you found an option that he agreed upon, and you were smiling as you gathered the costumes in all of the necessary sizes. "This is perfect, Sweet Noah," you said as you looked at the costume for Bradley and laughed. You just hoped he would be back in time to wear it. If not, maybe you could ask Maverick. 

The sky was starting to look overcast, so you took Noah home for lunch and didn't feel too bad about keeping him inside for the afternoon, especially when it started raining. You set him up with his array of coloring books at the kitchen table and then went to investigate the extra bedroom. Nobody ever slept in there, so it was a bit dusty. There was basically no furniture besides the bed and an old desk, but it was cozy and perfect for what you had planned. 

Your muscles were sore from standing at work, and you were so tired, but you started moving the bed anyway. You'd have to tell Dr. Kelly and the others that you were pregnant soon. It was time now, but you kept putting it off, enjoying the secret that only you and Bradley really knew about. Plus it still got under your skin a little bit when you considered that other people would have a knee jerk reaction to the timeframe of when you got engaged compared to when you got pregnant. 

"It's none of their business," you whispered to yourself as you walked to the kitchen to check on Noah every few minutes. Then you went back to the bedroom and cleaned, moved things around and took measurements. "How big are cribs, anyway?" you mused before looking up some dimensions online. "Pretty big." 

It took some creativity, but you thought you'd finally sorted out where everything should go. Then you moved Bradley's random junk from the closet to the attic, wiping the sweat from your face with each trip. You kicked your way through the boxes where you'd found the USB drive with the video he made with Meredith. At first you grimaced and thought you might cry, but then you remembered the way he had smashed the stupid thing to bits in the backyard. You wanted him to come home. You needed him to. 

"Mommy?" Noah called out, luring you back into the kitchen. You were a mess, and when you noticed how much he was yawning, you silently rejoiced. 

"It looks like you could use a nap," you said as you kissed the curls on top of his head. He scrambled up into your arms and hugged you, such a tiny reminder of his dad, and you carried him off to his room. After a few stories, he was asleep as the rain picked up a little bit, and you knew this would be the perfect time to take a shower.

You moved Skittles' bed into Noah's room temporarily, and coaxed her in with a treat. "Keep him company in case he wakes up," you whispered, and she walked around in a circle on the plush cushion before settling in. Her crooked, purple bow made you smile. Everything in this house made you smile and think about Bradley. You knew he'd have even more ideas about a theme for the nursery, but you started to scroll through some inspiration online as the shower warmed up for you.

The water ended up feeling better than you anticipated. Your shoulders were sore. Your hips were sore. Every part of your body was aching. It seemed it didn't matter how much you were sleeping, you were still exhausted all day long. Maybe Dr. Kelly would reduce your hours and give you a break. You thought about sneaking home one afternoon a week to take a long nap before going back out to pick Noah up. Then you thought about how Casey hadn't said a single word to you since you told her you were going to her boss. Then you smiled. 

You were squeaky clean when you got dressed again in some old sweats and headed to the kitchen. Your stomach was growling, and you desperately wanted some coffee. "One cup is okay," you whispered, turning on Bradley's fancy machine while you made yourself a snack. You'd been meticulous about how much caffeine you were drinking, and Bradley helped by bringing home only decaf from the coffee shop. You downed the cup, and it was hot and delicious, and almost immediately you had to pee again. 

Your doctor told you that was normal as the baby grew and started to stretch things out. You passed Noah's bedroom door where both he and Skittles were still sound asleep as the rain splattered against his window, and then you went to the bathroom. When you wiped, the toilet paper caught your eye, and your hand started to shake. Pink. Blood. Just a little bit, but there was blood. 

"Oh no," you gasped, a dizzy spell overtaking your body. You'd read about this in your textbooks, and you knew it could happen, but you'd blocked it out of your mind when it came to yourself right now. You didn't want to be an example. You had to grip the toilet seat with one hand to keep steady as you wiped yourself again. There was more blood, a little bit less pink and more red this time. 

Your own breathing was too loud. It was echoing through your mind and through the bathroom, and you wanted to throw up. You eased yourself onto the floor and started to panic. The baby. What if something was happening to the baby? "No," you whispered, trying to ground yourself. Using the edge of the tub, you pulled yourself slowly to your feet, your head spinning more with every inch you moved. "No," you said louder. 

When you were standing on your own, you had yourself almost convinced you'd imagined it. You didn't feel bad. You were just a little sore. There couldn't be anything wrong. You reached for another piece of toilet paper and wiped, but the result was the same. 

Where was your phone? Who were you supposed to call? You walked around in circles around the house while your heart thudded a sickening rhythm in your chest. You paused, unable to locate your phone and convinced you were going to throw up. After you backtracked to the extra bedroom, you found it and unlocked it.

Natasha's name was right there in your recent calls, and you tapped on it before you could even fathom what you were going to tell her. 

"Hi," she said brightly when she eventually answered. "Want me to come over and play with Noah so you can take a break for a little bit?"

"Please," you gasped. "Please come over. Right now."

She must have sensed something in your voice, because hers turned serious as she assured you she was on her way. While you waited for her, you wiped yourself again and again before you made yourself wait in the living room instead of the bathroom. When she walked inside with dripping wet hair and concern on her face, you said, "Noah is still napping. I need to take myself to the emergency room."

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

Get to the hospital, Princess. This kind of scenario is very real and has happened to me. I will tread as carefully as I can. Please don't scream at me. We will hear from a doctor in the next chapter. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 56

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[1000roughdrafts]

Just Another Day

Summary: Fluffy Dean x female!reader Valentine's Day post

Warnings: some language (like 2-3 words), light mentions of angst, but mostly fluff

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Not betad, all mistakes are my own 😊 and bear with me, I’m a little rusty 🥰 happy love day 🥰

Valentine's Day has never really been a favorite of mine, let alone anything I'd consider more than 'just a day'. Hell, Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years, even birthdays are all just 'another day' for me. It's kind of difficult not to harbor ill feelings about them after constantly being let down by the people in my life, one broken promise after another.

Dean and Sam have kept every promise they've made, though. In fact, they're managing to break down my walls bit by bit from stolen candy on Halloween to a fried chicken meal with beer on Thanksgiving all while living in cheap motels chasing monsters. When I told them this morning that I just wanted to hunt as usual for the day, I couldn't help but to feel a tad disappointed that they agreed. Bit by bit, I'm breaking my own rules about not getting my hopes up on holidays.

This is our first Valentine's Day as a couple, and I've known Dean long enough to know that chocolate and flowers aren't exactly his style. But I can count on him to bring me a piece of pie "just because" or he'll clean my weapons for me after a particularly grueling hunt because he knows all I want to do is shower and get in bed.

After a long day of exorcising demons, we are on the road again. Burnin' For You by Blue Oyster Cult plays low on the radio, but the clattering of rain on the roof has my full attention. Sam loudly rifles through the papers in his lap with one hand, flashlight held in the other, hesitant to ever let himself relax. Dean's eyes flicker between the road and the rear-view mirror to periodically check on me.

"Hey, you seem off today, you okay?" Dean asks, picking up on my vacant eyes and slight frown.

I suck in a breath, inhaling the scent of the Black Ice air freshener and a hint of stale whiskey, "yeah," I say curtly, keeping my eyes on the trees swaying in the wind as we drive past, lit only by the moon above us. The wind howls against the windows of the Impala, sneaking in and covering my skin with goosebumps.

His face scrunches a bit and he nods before the tick of the blinker signals that he's turning off the highway. I feel a twinge of discomfort knowing we're only minutes away from the motel now. As much as I hate the numbness I feel in my butt and thighs, there is something meditative about being a passenger on a long drive.

We pass an abandoned gas station before I can see the dim lights of the Wandering Inn. Dean parks us by the front desk, leaving the Impala to run with a soft purr as he gets us a key to a room. Neither Sam nor I take our time getting the bags together, so by the time Dean is back out and we find a parking spot near the room, we're ready to head in.

The door whines as Dean pushes it open, immediately palming the peeling wall for a light switch. The overhead light flickers a few times before settling on a weak glow, and before I can even shut the door behind us, the smell of burnt dust and old pledge assaults my nose. I glance around the small room. The musky yellow walls seem to make it feel even smaller, somehow.

Dean turns to me with outstretched arms and a smile, asking for my bags. I dutifully and sleepily hand them over, not realizing the weight they bared until the relief of their absence waves over me. Dean nods his head towards the bathroom, "ladies first on a shower," he says softly. His boots click on the tile as he walks over to toss our bags onto the bed, plopping down next to them to remove his boots.

In a few short strides I head over to grab my bag for the bathroom, stopping in front of him to plant a kiss on his forehead. His eyes, droopy and half-closed, look up at me in a smile. He places his hands my back, thumbs rubbing circles on my skin as he pulls me in for a kiss.

"Thanks for first shower, Dean," I say, letting my hands rest on his shoulders.

His eyebrows rise and fall before he says, "yeah, well, by the looks of it, you need it more than we do tonight."

My ear to ear smile is real, but I fake a laugh before pulling away. "Whatever," I say, but I slowly lose my smile on the way to my shower. Dean's ability to pick up on even the most subtle of changes in me are a testament to how great of a hunter he is, and even greater boyfriend. How he can't pick up on how torn I'm feeling about this wretched day I've no idea. What conflicts me further is that I know it's my responsibility to share these feelings with him. Dean may have an attention to detail I haven't seen in a partner in, well, ever, but he's not a mind reader.

The tile of the bathroom is cold under my feet, so I remove my shirt to stand on it while I wait for the water to heat up. I hear the guys shuffling and moving things in the room, keeping their voices hush, but I'm too tired to give a shit. Waving a hand under the water I decide that it's the perfect temperature and remove the rest of my clothes to get in.

I don't even realize how tense I am until the water hits my shoulders, nearly forcing me to relax under it. My body's reflexes take over and I go into autopilot as I think about today and Valentine's Day is already almost over, but we did nothing… at my request. I roll my eyes at myself, brushing my teeth while the conditioner sits in my hair. The scent of fruit and mint fill the room among the steam. When I rinse my hair, I imagine I'm rinsing the day away.

The mirror is completely fogged up by the time I get out. With slightly damp skin, and a towel wrapped around my head, I struggle to get my clothes on, and it frustrates me.

I open the door and allow the steam to pour into our room, and I'm immediately hit with a surprising smell. It's almost as if someone is roasting marshmallows in our motel room. I take a small, careful step and peek just my head out, eyes zeroing in on the lit candles on the table.

My eyes skip over to Dean who sits on the edge of the bed with his elbows resting on his knees, a single flower in one hand, and a mix-tape in the other. Beneath his feet is a trail of rose petals leading to the door of the bathroom. He keeps his eyes on me, a smile peaking through his lips as he awaits my next move.

Sam's eyes and mine meet before he offers an awkward smile and shuffles a few things around on his bed. He grabs his shower bag, and I take a few steps towards Dean to allow him to enter the bathroom. Dean and I are both silent until the door closes behind Sam.

"What is all this, Dean?" I asks, astonished. Moldy motel room, or 5 star suite, never in my life has anyone laid out rose petals for me. I feel my heart racing like it's ready to burst right out of my chest.

Dean smiles, standing to hand me the flower with a kiss on my cheek. My skin is warm where his lips just were, and he reaches to take my hand, guiding me to sit on our bed.

He notices my eyes glance down at the mix tape before jumping back up to his. "I've been working on this for a few weeks now," he says, shaking the tape in his hand before handing it to me.

My hand shakes when I grab it, and I flip it to see "To my Y/N/N, Love Dean," scribbled on the front. My cheeks grow hot again, but this time with embarrassment that I'd spent the whole day thinking about myself, when here's Dean blowing expectations right out of the water.

"It's, uh, all the songs that remind me of you," he says softly, and I notice the scent of my favorite candle as the flame burns. My head spins.

"I don't know what to say, Dean," I start, and he just smiles, caressing my hand with his calloused fingers, "I mean, thank you. This is the kindest, most loving thing anyone has ever done for me," I say, tears welling in my eyes.

It's overwhelming to think a personal could love someone so much that amidst hunting Heaven, Hell and everything in between he could find the time to make this moment so special.

"Aw, sweetheart, don't cry," he says, arms wrapping around me, pulling me in for a tight hug.

"I'm not crying, Dean," I contest, but I nuzzle my face into his soft, comforting shirt, allowing my arms to wrap around his torso, and under the warmth of his jacket.

I soak in the smell of his sandalwood cologne and tighten my arms around him. Kissing his chest, I mutter another "thank you" before lifting my head to look him in the eyes. He brings his hand to either side of my face, eyes looking back and forth between mine, "you're very welcome," he says, kissing me with a tenderness that takes my breath away, and I realize that it's moments like these that I want to fill my heaven with.

~~~~

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[youcouldmakealife]

SOTM: Gabe/Stephen; a low-key occasion (pt I)

For the prompt: Stephen Petersen, Bridezilla

It quickly became quite clear that this prompt would refuse to settle into a one-parter, so here is the first of at least two. Next one should come within the week.

“I don’t know what they’re talking about,” Stephen says

It isn’t always a bad sign when Stephen starts right in the middle of a conversation he neglected to invite Gabe to — sometimes Stephen genuinely forgets that ‘I should tell Gabe’ isn’t the same as ‘I have told Gabe’. But lately? Lately it’s been a very bad sign indeed.

But then, everything’s a bad sign lately. Stephen says ‘good morning’? Bad sign. Stephen doesn’t say ‘good morning’? Bad sign. Stephen shortens it to ‘morning’? Absolutely terrible sign.

It’s only been getting worse as the wedding date approaches. Gabe thought they’d be above stressing over their wedding, but in hindsight, he’s not sure why. Stephen stresses about everything, and special occasions are no exception. If anything, they’re the exemplar.

“I don’t know what they’re talking about either,” Gabe says, since Stephen’s giving him an expectant look.

Stephen squints. “You don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“No idea,” Gabe says. “You forgot to tell me.”

Stephen huffs.

“Who are they, and what are they talking about?” Gabe says. “I know you said you don’t know, but you sort of said it in a way that implies you do know, you just think that they’re—“

“Full of shit?” Stephen says.

That one, yes.

“You still haven’t told me who ‘they’ is referring to,” Gabe tells him.

Gabe knows Stephen’s trying to get him to agree, but he refuses to do that until he knows who Stephen’s talking about. What if he’s talking about his parents? Or Gabe’s? Gabe is way too big a mama’s boy to ever say his mother is full of shit. And if he did, he’s positive his mom would know. Even if he and Stephen never mentioned it again, even to each other: she’d know.

Stephen huffs at him again. “Them,” he says, gesturing expansively around the room, though Gabe doesn’t think he’s talking about their living room furniture. “Everyone.”

“Okay,” Gabe says. He thinks if he asks what everyone’s saying he’ll get a third huff, and if he gets a third huff, he’s probably going to start agreeing with ‘them’ just on principle, because, whatever it is that 'they' said, Stephen probably deserved it.

“Do you know what Jared called me today?” Stephen says.

Ah. Math. Gabe should have known it was Math, because he manages to get under Stephen’s skin like no one else. Stephen’s sole consolation is that it’s mutual.

Unfortunately, that’s the opposite of consolation for Gabe, who has to listen to both of them bitching about each other afterwards. Well, Dima often has to hear both sides of the bitching too, but he enjoys it.

“Something mean?” Gabe ventures.

“He called me high-maintenance,” Stephen says.

Gabe presses his lips together.

“Him,” Stephen says. “Jared Matheson. Who does not drink beer because he thinks it’s ‘yucky’.”

“You’re not the biggest fan of beer yourself,” Gabe says. He thinks Jared would take umbrage to the ‘yucky’ bit, claim he was too mature for to ever use that word, but he also saw Math’s face when he accidentally took a sip of Bryce’s beer, and ‘this is yucky’ is a pretty good description of the expression he made.

“But I drink it,” Stephen says. “Do you know why?”

Gabe knows exactly what he’ll say the reason is, and he refuses to participate on principle.

“Because I’m not high-maintenance,” Stephen says.

See? He doesn’t need Gabe for this at all. Doesn’t need him for conversations, or wedding planning, or —

“Can you believe that?” Stephen says, then gives Gabe a look that tells him it isn’t a rhetorical question.

Gabe makes a noise. It could be taken as support, if Stephen would like to take it that way. Commiseration, even. But it isn’t.

Because yes. Gabe can believe that.

In fact, messenger aside — no one who has ever met Jared Matheson would describe him as low-maintenance, except probably him, and maybe Bryce if he’s feeling particularly blinded by adoration that day — Gabe can’t do anything but agree.

[underdark-dreams]

[ch1] - [ch2]

A Strand to Climb - Ch.3

Rainstorms, hard conversations, and long-awaited kisses.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Pining | Word Count: 4,189 [Read on AO3]

In a lucky turn of events, Lorroakan was called away from the Tower earlier than usual. Perhaps more Nightsong business connected with Tav’s visit today. 

More likely a soiree in the Upper City with the newly ordained Archduke Gortash and the city’s elite, Rolan thought to himself. Those were the parts of archwizardry that seemed to agree with his master the best.

Whatever the reason, his evening’s lessons were abruptly canceled—as Lorroakan’s projection materialized for a few seconds to unceremoniously inform him. Rolan felt his aching head throb with relief. He’d just been given a night of escape. 

When the closing hour’s bells rang out from Stormshore Tabernacle, Rolan fastened up the shop in record speed.

Rather than head to his siblings’ rented flat, Rolan carved a path toward the Elfsong. It was still early yet—Cal and Lia wouldn't expect him for hours, if they expected him at all tonight. 

A bit early to be visiting the tavern, as well. But watching the gray and downcast weather through the doors of Sorcerous Sundries all day had left him thirsty. Rolan breathed in the cloud-thick and misty air as he walked.

Even for the early hour, the main taproom of the Elfsong was almost completely empty. All the better; fewer chances at unwelcome stares and comments.

Despite having his pick of the entire floor, he slumped into a small table in the farthest corner possible and spilled a few coppers on its surface in preparation. He’d been ready to drink this day away for hours.

"Chancing murder this fine afternoon?" 

As if summoned, a cup of Arabellan Dry appeared in front of him. Lakrissa plucked his coin from the table in the same motion.

Rolan’s work had left him little time to follow the city’s goings on. But he did recall something the Gazette's paper boys had been shouting in the courtyard this morning—the most recent in a string of grisly murders, apparently occurring just above his head. 

No wonder the place was deserted.

"Can hardly be worse than what's behind us," Rolan said glumly, raising the cup to his lips without missing a beat. 

Lakrissa plopped herself down at his table uninvited. "I expected to see your lover with you tonight." 

"My—" It was different hearing someone else say it aloud; he coughed slightly into his wine.

“Cal told me she made it to the city,” Lakrissa explained.

Apparently Cal had taken the liberty of telling her everything else while he was at it. 

"Of course he did." Rolan huffed a sigh. He supposed it was good that his siblings kept in contact with old friends from the road…but could they find nothing more interesting to talk about than his personal life?

"She's pretty," Lakrissa said, as if the compliment was somehow directed at him. "Brave, good fighter…good heart. How exactly you pull that off?"

Her candor would've insulted him, had he not asked himself the same question many times today alone. "No idea," Rolan said, unshouldering the heavy weight of his ego for just a moment. 

"Hm. But you're hiding alone in a tavern, instead of off with her."

"I am not hiding," Rolan glowered at her, though he really was—and for the second time today no less. "I just needed to think, that's all."

"Ah…I get it." Lakrissa swung her bar towel over one shoulder. "She’s seen you."

For all of the times Rolan had visited the Elfsong Tavern while Lakrissa was waiting tables, she'd never commented on the ever-shifting landscape of wounds on his face. She was the type to keep her nose out of other peoples’ business, whether from discretion or from genuine disinterest. 

Either way, Rolan appreciated it about her. He got enough prying and questions from his siblings anytime he went home; the last thing he needed was to be interrogated while he was trying to drown his sorrows.

Perhaps that was why Rolan felt he could ask her the next question. If nothing else, Lakrissa was a realist.

“Be honest. If you were her, seeing me like this—" he gestured a hand stiffly in the direction of his aching face. "What would you think?”

Lakrissa propped elbows on the wood table to support her chin, regarding him in her casually thoughtful way. "I'd think that your apprenticeship with that wizard isn't going too well. But that you must have a good reason for staying."

That seemed more optimistic than he could hope for. Would Tav respect his reasons the same way? Surely she must know by now that he'd take much worse for the opportunity he'd been handed, if that's what it took. He didn't put Cal and Lia through everything he had on the journey here just to give up now.

But for a moment, Rolan pictured what it might be like in reverse. Watching a mad narcissist like Lorroakan lay hands on her; watching her willingly return for more. His knuckles gripped pale around his cup.

Rolan surfaced quickly from that disturbing image. "Sure she wouldn't see a pompous idiot who’d bragged to anyone who would listen?"

Lakrissa tipped her head in a way that suggested she saw his point. "You've never struck me as an idiot, though. How about this, then—I’d see the man who stepped up to get his people through a nightmare and safely to Baldur’s Gate.”

Rolan swirled the wine in his cup, watching the waves gloomily. “She’s the one who made the way safe for us. You know that.”

“You’re so—” Lakrissa leaned back from the table with a laugh. “Gods. For a smart bloke, Rolan, you can be so stupid. I respected Zevlor,” she told him with sudden emphasis, as though Rolan might think she didn't. “All of us did. He’s the one who got us out of Elturel when half of them wanted to chuck us right back into Avernus. And I’ve no idea why he left us, or whether he’s even alive—” A rare wrinkle of emotion appeared between her brows. “But I do know that you were there. Alfie told me all about how you protected the kids and got everyone to Last Light after…everything.”

"Alfira's a bard," Rolan told her, as if she of all people needed reminding. Foolish dreamer was the actual term that came to mind, but he suspected Lakrissa was the type who would smack people for rudeness. "I've no doubt she exaggerated."

"Oh no, she said you were a complete ass about it," Lakrissa replied matter-of-fact. "And that you spent most of your time drinking the Harpers dry before Tav showed up."

Rolan's pride stung at the comment, but he couldn't exactly deny it. Lakrissa went on. "That doesn't change the fact that you kept them safe. You saved people’s lives, Rolan."

He let out a bitter laugh. "It was only me because all the good ones were already dead."

They stared at each other in silence for a beat.

"That's a pretty shit thing to say,” Lakrissa said quietly. “About them, and about yourself."

Rolan looked down at the dark liquid in his cup, but he couldn't think of anything nicer to say on the subject. He was finding it hard to be nice about anything these days. 

"You're a hero, Rolan," Lakrissa told him simply. "And so is she. I reckon the two of you can figure it out…you deserve to give her a chance, at least."

Rolan only let her advice wash over him in silence. When Lakrissa shifted, he saw her grimacing over his shoulder. 

“Damn. Alan’s giving me the eye—ugh, like there's anyone else to serve anyway—” 

But she rose, and Rolan was ready to return to his glass until he felt a hand rustle between his horns—the way he'd often seen Tiefling parents do to their children back home.

“When you do see her, send her by?” Lakrissa asked. “I still owe her a drink.”

—

Rolan left the Elfsong a few minutes later. He found the wine had done little to quiet his troubled head, and something in Lakrissa’s pointed speech had made him feel too guilty to stay any longer.

As he stepped out through the tavern’s wide oak doors, a chill rustled through his robes. The storm was rolling angrily up from the port now. 

Rolan kept his head down against the breeze that pushed much sharper and colder through the streets than before, sweeping river mist off the roiling Chionthar and plastering it against his face and hands. He thought wistfully of his good cloak—currently sitting useless in his room at the Tower. 

Even after weeks in Baldur's Gate, Rolan was still learning to anticipate the rapid changes in weather that could descend on them from proximity to the coastline. Elturel was set deeper inland; they never got sudden squalls like this. 

The few others he encountered in the streets were also rushing to their destinations with bowed heads, or else frantically boarding up their stalls against the oncoming storm. As he glanced up at the clouds again, a large, foreboding drop landed on his brow.

Rolan ducked down an alleyway south past the print shop. Not normally a shortcut he'd take at twilight, especially through Heapside. But any cutpurse stupid enough to be out in this weather would be easy to dispatch.

Within its walls, the narrow space muffled the sounds of the city. Rolan could practically smell the electricity crackling through the stormclouds above as he walked. All of a sudden there was a blinding flash, a clear peal of thunder, and rain erupted on top of him.

Sheets of it swept down like curtains with breathtaking ferocity, drumming loud against roofs and cobblestones and smothering the warm light from any street lamps he hurried past. His robes were soaked through almost instantly. Rolan swore and raised an arm to shield his vision against the rivulets already running from his hair.

Despite the shortcut, the path to Cal and Lia’s took longer than usual. Small rivers were forming through the streets from the rapid downpour, and the cobbles grew slick under his boots. Rolan had to catch his balance against stone walls and fences a few times. The clatter of rain and thunder was so deafening he could almost feel his brain rattling around inside his skull.

When Rolan stepped under the footbridge around the corner from home, the muffled reprieve made him let out a breath of relief. He paused for a moment to wipe the rain from his forehead and eyes, even wrung out the ends of his hair.

With his head tilted so, he caught sight of a cloaked figure standing on the doorstep to his siblings’ front door. 

Where he stood was cast in shadow—combined with the thick curtains of rain falling between them, Tav hadn't noticed him yet, though they were standing just a few meters apart. She was squinting up at the number above the doorpost. One hand reached from under her cloak to knock, but she paused halfway through the motion as if second-guessing herself.

Was she just looking for Cal and Lia? Or had she somehow known Rolan would be here? But that didn’t make sense—even he hadn’t expected to spend a night with his family until a few hours ago.

Rolan stared at Tav’s upturned face, watching her lashes flutter as she blinked away a few droplets of rain. His heart leapt against his ribs from a bewildering mixture of love and fear.

“Rolan?”

Despite the downpour around them, her voice reached Rolan’s ear with a clarity that made him start where he stood.

She was peering at his figure through the curtain of rain between them. Then she rushed forward without a word, and before Rolan could react, her body collided against his wet robes with a smack. 

He found himself immediately enfolded in her familiar scent as her cheek pressed against his. Rolan's arms circled to hold her of their own volition, every other tumultuous thought conveniently swept from his head.

Then she drew back, and she leaned up to kiss him. 

Her lips were warm and welcoming as hearthfire. Rolan shivered slightly as he realized just how much the wind and rain had chilled him. When her mouth grazed a spot of broken skin, he flinched back at the sting.

"Oh." She stepped away as though he’d burned her. "I—sorry."

"It's not that," he told her. Unbidden, his hand reached toward the edge of her cloak to find one of hers.

Their fingers hooked together finally, and she inhaled in surprise. "Rolan, you're freezing! How long were you out in this?"

Without waiting for his answer, she tugged him forward to the door on the corner. She neglected to knock and simply reached for the latch, and the two of them spilled across the threshold in tandem with another peal of thunder.

Lia leapt up from the table, her shortsword at the ready and polishing rag in hand. Cal’s face appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking equally alarmed. The four of them stared at each other as rain poured into the doorway.

“For hell’s sake—”

Lia darted forward, and for a wild moment Rolan half-expected to be caught up in a hug. But she only pushed past him and wrenched the door shut against a fresh gust of rain, drawing the bolt across. 

Muffled silence blanketed the room around them. After being out in the storm, it made Rolan’s ears ring. Beside him, Tav pushed her cloak’s hood back to her shoulders. 

“Sorry about that,” she told his siblings with a breathless smile.

It triggered a flurry of activity. Lia was drawing her into the room, whisking her cloak off to hang it near the hearth to dry. Cal plunked a large cast iron pot of something steaming onto the central table—a good bit of it spilled over the side—and began poking around in cabinets to find another bowl. They were both talking over each other to Tav the entire time.

Rolan found himself rather left out of it all, and a bit indignant at the fact. 

He spread his palms wide to either side, dripping a path across the floor in the process. “Hello?”

“Oh—” Cal blinked over at him as though just noticing he was there. “Hi, Rolan.”

Lia made no response, suddenly busying herself with putting away her whetstone and sheathing her sword. The cool reception wasn’t lost on him.

“Nice place,” Tav remarked, stretching her hands appreciatively toward the fireplace.

“It’s really not,” Cal said cheerfully. “But it’s better than we hoped, really. All paid for by that bast—”

“Hungry?” Lia interrupted, looking pointedly at Tav and not her older brother. Tav exchanged an uncertain glance with him.

“Not for me,” she answered. “But thanks, and thanks for the invitation. It’s good to see you both well.”

Rolan caught her eye. “Lia and I caught up the other day,” she explained.

“About what?” Rolan asked, unable to stop himself.

Finally, Lia leveled a stare at him. “Take a guess.”

She and Rolan looked at each other in silence for a tense moment. Internally, he was fitting together the pieces of Tav’s visit to the Sundries.

“Anyway,” Tav interrupted slowly, “Rolan and I were actually just hoping for a place to talk.”

“Ah—right. Should we step out?” 

Cal’s voice sounded a bit strained; maybe he assumed that ‘talking’ was some kind of euphemism. The thought made Rolan’s ears grow warm under his hair, but Tav responded before he could open his mouth.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you two can’t go out in all this.” Her face turned toward Rolan, questioning. “Do you have a room we could go to?”

He nodded wordlessly and started down the hall. The fact that Lia and Cal both refrained from comment was a surprise—one that he felt grateful for. Perhaps they’d finally picked up on the tension between the two of them.

Rolan held the door to his bedroom open for her and followed her inside. He felt around for the candle sconce near the doorway and lit it with a word. 

The space was small and plain, but quite clean; his duties didn’t allow him to spend many nights here. Even the narrow bed along the wall was still neatly made from last week.

As she reached to lock the door behind them, she turned to Rolan. “Do you keep clothes here?”

“What are you talking about?” He cringed at how bluntly his own words came out.

Without explaining, she slipped the small pack from her shoulders and tossed it to the floor. Then she swept past him toward the wardrobe and began rifling through its contents.

“Here—” She tossed a set of clean clothes onto the bed. “Change into these. Towel?” Not pausing for an answer, she dug for one at the back of the shelf and added it to the pile.

Rolan frowned at her back defensively. “I can take care of my—”

“Rolan, please just shut up,” she interrupted. She was still turned away, but there was a slight tremor in her voice. “We have a lot we need to talk about. And I can't concentrate with you looking like a wet cat.”

Rolan glanced down at his robes; droplets from the hem were steadily forming a small puddle between his boots. His combined appearance must be pitiful indeed at the moment. Too embarrassed to protest further, Rolan began working at the fastenings of his garments.

Though she'd seen him entirely naked before, something about this moment felt even more intimate somehow. He undressed silently as the muffled rainstorm continued against the shuttered window of his room.

As he removed each soaked layer, she kept her gaze averted to respect his privacy. Rolan did catch her glancing at him a few times when she thought he wouldn't notice, but there was more concern than desire in it. As if she was checking him over.

It did feel much more comfortable to slip a dry tunic and trousers over his chilled skin. Before he set his wet robes aside, Rolan turned away as if folding them in order to retrieve her handwritten note from the pocket. Rain had smudged the ink a bit, but the three most important words were still legible. He exchanged it for the dry pocket at his hip.

The leather tie from his hair—the same one she'd used that very first night—was slipped off and into his pocket as well.

Then he moved to sit on the edge of the bed and began roughly scrubbing at his wet hair with the towel, as if the force might inject some courage into his skull. His mind was currently swirling with uncertainty of what she would say next.

Rolan caught her eye from behind his loose strands of hair. To his very great relief, her expression softened.

“Let me—”

In a flash, she had curled up cross-legged behind him on the bed and was taking the cloth from his hand. She smoothed his hair back and squeezed rainwater from the ends.

Her touch was much gentler than his own—the gentlest thing he’d felt in weeks. Rolan closed his eyes at the feeling of her fingers combing against his scalp. He found himself very grateful she couldn't see his face. If this was the most she ever wanted to touch him again, he thought he could almost be satisfied. 

“I spoke with Lorroakan today.”

Rolan sat quiet for a moment. “I know.”

“You’ve got more magic in one hand than that charlatan has in his whole fucking body.”

Her bluntness caused his lips to twitch with an unwilling smile. “I know,” Rolan repeated, more confident this time.

The fingers in his hair paused; he could practically feel her eyes boring into the back of his head. “Rolan, is that why he's doing this to you? Hurting you?

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Rolan told her. Making sense of Lorroakan was futile. He had stopped trying long ago, to save his own sanity. Even now, her questions stirred up an anxious frustration in his chest. “Does it matter?”

There was a soft rustle as she scooted sideways into his sight line—Rolan glanced over to see her brow wrinkled in a sad expression. 

“How can you say that?” She replied. “Of course it matters what happens to you, Rolan.”

There was not a trace of insincerity in her face. Rolan found he badly wanted to kiss her again. Instead, he bowed his head toward the floor.

“This is just how it is,” he told the floorboards. “It won't be forever. I'm strong enough to bear much worse than this, you know.” 

“I know you are—” Her fingers resumed their work in his hair, gently tugging and working at a small knot. “The point is you shouldn't have to.” 

She was right, of course. He had no logical defense against her words. The room lapsed into silence instead. Beyond the walls, blustering sheets of rain continued to buffet against the roof tiles and window panes.

Tav spoke up behind him again. “Some of those bruises are old. You aren't healing yourself at least?”

She gave his skill more credit than he deserved. “I’m still learning how,” Rolan admitted glumly, glad again to be facing away from her. 

In truth, healing scrolls were what he'd been searching for that night Lorroakan had accused him. If only he could see the techniques for himself—he was certain he could master them. The archmage had conspicuously neglected to allow any lessons on abjuration magic thus far.

The mattress behind him shifted as Tav rose. Rolan watched her move to snatch up her pack from the corner, then barely managed to catch it as the object sailed toward his lap.

“Take those,” she said as she clambered back up behind him to continue gently toweling his hair. “Keep them here, study from them whenever you want. They're yours.”

Rolan felt a thrill of pure excitement as he peered down into the leather bag—and found it filled with a score of tightly bound spell scrolls. This small cache was worth more gold than he’d ever seen together in one place.

He pulled one out to examine its formidable wax seal. “Where did you get all of these?”

“Um…don't worry about it.”

“Stolen,” he finished dryly.

Her tone grew playfully defensive behind him. “From a very bad man who is now dead. There, does that satisfy you?” 

Rolan had turned to kiss her before the last word left her lips. The pack slipped to the floor between his feet as his hands notched behind Tav’s jaw to pull her forward. He felt a damp weight land in his lap as her now-empty fingers slid around his torso.

Rolan broke away just enough to speak. “Stay here tonight,” he told her. It wasn't a question.

Tav nodded, leaning back in for his mouth.

Her fingers splayed in the dip between his jaw and his ear, tilting his face into hers. He kept his palm firmly pressed on the curve of her waist. Each time her lips slid softly over his, Rolan found his heart filled with another shimmering pearl of hope. They stayed there connected in a kiss until his back began to ache from the contorted position. 

To his immense disappointment, Tav pulled away first. But she only made a hesitant request to borrow some clothes for herself. Rolan finally realized with a jolt of guilt that her own were wet down the front, no doubt from that moment she'd held him outside in the rain.

Rolan trained his eyes away to give her the same privacy. But though Tav didn't meet his eye, she made no attempt to hide her body—in fact seemed to move with deliberate slowness as she stripped down and pulled the threadbare tunic over her head. It barely skimmed the tops of her thighs.

Then she moved to the candle near the door and extinguished it with a puff.

Through the near-darkness, Rolan worked the bedcovers down to slip beneath them. As his damp hair landed on the pillow, he felt the mattress dip beside him as Tav promptly curled herself in along his front under the blankets. Underneath, his tail moved with a mind of its own to wind around one of her legs. She let out a small, happy sigh that tickled across his chin.

Rolan briefly wondered if they were intentionally trying to distract each other. Tav had clearly come here to find him and talk, after all. And there was much more to say—he could feel all the words unspoken hanging between them like a tangible thing. From the way Tav’s fingers worried the laces of his shirt, he wondered if she was thinking the same. 

But neither of them spoke for the moment, just lying together as they listened to the storm continue outside on the streets of Baldur’s Gate. 

Eventually, Rolan laid his arm still across her and closed his eyes. She was so warm, her quiet presence so comforting—and he found now that he was very, very tired. 

Perhaps the rest of it could keep until the morning.

[am-i-interrupting]

Walk Home | Vox x Alastor’s Child— OATSH

Summary: A certain TV show host comes to your book signing and stays for a while after.

“Thank you so much for the support,” you said as a young woman clutched her now signed book to her chest and walked away.

You looked up at who was next in line, ready to begin the same bullshit you’d done for the last hour and a half but stopped as you saw a familiar show host.

“Any chance I could get this signed?” he asked with a smug smile as you stared at him.

“Of course,” you told him. He handed you the book and you put your pen to the interior. “What exactly are you doing here?”

“Like I said, I’d like to get to know you,” he replied.

“Oh? And stalking me is going to get you good favor?” you asked.

“It’s not stalking if it’s public knowledge.”

“Mmm hm. I suppose that may be true.”

“Suppose? Well, I had hoped you’d say you agreed but maybe if not to that then maybe you’d agree to meeting me later this evening?”

You snapped the book shut, eyes staring into his. You extended your arm slowly, carefully, precisely to hold his attention. He leaned a bit forward to get closer to you as he took it.

“Perhaps you’ll have to stick around and find out,” you told him in a whisper.

“I think I will,” he said before walking away.

You quickly shook yourself as you turned to address the next person in line.

When the time came where everyone packed their bags, you were ready to go. Not necessarily home. You’d been sitting for hours. You wanted to move. Just standing felt like such a big relief.

You stretched your hands above your head as you began walking towards the exit. Close to the wall, leaning against it was the show host. He kicked himself upright and opened the door for you.

“So, do I have the honor of accompanying you tonight?” he asked.

“On one condition,” you told him, “you understand that I’m not looking to hand myself over to an active duty man tonight or most nights to be frank.”

“I hadn’t been under the assumption you were,” he said.

“Good because I’ve had far too many men make that mistake before. It’s why I enjoy fairer company,” you said.

“I’d imagine it gets tiring,” he said.

“It does. Now, have you been to the Pandemonium?”

“I. . .” He blinked several times. “Yes, once.”

“Good, because I need to get buzzed at the least and ideally go for a loop ‘round the bender to forgot the bore that was today,” you told him. You looked over and saw his brows furrow. “What?”

“Nothing, you are just so surprising,” he said. “You’re, and I don’t mean any offense, not what you appear like.”

“Well, that’s the thing about appearances, they’re just that an appearance. This is all for show,” you said with a gesture towards your clothing. “I was raised by a serial killer and call girls, I’m far from decent.”

“I wouldn’t call you indecent company,” he said.

You rolled your eyes.

The rest of the walk and for the rest of the night the two of you made small talk. He asked you questions. You gave half truths. You asked him questioned and were given what you believed to be the same.

“You’ve had more to drink than me,” he said, words more than a bit slurred. “How are you not absolutely sloshed?”

A smile spread across your face, “I’ve got that New Orleans blood in me, honey.”

“Honey,” he repeated. “I like the way you say that.”

“Okay, I think you’ve had enough,” you said.

You began to pull your wallet out but he batted your hand away without touching. He pulled out his own instead and put some money on the bar as he stood up, leaning on the counter.

“Let me walk you home,” you told him.

“Oh? You’re walking me home now?” he asked.

“Only because you’re staggering instead of strutting,” you told him. “Now, where do you live?”

He gave you the directions and you followed him, making sure he didn’t topple on the way. Some confusion as to where he kept his spare key happened before you were able to unlock the door.

“Come in, won’t you?”

You looked out of the corner of your eye at his neighbors’ house, the porch lights on. “I’ll have to decline.”

“The neighbors don’t talk,” he said. “Even if they did, what more could they say than what a lucky man I am to have such a beautiful woman in my home?”

“You can’t know that,” you told him.

“They’ve never talked before,” he said. “Besides, we won’t do anything, just talk. I enjoy your company.”

“They don’t know that,” you replied. “Good night.”

“Sleep tight.”

You laughed to yourself. “You are far past—“ you dared to reach a finger out to poke at his forehead; he nearly tipped backwards—“tipsy.”

You reached for the doorknob and closed the door. Then you spun around and began making your way back to your hotel. There was liquor still on your lips and bit of a sashay to your hips as you walked through the dim streets.

You collapsed on the mattress still riding the combined trip of alcohol and good company.

[little-emerald-snake]

Smutmas Day 8

“Touch me and you lose.” - Ominis Gaunt X F!MC

🔥NSFW 🔞 MDNI

869 words

There were many reasons that having Sebastian ‘troublemaker’ Sallow as a best friend was beneficial. Today it just happened to be that his best friend had helped him set up a scheme to get his girlfriend alone in the showers.

Ominis had her scheduled down to a T. Knew when she got up and showered every morning, knew all her classes, and all her friends. Luckily Sebastian was all for his best friend getting laid so he’d agreed to make sure that the girls showers were empty and that they stayed that way while he carried out his plan.

She, as usual, had entered the girl bathroom which was surprisingly empty this morning. She quickly tucked herself into a shower stall and stripped down to nothing before turning on the hot water and letting it wash over her tired body.

She was in the middle of letting it soak into her hair when she heard the curtain of the shower open. She gasped, hands flying to cover herself, blinking rapidly as her mind tried to process the very naked figure of her blonde boyfriend standing in front of her in the cubicle. “O-Ominis?! Y-you can’t be in here…this is the girls bathroom!”

Her whisper yelling only made him chuckle as he stepped in and nudged her aside, letting the warm water roll over him and down his body. “Oh darling, you don’t think I know that? Weren’t you surprised at the lack of girls here now? I've been assured we will be alone for a while. But it’s not for what you think. I just want to take a nice pleasant shower with my lovely girlfriend.”

She was wide eyed, watching as he tipped his head back and let the water soak his hair, darkening his blonde locks a shade or two in the process. Tiny droplets caught her attention as they rolled down his pale ribcage, her eyes catching on the two beauty marks just on his hip above his pelvis.

Her eyes shamelessly moved over his body, tongue peeking from between her lips to wet her suddenly chapped lips. He chuckled as he stepped out of the water towards her. “You know, it’s not polite to stare at a blind man, my dear.”

She shivered at his tone, gasping slightly as his hands came up to her arms, guiding her a few steps into the water again. She lifted her eyes and went back to letting the water wash over her, wishing it had the ability to cleanse away the sudden mental fog she had.

Her eyes darted from the roof to the floor to the stall wall all while occasionally glancing at him as he took the soap and lathered himself in it. Foamy suds in his hair and over the lithe muscles in his abdomen, arms, and legs.

It wasn’t often she got to see all of him like this and even though he’d told her not to stare, she couldn't help but eat up the view in front of her. He was a good looking man through and through.

He remained too silent for her liking as they switched out, her going to lather up and him rinsing pleasant smelling suds down the drain below them. She wasn’t the only one who was enjoying this little game. She could tell from his proud erection that now stood steadily out in front of him, just begging to be caressed.

Once it was her turn to wash away the suds, he sat on the small bench to the side, hand wrapping around his manhood, head tipping back to lean against the stall. He slowly started stroking his hand up and down his shaft, pulling his lip between his teeth.

She had rinsed the majority of the suds now but as she reached out to replace his hand with hers he tisk’d her and remained stroking steadily. “Ah ah. Since I know your morning schedule so much you’ll get to see mine, starting the day with a shower while I imagine you in here having your own. As soon as I’m clean I sit exactly like this and think about how good it would feel to have your pretty cunt wrapped around me just like my fist is now.”

She bit her own lip, thighs pressing together in earnest as she watched him pleasure himself. The small groan that fell from his lips was enough to have her fingers drifting down to her slit. “Oh and you can pleasure yourself…but…touch me and you lose.”

She whimpered as she sat down on the bench beside him, placing one leg up on the bench and spreading herself open so she could touch herself while she watched. Little did she know just how long Ominis would edge himself in the shower next to her.

He toyed with her, no end in sight as his hips lifted off the bench, his body chasing the orgasm he seemed to be denying himself till he was whimpering and stuttering beside her. His cock head red, swollen and leaking precum so much it physically hurt her not to lick it up while he used it as lubrication to fuck his own fist beside her.

[mimisempai]

Under a sky full of stars

Summary

When Muriel says they're going to the planetarium, Aziraphale doesn't miss the spark of interest in Crowley's eyes and they decide to accompany the other angel.

This visit will be the occasion of several discoveries for the angel and the demon.

Notes

Because there are never enough images of Crowley happy among the stars...

And perhaps a possibility for Crowley to have something special...

On Ao3

Rating G -  2026 words

"Hello, hello, hello!"

It had become Muriel's traditional greeting when they arrived at the bookshop in the morning. They walked over to Aziraphale's desk and set down a plate garnished with a slice of apple pie.

Aziraphale smiled at them before replying, "Good morning, Muriel, and thank you very much.

Muriel turned to Crowley, who was sitting on the sofa, and handed him a cup of coffee from Nina's.

"Here's your coffee."

Crowley took it and said gently, "Muriel, you know you don't have to do this."

They nodded and replied, "I know that. I do it because I want to."

The angel and the demon could tell by their determination that there was no point debating it. Then Muriel added, "Nina told me to say hello. Well, she literally said to say hello to the two lovebirds."

Crowley huffed as Aziraphale laughed lightly.

Muriel, indifferent to their reactions, added, "Well, she can say whatever she wants, because after all, she and Maggie are exactly the same lovebirds when they are together."

This had the advantage of pleasing Crowley, who began to chuckle in turn, already preparing for the next discussion with Nina, knowing that this time he would have the upper hand.

Aziraphale asked Muriel, "So where are you going today? What's the place you're planning to visit?"

It was Wednesday, and Wednesday was the day Muriel had decided to explore the city and expand their knowledge. It had become a tradition to see them off with their little backpack and notebook in hand.

With a smile on their face, they replied, "I found something new. It's named Planetarium. They say it's a place where you can sit like in a theater and they show you the sky and explain the stars."

Aziraphale replied, "Oh, that's a good idea. I'm sure you'll enjoy it very much." 

He turned his head toward Crowley and added, "It's a good idea, don't you think?"

Crowley agreed nonchalantly, but Aziraphale had seen the spark of interest in his eyes. He turned to Muriel and said softly, "Muriel, would you please wait five minutes before you leave?"

He turned to Crowley again and asked, "Crowley, dear, will you come with me to the back room?"

Crowley looked surprised, but got up and followed the angel. 

Once in the back room, Aziraphale asked him, "Would you like us to go with them?"

Crowley immediately shook his head and replied, "No, no, they doesn't need us to see what it's like."

Aziraphale moved closer to the demon and, staring at him, repeated the question, "Crowley, not to me, answer me honestly, do you want to go with Muriel?"

Unable to escape the angel's gaze, Crowley let out a small sigh before replying, "Yes, I would like to go."

Aziraphale cupped the demon's face in his hands and planted a kiss on his lips before saying softly, "I like it when you say what you really want, you know?"

Then he took Crowley's hand and they both joined Muriel. 

Aziraphale said to them, "Muriel, if it's all right with you, we'd like to go to the planetarium with you."

They saw the expression on Muriel's face, who still hadn't learned to hide their emotions, change from astonishment to joy before they exclaimed, "Of course I don't mind you coming with me. On the contrary, I'm delighted."

And just like that, a few moments later, the three of them were sitting in the planetarium's reclining seats, their eyes raised to the artificial starry sky above them. 

A presenter circulated among the audience, using a microphone to describe the constellations, the various stars and planets.

"So you see here, this is Elnath, part of the constellation of Aries -"

At this point, Crowley sighed and leaned toward Aziraphale, "Angel, this idiot has absolutely no idea what he's talking about. That's the third mistake he's made since the beginning. It's part of the constellation of Taurus."

Aziraphale placed a hand on the demon's knee and squeezed it gently to calm him, an indulgent smile on his lips.

The presenter continued, "The Cat's Eye Nebula, also known as NGC 6543 and Caldwell 6, is a planetary nebula located in the southern constellation of Draco..."

Crowley heaved a heavy sigh, slapped his hands on his knees and said, turning to Aziraphale, "That's enough, Angel, I can't take it anymore. I've got to do something. I'm sorry." 

As Muriel and Aziraphale looked on in astonishment, Crowley stood and walked over to the presenter.

He called out, "Sir, you need to stay in your seat while I explain. Please return to your place."

Crowley immediately replied, "I'm sorry, but when I see the kind of nonsense you're spouting, I can't have you misleading people like this."

Annoyed, the demon gave the presenter a complete list of all the mistakes he'd made since the beginning of the presentation. When he finished, the man exclaimed, "While you're at it, why don't you take my place?"

The demon replied, "Well, since you're so kind, I'll do just that, because as I said, I can't have you filling all these people's heads with the nonsense you've been spouting all along."

The presenter handed him the microphone and said in an arrogant tone, "Please, sir, if you think you can do better than me."

Crowley replied, grabbing the microphone, "I don't think I can. I know I can."

The demon began to walk around, explaining the starry sky above them. From their seats, Muriel and Aziraphale had watched the whole scene, and although they had initially been a little embarrassed by Crowley's behaviour, that had now changed. 

Aziraphale looked around and saw that everyone present was absolutely mesmerised. Not just with the sky, but with Crowley's way of speaking. He looked at the demon and couldn't help but feel his throat tighten at the expression on his face.

"I know that expression."

He remembered it, even though it had been millennia since he'd seen it. 

He remembered it as if it were yesterday.

That joy. 

That passion.

That light. 

He felt a hand on his arm and Muriel asked him gently in a whisper, "Aziraphale, what's wrong?"

Aziraphale realised he was crying, so he turned to the other angel and replied, "I'm not sad, don't worry. In fact, I'm perfectly fine. It's just that I never thought I'd see that expression again."

Muriel looked at him in confusion and asked, "What are you talking about?"

Aziraphale replied, his voice heavy with emotion, "Well, you see, before he was a demon, Crowley was an angel."

He told them about their first meeting and when he had finished Muriel said quietly, "I understand now. I also understand why he told me he hadn't always been a demon. He really is an extraordinary person, Crowley, isn't he?"

Aziraphale, his eyes still glistening with tears, nodded vigorously before looking back at Crowley, who had just finished his explanations. 

There was silence for a few seconds before the room erupted in applause. Aziraphale couldn't help but be proud of his demon.

Crowley, for his part, remained unconcerned, only handing the microphone back to the moderator and coming over to Aziraphale and Muriel, who had stood up to wait for him before leaving.

As he walked towards them, Aziraphale thought the demon couldn't hide the joy on his face, even if he tried to deny it. Walking side by side towards the exit, Aziraphale asked him, "Did you have a good time, my dear?"

"I don't think I'll be able to deny it, will I?"

"Oh no, you won't."

Muriel, who was hopping along beside them, intervened, "Wow, Mister Grumpy, that was really great. I had no idea you knew so much about the stars!"

Crowley was about to reply when they were interrupted by a voice from behind, "Excuse me, could I speak to you for a moment, please?"

They turned to see a middle aged man in a suit. He had a small badge on his suit that said, "Mr Patterson, Observatory Manager". The man continued, "I must say I was very impressed by the demonstration you gave earlier. I haven't seen such a passionate audience in a very long time. May I ask you, out of the blue, if you'd be interested in being a consultant and doing this kind of session for us occasionally?" 

Crowley started to shake his head and was about to refuse outright, but Aziraphale stopped him by placing a hand on his arm and saying gently to the man, "I think it's the kind of decision that requires thought. Will you allow him to think about it for a while and Crowley will give his answer a little later?"

The man nodded vigorously and replied, "Yes, of course, absolutely. Take all the time you need, especially if it means your answer could be positive."

He bade them goodbye before returning to the planetarium. 

Aziraphale turned to Crowley and said quietly, "Don't make any rash decisions. I don't want to force you into anything, but I just want to give you time to consider it."

Crowley just nodded and they walked towards the Bentley.

Muriel passed them and said, "I'll leave you here. I have other visits to make today."

Just before they left they turned to them and said, "Anyway, thank you, I've really had a great time, thanks to you Crowley I've learnt some new things about the stars and thanks to you Aziraphale I've learnt another new thing too."

"And what have you learnt?" asked Aziraphale, puzzled.

Muriel, a playful little smile on their lips, "I know now when you first fell in love with Mr Grumpy."

With that, they hopped away, indifferent to the state of shock they had left the demon and the angel in.

Crowley raised an eyebrow and turned to the angel, "Tell me, Angel, what on earth did they mean?"

Aziraphale, his cheeks flushed, shook his head and replied, "Not here."

The journey to the shop was silent, and Crowley noticed that Angel became increasingly agitated as they approached.

Once inside the bookshop, Crowley took the angel's hands and asked softly, "What did Muriel mean?"

Aziraphale, his cheeks as flushed as before, replied, "I told them about our first meeting and they must have deduced that..."

Crowley interrupted, "That time?"

Aziraphale nodded gently and said, "One thing is certain, my feelings for you were born that day."

Crowley leaned over and kissed him tenderly, then said sheepishly, "I'm sorry I didn't see..."

Aziraphale shook his head and, placing a hand on the demon's cheek, said softly, "Don't be. I fell under your spell partly because of your communicative joy, your enthusiasm, your passion for these unborn stars, for sharing your knowledge with me".

"He gently stroked his cheek with his thumb and continued, "Which is why I think you should consider the Observatory Director's proposal. Because the joy I saw on your face, Crowley, the passion you had when you spoke of the stars, it was the same. I recognised it. I'm not pressuring you, never, but give yourself time to think about it."

He drew the demon's face to his and kissed him before adding, "You're not going to deny that you were happy then, are you?"

Crowley shook his head and said softly, "I'll think about i."

The angel smiled and said, "That's all I ask of you."

Then a mischievous little smile appeared on the demon's lips and he said playfully, "So you've fallen for me among the stars?"

Aziraphale pouted and replied, "Yes, but all you could see were them."

Crowley replied in the same playful tone, "May I be forgiven if I say I can only see you now?

Aziraphale chuckled softly, "I don't know if such cheesiness is forgivable."

"Angel!"

Aziraphale replied in a playful tone, "Kiss me and you will be forgiven".

Obviously, the demon could only comply with such a request, for although the stars were an undeniable source of joy for him, his true source of joy was the angel in his arms.

And whether it was cheesy or not, it didn't matter because it was the truth.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : here (After season 2)

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

[manias-wordcount]

Hello! I don’t know if your requests are open but I would like to ask if you can make a scenario of Mori Ougai (Bungo stray dogs) x reader where they’re in smutty time and reader use the safe word ^^ thank you!

Using the Safeword during sex HCs (Mori Ougai)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗶 𝗱𝗶𝗱𝗻'𝘁 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗰 𝗰𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗶 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗮 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗮 𝗶 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗮 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘁 𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗶𝘁 𝗦𝗢𝗢𝗢𝗢𝗢 𝗶 𝗴𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗰 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗶 𝗳𝗶𝗰 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗼𝗺 𝗵𝗲𝗵𝗲! 𝗶 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆 𝗶𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵!

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚 !! 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁, 𝘃𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝗲𝘅

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

You’ve never used it before so it almost didn’t register for him

But luckily it did and he was stopping in an instant

Of course, it freaked him out quite a bit because he didn’t think he was hurting you or anything

But still, his biggest concern was just on you and you alone.

Since it was your first time ever using a safeword with him, he didn’t exactly know how to go about things lol

Should he pull out??? Would that make things better??? Should he leave the room??? Stay inside but sit away from you??? Like what???

Eventually, he just settled for staying perfectly still while hovering above you and waiting for you to tell him what was wrong and what needed to change

It’s almost kind of scary watching you struggle to catch your breath despite him stopping a while ago 

but he knew he wouldn’t find out anything about how to make things better unless he was patient 

And luckily for him, nothing was totally wrong, per se!

With an embarrassed mumble, you had to just tell him that your body was growing too sensitive and were feeling a little too overwhelmed at the moment to continue

Which made sense since he was trying to make you break your record today…

Finding out that he wasn’t actually hurting you made Mori feel 1000% times better

After all, he takes making love extremely seriously and you having a positive is all he could ask for

So he was able to easily settle for just laying down at your side and holding you close until you were able to handle the feeling of him pulling away

“You scared me today,” He mumbles almost silently in your ear. “I was really worried I hurt you.”

You shifted your head to turn back and look at him. Your change in position allows him to wrap his arm around your waist even tighter than before. The smile you offer up to him is adorable- innocent and cute. It’s almost disarming enough for him to forget that he’s still buried inside your warm pussy, waiting for the moment you tell him it’s alright for him to pull out. Almost.

“I’m fine, Ougai!” You giggle softly, tiredness lacing your voice and your smile. You lean into his touch even further, as if trying to prove to him with more than just your words that you were okay. “It was just a little too much for a moment. That’s all.”

“I’m sorry my dear.” He finds himself apologizing again, before maneuvering ever so slightly so that he could place a tiny kiss on your cheek. The whole ordeal has still left him a bit shaken. The thought of how easily he could hurt you with his own strength or his powers hasn’t quite left his mind since you spoke your safeword out loud and communicated how overwhelmed you felt at that time. But the laughter that comes once his lips make contact with your cheek is enough to slowly get his confidence back. Ever so slightly, at least.

“No, It’s okay…” You begin quietly before you start to trail off and avert your gaze. The same way you used to when you first met him. When he first asked you out. When he first told you that he loved you. And when you said it back too. “...I like it when you’re rough.”

“But not too rough?” He asks, a smile of his own finally gracing his face.

“But not too rough.” You agreed, reaching up to give him a kiss of your own.

[gurathins]

25 & 26!!

THANK YOUUU <3

prompt writing ask game: senseless & how dare (you)

summary: small little meeting conversation between a project manager and his three head researches who just absolutely hate the manager's ideas.

---

Aleena twirled her pen in her hand. "Any idea why Samuel invited us to another little meeting?"

Erin shrugged. "Nope, I was kinda dragged here by my assistant. Toby, you've got any idea?"

Tobias raised its head from the table. "Uh, what?" After Erin repeated what they were had said before, it shook its head. "No, and honestly don't care about this whole thing. I asked him if I could take the rest of the day off because of my migraine and he told me to fuck off."

"Well, aren't you having a nice day today," Aleena reached for a water bottle and poured more water into its glass. "Here's some water for emotional support."

Tobias groaned and reached for the glass, holding it in its hand for a moment and then slowly pressed it against own forehead.

"Cheer up, maybe he'll let us go after he complains some more about us not supporting him."

The meeting room's door opened and Samuel walked in, a slightly annoyed expression on his face. He walked inside, closed the door and dusted off his jacket's shoulders.

"I heard some whispers around the office that you three," he glanced at the three head researchers, all three of whom just simply stared at him with confused faces, "have been complaining about some things I have decided on during the meeting. Would you tell me why?"

The researches looked at each other, slightly shrugging.

Samuel sighed. "How about I choose one of you to actually answer my question, then? Dr. Katz, would you like to say what exactly do you want me to do?"

Tobias shifted in its chair, leaning back and crossing its arms. "'Want'? Well, the only thing I actually want right now is to have my wife kiss me senseless just so I can forget all the bullshit you're trying to pull."

Aleena snorted with laughter and Erin covered their mouth to hide their wide smile.

Samuel sighed, again, and said with as neutral face expression as he could, "You think you're funny, huh?"

"I do think so, yes, thanks for asking."

"I don't agree."

Aleena chuckled. "That's your problem."

"Here's some food for thought, Samuel," Erin started, "We don't agree with you, give you our opinion based on our knowledge, and you still go do everything your way. You expect us to be completely fine with that? Hell, you chose us to your project, which means you should probably, I don't know, listen to us?"

"Some of you weren't chosen by me," he glanced at Toby, "And besides, you signed the contracts and they clearly state that I have the last word."

"Our contracts don't say we need to agree with your unethical ideas, either."

Samuel rolled his eyes. "What's unethical in wanting to move the process a bit faster? The quicker we finish the quicker we get our profits-"

"Are you fucking serious?" Tobias rose up and leaned on the table, "How dare you put some fucking money above human lives that could be lost due to your recklessness and idiotic need for more money?"

"I'm pretty sure everyone knows that working for a corporation usually means a 'money first, human lives for ads only' policy, but I guess some public sector researcher may not be aware of that. You're free to go back, too."

"You can't be fucking serious."

"Now, now," Aleena rose up and walked to Samuel, "As you can see, all three of us are against you. Complain to the steering group as much as you want, but I doubt any of us will do what you say. I suggest that you think about this, sleep on this and come back with new thoughts."

Samuel looked her in the eyes, "I suggest the same to you three, too. I am not backing down." He turned to the other two researchers. "We're done for today." He opened the door and left the room.

"So, what do we do now?" Erin asked, closing her journal.

Aleena shrugged. "I think we should just tell our teams to continue working the way we have been working."

Erin nodded. "Yep. And maybe contact some people in the steering group or whatever. What do you think, Toby? Who do you think we should contact?"

"The news outlets."

"Don't you think that's a bit...too much?"

"No," Tobias leaned back on its chair and covered his face, "Internal affairs are another option, though."

Aleena shook her head. "It's not that bad, yet. We could still change his mind, I think."

"Whatever. I'm going home."

---

taglist (reply/dm/ask in tags to be added or removed):

@spaceratprodigy @elvves @dekarios @aeducanthaig @edgepunk

@dickytwister @hiddenbeks @terendelev @tuntau @babylon5

@claudiawolf @velocitic

[torreshalstead]

On a crowded street in 1944 - Chapter 3

Summary - The four walls of Upton’s General Store were all Hailey knew although she longed to see what else life had to offer. When a handsome soldier walks through the door, she thinks he might just be the answer to the life she wants to have. But it was 1944 and the country was at war. Would fate smile on her or would her heart be another casualty of the war?

Chapters - 3/15

Notes - Wasn’t sure if I could find a time to post tomorrow so thought I’d do it today, hope you enjoy! AO3 Link

The conversation flowed easily between them, like water running down the street after a storm passed through. Hailey didn’t even notice the minutes spinning by into hours, perfectly content to just be present in the moment with him. There was something about Jay. She didn’t know what it was, maybe he was just the first boy she had ever had such a deep conversation with, but she didn’t want the night to end. She’d stay sat here forever if she could. And although she would never be so forthright and ask him, she truly hoped he felt the same.

‘So apart from being a secretary, which you will be by the way,’ Jay smiled kindly, ‘what else do you want from your life, Miss Upton?’

‘You ask the hard questions Mr Halstead,’ she quipped back. No one had ever asked her anything more than did she want to work in the store her whole life. And she usually answered that with a lie. Sometimes people didn’t actually want to know the truth, they just wanted the easy answers. But Jay wasn’t like that.

‘You deserve a chance to tell the hard answers,’ he responded and Hailey was struck again by how different he was to anyone else she had ever met.

‘I want to be happy,’ she said after a moment's thought.

‘Happy,’ Jay repeated with a soft smile. ‘I think that sounds like the most important thing.’

‘I mean alongside being a secretary I’d like to get married, have some children and enjoy being a mother, but I want to be happy above all else,’ she admitted, a little blush spreading to her cheeks.

‘Are you happy now?’ Jay asked.

‘Yes,’ Hailey said truthfully, surprised at her own honesty. ‘In this exact moment in time, I am.’ She smiled and hoped he understood everything she wasn’t saying. It wasn’t the done thing to tell a boy you had just met that he made you happy, even if every word of it was the truth. But she wanted him to know.

‘Then I am glad,’ Jay said.

‘What about you?’ Hailey asked, ‘when you come back home, what do you want to do?’ She heard Jay’s breath hitch and she knew why - there was no guarantee he would come back home. It was war after all, and no matter how happy someone made someone else, it was not a given, God knows it wasn’t a given. He answered her anyway though and Hailey was thankful.

‘I’d like to have an impact, you know,’ he said, flashing her his honest smile again. ‘Have a positive impact on those around me. I’m not quite sure how yet, but as long as I am doing something good, I’ll be happy.’

‘And that’s the most important thing,’ Hailey said softly, echoing his own words back to him.

‘That it is,’ he said with a smile. They fell back into the comfortable silence again, the air thick with everything they weren’t saying. It was Jay who broke the silence. ‘How many children do you want?’

Hailey thought if anyone else had asked her that question she would have told them it was inappropriate to ask or that she would be happy with how ever many God chose to grace her with, but not with Jay.

‘I’d like two, perhaps three,’ she pondered. ‘Being an only child can be lonely, and I wouldn’t want my child to grow up lonely.’ Hailey always imagined that in other families, it might not be so lonely growing up alone, but in hers, loneliness is exactly what she experienced. It was probably why she enjoyed reading so much, a chance to escape from the solitude.

‘Two or three sounds like a perfect number,’ Jay agreed. ‘Growing up with Will, well we had each other even when we didn’t have anybody else,’ he admitted, his shoulders raising in a small shrug.

‘What was it like having a brother?’ She asked, she twisted slightly so she was leaning against the back of the bench with her elbow and was facing him with more than just her head. She knew her mother would throw a fit if she saw her talking to a boy like this rather than remaining formal and in her words ‘proper’. But she didn’t necessarily want to stay formal with Jay, she was comfortable with him.

‘Like a fairground ride,’ he chuckled. ‘Some days it was all fun and games, you’ve got a built-in playmate but we were also both strong minded and could be stubborn so we’d get on each other’s nerves sometimes.’ Jay shrugged lightly. ‘He’s still my best friend though, I miss him a lot.’

Hailey had no words for that, she had never had a brother or had someone leave to go and fight overseas so she didn’t know what it was like to experience that longing. But she could see from the change in Jay’s facial features that it was painful, the emotion hitting him somewhere deep inside.

‘I’m sorry Jay,’ she said quietly and breaking all the protocol that had been drummed into her as a young girl, she bravely reached across and placed a hand on Jay’s arm. He looked down at it, and for a second she worried that he hadn’t wanted her to cross that line. Her worries were unfounded however when he reached up with his other hand and threaded his fingers through hers and let their joined hands fall onto the bench.

She had never held hands with anyone who wasn’t her mother or father before, and the last time she had done that had been years ago. But the feeling of his larger hand completely encompassing her smaller one was wonderful. She suddenly felt safe, that her father could appear right now and demand her back to the store and she might have the gumption to say no to him, to stand her ground with Jay’s hand in hers.

‘I think that’s another reason I signed up,’ he admitted. Clearly he was also getting the same boost of bravery from their touching skin that she was. ‘If we are at least on the same continent, fighting for the same thing, maybe I’ll feel close to him again.’ He sighed. ‘I know I’m supposed to say I did it to fight for freedom and my country, but there’s more to it than that.’

‘I think it’s as good a reason to sign up as any other,’ Hailey said warmly.

Jay glanced around her to the park surrounding them. ‘It’s late,’ he said, his smile faltering slightly. ‘I should walk you home before your mother wonders where you are.’

Hailey looked around too, the only light was now coming from the street lights and there were no longer any other occupants in the park. He was right, they shouldn’t be caught alone in the park together, she would never be permitted to leave the store until her father passed if they did. She nodded and unlaced her fingers to get up, straightening her skirt as she did so.

He offered her his arm and she smiled, happily sliding her hand through the crook of his elbow and allowing him to lead the way as they strolled towards the exit of the park. Hailey noticed he was walking significantly slower than he had when they had made their way in a few hours previously. She wasn’t complaining, she was suddenly aware that her time with Jay was limited, the minutes ticking by until she would have to say goodbye to him. And she didn’t want that time to arrive.

She had only met him today, but she’d read enough books to know sometimes it only takes a day. A day to feel everything she had ever wanted to feel. To feel everything she was never sure she would feel. That she might truly be feeling about the man whose arm she was currently clutching.

The streets that had been crowded when they had walked through earlier, were now almost empty. A couple of other couples were lingering under street lights, clearly Hailey wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to say goodnight.

He walked her to the store, stopping underneath the street light, the same place he had greeted her earlier - a full circle moment.

‘So you’ll write me?’ He asked, seemingly less confident than earlier.

‘I will,’ she said, a small smile gracing her lips.

‘I know it’s not manly to say, but I’ve had the most wonderful evening with you Hailey,’ he admitted and Hailey felt the blush on her cheeks rising to match the colour that had appeared on Jay’s freckled complexion.

‘I have too,’ she smiled. There was so much more that she wanted to say, but at the same time, she had no words to describe the complex emotions she was experiencing.

‘Would it be awfully forward of me to kiss you?’ He asked, his voice softer than a cloud and Hailey felt her stomach clench.

‘Probably,’ she whispered but before his expression had a chance to drop she added, ‘but I don’t care,’ she breathed out with a smile.

His smile grew, wider than she had seen it the whole night. He reached up to cradle her face in his hand, the rough skin of his thumb brushing against her soft cheek, electricity sparking at the contact. She was about to be kissed. For the first time in her life, a boy was going to kiss her.

He slowly moved in, cautious even though she had given him permission, his lips getting closer to hers with every second. Before she had a chance to panic that she didn’t know what you did when your lips connected with someone else's, his lips touched hers.

They were soft. Soft and perfect against her own. They were warmer than she thought they would be and the perfect amount of pressure. She could feel the breath exhaling from his nose against her cheek, and there was a tingling below her navel that she had never felt before. His hand was still in hers and her immediate reaction was to clutch it even tighter, as if to ground herself back to the present when her mind wanted to get lost in the kiss.

When he pulled back, it felt like both only a second had passed and that she had been experiencing that moment for a lifetime. He leant forward and rested his forehead against hers.

‘Wow,’ he said and she giggled. He pulled back, his face pulled into a mock offended expression. ‘Was my kiss funny to you Miss Upton?’ He sassed her.

‘Not at all,’ she said, shaking her head quickly. ‘I’ve just read about kisses taking your breath away and leaving you lost for words. I guess I never expected it to actually make a person feel like that.’

‘But it did,’ he said with a soft smile.

‘It did,’ she admitted, her eyes swimming with affection.

‘And now I shall have to bid you goodnight Miss Upton,’ he said, reluctantly letting go of her hand. ‘I shall never forget tonight.’

‘I shall remember it forever,’ she said, a far more romantic admission than she thought she would ever make. She watched him as he doffed his cap again, just like he had when he had greeted her that morning.

That morning felt so long ago now, that she was a completely different person than she had been when she had welcomed him to Upton’s General Store. She didn’t know how she would spend her time working behind that darn counter again now she knew what it was like to share a kiss with someone.

Jay turned to walk away but not before he smiled again at her, raising his hand to his chest and giving her a small nod. She knew what the gesture meant. He had stolen her heart as well in just a few short hours, and he was telling her she had his.

She waited until he was out of sight to let herself in through the back door, letting herself fall against it when it had closed, her fingers raising to her lips and the tears starting to prick at the corners of her eyes.

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Make My Wish Come True -- TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x F!Reader

Rating: Teen

Summary: Reader and Peter have been friends for about 2 years, ever since they met at a grief support group.

One night while Peter is at the Reader's apartment, their relationship changes for the better.

Warning/Tags: Post- Spiderman: NWH, so spoilers for that & TASM 1 & 2, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Reader is a nurse

Word Count: ~2,500

A/N: This is a Christmastime-set TASM!Peter fic I wrote after watching Tick... Tick... Boom back in 2021 and have just now decided to transfer over to Tumblr.

"I don't want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need, I don't care about the presents, underneath the Christmas tree…" Y/N sang to herself as she decorated a batch of cookies for the Christmas party at the clinic where she worked as a nurse. "I just want you for my own, more than you can ever know, make my wish come true…"

She poked her head out of the kitchen as she heard a knock on her wall, smiling as Spiderman, aka Peter Parker, her best friend (and the man she was secretly in love with), peeked in through her open window. 

She and Peter had known each other for about two years, having met through a grief support group. Y/N's fiancé, Aiden, had recently been killed in a car accident, while Peter had lost his girlfriend, Gwen, several years prior to that but obviously hadn't been ready to work through his grief until then.

Not long after Peter had joined the group he and Y/N had run into each other in the café next door to the community center where their meetings were held. Peter had offered to share his table in the crowded café with Y/N and they had gotten to talking. The next thing they knew three hours had passed and the café was closing. 

They exchanged numbers at that point and began having coffee together every week after their grief support meetings but still hadn't hung out outside of that bubble until Peter had called Y/N on the anniversary of Aiden's death to ask if she had wanted to go for a walk with him in Central Park.

She had agreed and met Peter in front of the Bethesda Fountain, where he had handed her a cup of coffee procured from a nearby coffee cart.

They had walked through the park together in comfortable silence, then had eaten dinner at a restaurant near Y/N's apartment.

Thank you for today, Y/N had said once Peter had walked her back to her apartment later that evening. I really appreciate it.

Peter had shrugged. It's nothing. Just figured you could use some company.

Y/N had shaken her head. It's not nothing to me. It's nice to have someone to talk to, someone who understands what it's like to lose someone you love. 

Peter had sighed. Yeah, the group has been helpful but it is nice to have one specific person you can talk to who really gets it, someone who's more like a… like a friend.

Y/N had smiled. Yeah. A friend.

They began hanging out a lot more after that and about 6 months into their friendship Y/N had been sitting in her apartment after a shift at the clinic when suddenly she heard a noise at her window. She had looked up, and to her surprise, Spiderman was hanging out outside her apartment. 

She had let him inside (because she wasn't about to leave Spiderman out in the cold) where he had explained that he had had a run-in with a particularly nasty villain and that his friend Peter had told him that he could go to Y/N if he ever needed medical attention since he couldn't exactly go to a hospital, then had muttered something about wondering 'if Peter 1 had ever been stabbed'.

She had patched up his side, no questions asked, and told him that fixing up Spiderman was the least she could do to thank him for all he had done for New York City and to tell Peter thanks for trusting her enough to help.

Things went on like that for several weeks until one night Spiderman came by with cuts on his lip and chin and above his eye.

None of those cuts look too deep or like they'll need stitches, Y/N had said, but I still can't clean them with your mask on. So if you want to wait until you get home to clean them it should be fine, I can give you some antiseptic and a couple of butterfly bandages.

Spiderman had hesitated, then slowly reached up and pulled his mask off, nervous brown eyes connecting with hers.

Y/N had smiled gently. There you are. Hi, Peter.

Peter had seemed genuinely surprised to see that Y/N wasn't surprised, and even more surprised to hear that Y/N had figured out Spiderman's identity that first night.

Y/N had shrugged. Honestly it wasn't that difficult. You and Spiderman have the same height, same build, same mannerisms, same voice even. It wasn't a stretch for someone who knows you really well to figure it out. I wasn't going to press though, I figured you'd tell me in your own time... or that you had your reasons if you didn't ever want to tell me.

Peter had wound up telling her the entire story as she cleaned the cuts on his face -- how he had been bitten by a radioactive spider as a teenager, about his Uncle Ben, how Gwen had really died (turns out that it wasn't exactly an accidental fall as he had said in group), and how it had taken getting sent to an alternate universe and saving another Spiderman's Gwen (whose name was actually MJ) in order to be able to get over his guilt of not being able to save his own.

Y/N's heart had broken for Peter. Thank you for trusting me with your secret, she had said, giving Peter's hand a gentle squeeze and pulling him into a hug.

Since there were no more secrets between them they had grown even closer, and eventually Y/N had found herself falling in love with Peter.

(Well, she supposed that was still one secret between them since she had no plans of ever actually telling Peter.)

Y/N sighed and shook herself out of her reverie. "Hey, Peter. Come on in."

Peter climbed through the window and pulled his mask off, then grinned. "Please, don't stop singing on my account."

Y/N chuckled. "I actually hate that song, it's just been stuck in my head because it was on repeat all day at the clinic." And it's ironic that you of all people caught me singing it considering the lyrics.

"Yikes. That's rough." 

Y/N's eyes flicked over the cuts on Peter's shoulder, forehead and cheek as he set his bag down and joined her in the kitchen. She knew that Peter healed from minor cuts and scratches much faster than the average person, but she still insisted on patching him up whenever possible. It makes me feel like I'm not completely useless, you know? she had said at the time. Like I can still make a difference. 

Peter had nodded. Yeah, I totally understand.

Y/N gestured to the cookies. "Give me 1 second to finish with these and I'll clean those cuts for you."

"Thanks." Peter reached for one.

Y/N playfully swatted his hand away. "Hey, those aren't for you!"

She pointed to a plate of cookies that were either misshapen or that she had messed the decoration up on (and if one or two were messed up because she had been distracted by thoughts of Peter and wasn't paying attention, shut up, no they weren't). " Those are yours."

"Ooh, thanks."

"You're welcome."

Peter bit into one and let out an appreciative moan. "Wow, these are amazing."

Y/N's face heated. "Thanks."

Peter went into the bathroom to change out of his Spiderman suit while Y/N decorated the last of the cookies. 

Right as she was finishing up her bathroom door opened and Peter walked out, clad only in sweatpants that rode low on his hips and looking like a whole snack.

Y/N's mouth went dry as she trailed her eyes from his bare feet up to his wet hair. Holy thirst trap, Batman.

Peter ran a hand through his hair in what Y/N had come to recognize over the years as a nervous gesture. "I, uh, I took a quick shower. Hope you don't mind."

Y/N blinked. Shit, he caught me staring. "Oh, uh, no, that's fine."

She gestured over to her bed. "I still have to clean those cuts though. Have a seat and I'll be right there."

As Peter went to sit she busied herself with boxing up the cookies, putting Peter's into a container for him to take home.

When she had finished she moved to the sink and washed her hands, then retrieved her first aid kit.

She sat next to Peter at the foot of her bed, rummaging around in her first aid kit and pulling out a tube of antibiotic ointment, some alcohol wipes, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, some gauze and medical tape, and a couple of bandages. "Okay, let me see."

She eyed the jagged cut on Peter's shoulder. "What happened here?"

"Ran into a garbage can dodging a bullet," Peter explained. "Piece of metal plating was sticking out and I didn't notice."

"Oof. Ok, I definitely want to disinfect this one first then."

She placed some cotton pads under Peter's wound.

Peter hissed and flinched. "Ah!" 

Y/N jumped back, raising her hands. "Shit, I'm so sorry, are you okay?"

Peter relaxed and grinned. "Ah, I'm just messing with you."

Y/N punched Peter in his uninjured shoulder. "You ass, I seriously thought I had hurt you!"

Peter laughed. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I couldn't resist."

Y/N shook her head and placed the cotton pads under his wound again.  "Hold these for me, you dork."

She poured a bit of peroxide on Peter's shoulder, biting her lip as Peter hissed at the burn. "Yeah, I know, I'm sorry."

Peter shook his head. "It's okay."

Y/N patted the area around the wound dry and dressed it with a gauze pad and medical tape, letting her hands linger for a few seconds longer than necessary under the guise of smoothing the tape out. "There."

She then opened one of the alcohol wipes and began to clean the cut on Peter's cheek.

Peter grinned. "Will I live, nurse?"

Y/N huffed out a laugh. "Don't worry, you'll be good as new in no time."

She put a dot of ointment on a bandage and affixed it to the spot. "Ok, now the other one."

She stood and moved in front of Peter so she could see his forehead better. "Here, turn this way for me."

She opened another wipe and began to dab at Peter's forehead, willing herself to stay focused on the task at hand and not at just how damn good Peter looked and smelled.

Peter must've brought his body wash with him, because he smelled like mahogany, coconut, and an undercurrent of something Y/N couldn't quite place her finger on but was uniquely Peter .

"You know, Gwen patched me up once," Peter suddenly said.

"Mmm?" Y/N hummed. "Oh really?" 

Peter nodded. "After my first big fight with Dr. Conners. I had gotten scratched up pretty badly and didn’t know where else to go, so I went to her place. She had to make an excuse to her dad as to why she didn’t want to come downstairs for ice cream.”

Y/N chuckled as she picked up her ointment and another bandage. "I'm sure that was an interesting conversation." 

"It was." Peter paused for so long that Y/N thought he was done with the conversation, but then he added, "When Gwen was patching me up she was so gentle, so caring, that despite the pain, despite the worry, all I wanted to do in that moment was kiss her.”

He sighed. "See, Y/N, the thing is, I  -- well, I…"

Y/N knew where this was going. He doesn’t want you to patch him up anymore. The memories of Gwen doing it are too painful. She took a deep breath as she placed the bandage on his forehead. “Peter --”

“I also feel that way with you.”

Y/N froze, still staring at Peter's forehead. "What?"

Peter chuckled. "At first I thought maybe I had some sort of weird medical kink or something, but considering the fact that I want to kiss you all the time and not just when you're patching me up, I--"

"What?" 

"I'm-- I'm sorry if I've made this weird," Peter added. "We can just forget about it if you want."

Y/N finally looked down at Peter, who was nervously looking everywhere but at Y/N. She shook her head. "The only thing that would be weird now is if you didn't kiss me, considering the fact that I also happen to want to kiss you all the time."

A slow grin spread across Peter's face as he looked back at her. "Really?"

Y/N nodded with a smile of her own. "Yeah."

Peter reached up and cupped Y/N cheek, then tilted his face up.

Y/N's eyes fluttered closed as warm lips brushed against her own.

Holy shit, I'm actually kissing Peter.  

She linked her arms around Peter's neck as he wrapped his free arm around her waist to pull her closer and kiss her more firmly.

They broke apart and Y/N blinked down at Peter, who was looking at her in the dim lighting like she was something precious, something to be desired.  

"Come to Aunt May's with me for Christmas," he said. 

Y/N nodded. "Yeah, that'd be great, thanks."

Peter grinned. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'd love to."

"Good. Aunt May's been wanting to meet you."

"Same here." Y/N had never met Peter's aunt, but Peter spoke extremely fondly of her and mentioned her often. "I'll have to bring her a gift, of course. What does she like?"

"You don't need to bring her anything."

"Well I don't want to bring yours and not have anything for her."

Peter huffed out a laugh. "Trust me, your presence will be enough of a gift."

Y/N shook her head. "I at least need to bring a hostess gift."

"Then how about dessert?"

"That sounds fine."

"Okay. I'll let Aunt May know you're coming." 

"Okay."

Peter bit his lip. "Also, uh, I know we already have plans to go ice skating in the park tomorrow, but what do you say to making it an official first date?"

Y/N's heart fluttered and she ran her hands through Peter's hair. "I'd love to."

Peter tilted his face up towards hers again. "Just for the record, I really want to kiss you when you do that."

Y/N grinned and ran her fingers through Peter's hair again.

She huffed out a laugh as Peter grabbed her and pulled her down onto the bed, pressing his lips to hers once again.

(All I want for Christmas is you.)

[tears-and-smiles-ao3]

What He Deserves

Geraskier, rated T, cw: angst

Geralt stared at the Dandelion poking out through the slowly melting ice, and his heart sank.

Yet another reminder, a message from destiny herself.

Clenching his hands around Roach's reins, Geralt pulled his horse forward and away from the obnoxiously bright flower that reminded him of Jaskier.

You sent him away. Told him you didn't want him, that he was at fault for every wrong in your life.

He wasn't, though, and Geralt knew that. The only person at fault that day was him. Not Yen and certainly not Jaskier.

Melitele, Geralt missed him. Just like that sunshine personified flower, Jaskier could light up a room, fill any moment with so much chatter and laughter that Geralt couldn't help the small upturn in his lips.

You sent him away. You deserve to feel this pain and more.

Geralt swallowed hard and closed his eyes. He deserved this hurt. Gods, Jaskier should scream at him, tell him how shit of a friend he'd been.

He'd take anything if it meant Jaskier would be back in his life, but Geralt couldn't gather enough courage to face him.

Coward.

He was. He knew that inner voice was right. Maybe that's why he fought with destiny.

Roach huffed and Geralt's eyes snapped open. A cart laden with goods was up ahead, one of its wheels bent and twisted.

It couldn't be fixed, Geralt knew that without getting any closer, and he doubted the person would want a witcher's help, even if they are in the middle of nowhere.

Ask, you cretin.

Geralt sighed. Squaring his shoulders, he walked towards the cart with intentions of helping if asked.

The man had a mop of brown hair and a blue shirt. He cursed and kicked the dirt beside the cart. For a second, Geralt thought it was going to him, Jaskier, but why would the bard be a cart driver?

If it was him, would you just walk away like the monster you are?

That made Geralt stop still. Would he? If Jaskier was in danger, would he just walk away because it was too much for his heart to bear if he was rejected?

Always running away from your problems.

No. He wouldn't do that. He didn't want Jaskier to be hurt.

You did it anyway.

Yes, he did it anyway. Fuck.

Walking forward again, he watched the irate man kicking the cart.

Roach snorted, and Geralt had to agree. Kicking the thing wouldn't help. Not at all.

"Fucking piece of shit," the man grumbled under his breath. He leaned over the cart, head bowed and not paying any attention to the world around him.

When he finally notices that Geralt is right there beside him, he jumps, squeaking loudly.

"Holy- balls," the man swears. One of his hands rests above his heart as it thuds fast in his chest.

"Your wheel is broken," Geralt says, pointing at said thing like the man hadn't noticed.

"Bleeding tits, I know that," the man growls, kicking the wheel once more. "How on earth can I get everything to town before nightfall?"

Geralt frowned.

Sunset was in two hours.

The wheel was broken, it wasn't going anywhere. Not in its current state.

It needed something to keep the broken part from bending.

Geralt scratched his head, staring at the wood, while the man ranted in the background. Words bled into one another, with little room for breathing. It was impressive, even if Geralt couldn’t admit it.

It must've made something ping in his head, because suddenly he stood up, knowing exactly what to do.

He could use willow to twist in between the spokes. It wouldn't last long, and the cart would still lurch. He would have to walk beside the cart and adjust it as they went, but maybe it would keep it steady enough for the journey.

"I have an idea. I won't be long," Geralt said. It shut the man up, who looked at him like he was mad, but he nodded his understanding.

It was only when Geralt wandered over to the river, knife out to cut some willow branches, that he realised.

See how much you miss him. It would be him filling your life with endless chatter, and see how it helped today. You never should have sent him away.

Geralt dropped his head, staring at the muddy riverbank. He was a fool and a coward and he deserved every harsh word.

It was only the truth.

Stripping the willow branches was easy. Threading them through the wheel spokes wasn't hard either.

Persuading the man to move the cart and try it was, though. He folded his arms across his chest and outright refused.

"What if Maise here gets hurt?" the man pointed to his horse.

Geralt's eyebrows rose, but he accepted the man had a point.

"Roach will do it. Means I can walk beside her and make sure the wheel is okay."

He half assumed there would be more complaining, but now that Geralt was fully in charge of this expedition, and the man’s horse wasn't involved, he seemed content to walk ahead and lead them to town.

It was a long trip. Sunset had gone down ages ago, and they'd had to stop three times so far.

He could see the town ahead. Probably half an hour more to walk.

Roach was tired, and bored. Geralt couldn't blame his girl. Petting her mane, he urged her forward once more.

She grumbled, but Geralt slipped her a sugar lump and she went happily, smelling more in his pocket.

"That's it, girl. We are almost there," he said encouragingly.

It had been tough on her. He might have to stay in the town two nights to make sure Roach got enough of a rest.

The town gates came into view. The man dutifully ran forward, calling on the guards and explaining why they were late, and please open the gates, thank you.

Geralt was impressed. He was charming, like Jaskier.

Jaskier can do better than you.

Yes, he definitely could. It didn't stop Geralt's heart from hurting.

When the gates opened, Geralt was relieved. It would mean Roach could stay at a proper stable. She deserved it, even if he didn't deserve any comforts.

Once inside, the man directed them to his house. Geralt could have stood back and let the man empty his wares himself, but he just couldn't. He helped.

After that, the man led them to the centre of town, over to the woodworker. The shop wouldn't open till the morning, but the man pulled out the willow branches and the cart slumped once more.

"Can't be too careful," he explained.

It wasn't going anywhere. Anyone who tried would be heard a mile off in this quiet town.

"Is there a tavern? Stables?" Geralt asked.

"Yeah, up ahead," the man pointed northwards. "The Ice Maiden, a great tavern."

Geralt huffed a laugh, and the man patted him on his shoulder.

"Don't let the name fool ya, it's a great place. Very friendly. Come on, I'll show ya."

Nodding, Geralt walked behind the man, Roach in tow. It didn't take long to get there, lively music playing inside.

"Stables are round to the right. I'll let the innkeeper know you'll be needing a bed for the night."

"Thanks," Geralt said, nodding his head in agreement.

He found the stables easily. There was one stall left, so the place must be busy. A mark of a good tavern, but not one that would be quiet.

You liked the noise earlier.

He did. The noise had helped him think, and he had a lot of thinking to do.

Like, how could he apologise to Jaskier, let the bard rant and then allow him to walk away.

It was the only way Geralt could see it working. Any other ideas about the bard staying, or accepting his apology, seemed like fantasy.

You're a fool.

Swallowing hard, Geralt focused on getting Roach sorted. He gave her a few more sugar lumps and she settled, calmly grazing on the feed Geralt laid out.

He took his time, though he knew he shouldn't. The man might have persuaded the innkeeper, but when they saw he was a witcher, they might not feel as happy about letting him stay.

He couldn't put it off forever.

It was definitely times like this that Geralt missed Jaskier the most.

Walking round to the front door, Geralt almost wanted to be denied the luxury of a soft bed and be forced to sleep out in the stables near Roach.

Just at the door, Geralt stopped, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He could do this. He’d faced hate before. The worst that would happen wasn’t that bad, after all.

The music was muffled, a lulling sound that reminded him so much of Jaskier.

Of the sing-songy twit, as Yennefer had said one time.

The voice sounded so familiar. Geralt could almost let himself believe that it was his bard.

He’s not your bard.

He’s not. If he was at any point, he never would be again.

He’d fucked up. He deserved this pain. It was his to bear.

Sighing to himself, Geralt pushed open the door. The music hit him in the face like a ton of bricks.

There on the stage was Jaskier. His hair was longer. He was wearing a hat. Gone was his usual attire of bright colours, and instead he wore a burgundy coat and a gold waistcoat.

The bard danced around the tables, singing into people’s faces. The audience cheered, singing along with him, and Geralt could almost smile at seeing Jaskier in his element.

That was until he heard it.

“At the end of my days when I’m through

“No word that I’ve written will ring quite as true as ‘burn’

“‘Burn, butcher, burn’.”

No. Fuck. Jaskier couldn't be singing those words. He couldn't mean them.

He does. He means every single one of them because it’s what you are.

Geralt crumbled, his armour clanging against the stone and sawdust floor. The noise was deafening in his ears.

The singing stopped abruptly, but the music carried on for a few more beats. Then silence filled the space.

Someone was walking towards him. Someone was standing in front of him.

Geralt risked looking up into the blue eyes he knew he would meet.

Fuck, there was Jaskier, and there were tears in his eyes.

How could he have caused this? Why had he said those things to his bard?

You're pathetic. Snivelling on the ground when you should be kneeling, begging for forgiveness. Forgiveness you won't get, but have to ask for anyway.

Right. Geralt closed his eyes for a second, then got up onto his knees.

"Jaskier," he began, but he didn't get to say anything else.

"I'm not doing this here," Jaskier whispered loudly. "Get up."

Shaking his head, Geralt remained where he was, hand reaching up in pleading.

“Tell me to go, and I will.”

“Get up,” Jaskier hissed, leaning over and talking in a low voice directly into his ear. “I’ll tell you to go when I’m ready. Follow me.”

The bard didn’t wait for him to say anything. Jaskier just walked past him, like he meant nothing, and truly that is what he was worth.

Butcher. Killer. Monster.

He was all of them. Helping one man with his cart didn’t change what he’d done. It never would.

A public flogging is what he deserved. It wouldn’t hurt, not really, his healing wouldn’t allow for it to hurt much, but it would bring him low, where he belonged.

Everyone’s eyes were on him. He didn’t dare look up, but he could feel them on him. He stood up, eyes trained on the ground, and turned around.

That’s when the whispers started.

“It’s him. The one the bard sings about. Jaskier should throw him out on his ear.”

“I’d have kicked him out the second he stepped in, if I’d known. How can he hurt Jaskier that way?”

How, wasn’t the best question. He’d hurt Jaskier because nothing good or nice should ever be within his grasp. It all just turns to dust.

Why he’d hurt Jaskier, well, he knew the answer to that, too.

Geralt kept on walking, letting the whispers fill his mind. When he got to the stairs, he looked up and there was Jaskier.

His sad eyes. A distressed look on his face.

Jaskier turned, walking up the stairs. Geralt followed him, every step creaking unbearably as they made their ascent. It felt like it took forever, like the whole world had ended and it was just Jaskier, unbelievably, and him at the end of time.

Fanciful nonsense.

“Get in and shut the door,” Jaskier ordered when they reached the door of his room.

Geralt obeyed, quicker than he expected. This was it. This was the moment Geralt would get everything he deserved and more.

“I’m sorry,” he started apologising, but when he looked up, Jaskier’s angry expression made him stop talking.

“You hurt me, Geralt. I spent all my life trying to help you, make people see the good in you, and you hurt me.”

Jaskier stepped back, his legs hitting against the bed and forcing him to stop.

“I just wanted you to like me, to see me as a friend, and you couldn’t even do that. What was so unlikable in me that you had to do that? Huh? Why did you let me hang around, then discard me on a mountain. A fucking mountain, Geralt.”

He was shouting now. Everyone downstairs would hear, not that Geralt minded. They already thought the worst of him.

“Got nothing to say. Typical.”

Jaskier turned around, his shoulders shaking.

Fuck, I made him cry.

Not for the first time.

No, not for the first time. Jaskier had been hurt so much by him and yet here he was, hurting him all over again.

“Jaskier, I don’t want you to cry. Not over me.”

The bard whipped around at speed. He stepped forward, pointing a finger into his chest.

“You don’t get to choose how I feel,” he snapped. “You never cared. Why care now?”

Geralt let himself be pushed backwards till his back hit the door. “I’m- Jaskier, I-”

“Fuck off, witcher.”

“Please,” Geralt pleaded, dropping to his knees. “Please, I need you.”

Jaskier scoffed. “Sure, that’s how you get me back, telling me you need me. Leave. I’m over this.”

Those eyes weren’t cruel. They were begging Geralt to do as he was asked. Even now, Jaskier didn’t think he had the right to ask this, but he did, and more.

“Okay,” Geralt acquiesced, standing up. “I’ll give you some space, but tomorrow, would you see Roach? She misses you.”

That gave Jaskier pause. A small smile appeared on his lips for a second, then disappeared. His face deathly pale with exhaustion.

“Yes, okay,” Jaskier agreed. “Just, leave me alone tonight.”

It takes everything in Geralt to nod and leave the room. He’s barely closed the door when he hears Jaskier sobbing.

He doesn’t even notice the glares from the tavern patrons as he leaves.

All he does is lay his bedroll outside Roach’s pen and try his best to fall asleep.

Images of a dandelion poking through the ice fills his mind.

Destiny had brought him here. He shouldn’t hope. He shouldn’t.

He couldn’t help it.

Fuck.

[awkward-halfhug]

to soften rough edges | gally x oc

summary: Subject B10 Rosalind Franklin (Frankie) was supposed to be sent to Group B. Due to a mixup by an incompetent WICKED employee, she was sent to Group A, the all-boys maze. How will her unexpected appearance affect the variables, the Glade, and the lives of everyone in it? For one Glader in particular, Frankie might be changing, not only his present, but his entire life going forward. And not because he can't get her to stop following him around like a baby duck....Well, not only

(also on my ao3)

chapter 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

1.8k

"gap-tooth smiles and flirty cooks"

Newt had left them shortly upon setting the girl up with her hammock, claiming he needed to check on Alby. The she-bean thanked him quietly and he nodded to her. Newt passed Gally by with a klunk-eating grin and a tip of his imaginary hat. Slinthead.

"So what do all those words mean?" The greenie sat on her hammock and kicked her legs back and forth.

"What words?"

"The ones you guys kept saying. Greenie, she-bean, shank, shuck, slinthead? What do they mean?"

"Oh. They're just words we made up. Kinda like slang, I guess. Greenie is what we call the new arrivals that come up in the box, like you. She-bean they just made up because you're a girl. First one to come here. And the rest are sort of curse words. Calling someone a shank is like calling them a punk. A slinthead is like a jerk or an idiot. I don't know how to explain shuck, but it's derogatory." Gally scratched the back of his neck. He was glad he didn't have to explain klunk to her.

"Oh, okay. I think I get it." She nodded, then her eyebrows scrunched up. "Wait, the first one to come here? Do you mean...do you mean there's no other girls here but me? It's just boys? Me and boys? Those boys I just saw back there? Is that what you're saying?" Her eyes were wide again. She looked panicked.

"Calm down, greenie." Gally felt like sighing. He had a feeling he'd be saying that a lot, at least for the first few days. He wasn't used to mollycoddling the greenies so he didn't really know what else to say. But he could imagine this would be hard for her, being a girl. It's hard for all of them. Usually he doesn't care so much, but for some reason today he just couldn't bear the fear on this greenie's face.

"Yeah, you're the only girl. But like I told you in the box, they're not that bad. They wouldn't hurt you."

Well...he actually didn't know that for sure. None of these shanks had ever seen a girl before, nevermind live with one day in and day out. He couldn't exactly predict how each and every guy in a group of around 40 would react. How they'd look at her, act towards her.

Gally paused, considering. He'd been so busy with the crates and calming her down he hadn't had the chance to really look at her. In the light of day, with the sun filtering through the trees above them, he could see her clearly.

Her eyes were a dark grey, and they were expressive. Her hair was the color of those walnuts the Creators had sent up last month. It contrasted with her almost-too-pale skin perfectly. She wasn't small, but all her edges were soft and delicate-looking. Her face was rounded slightly, her shoulders, her arms, everything about her looked soft.  Gally felt like groaning to himself but held it in. This might be a problem. She was pretty.

"Even if anyone tried," he amended his statement, "I'd..." Gally cleared his throat. "I'd protect you, remember? So don't worry about it."

Gally had no idea why he had promised her that. That's not something he goes around doing, protecting people. In the Glade, they all had to toughen up fast or they could get themselves killed. Maybe it was because she was a girl? Looking at her in that box, her eyes wide and trying to make herself as small as possible? Something inside him ached in a way he wasn't used to. Before he knew it he was kneeling down to her level and talking all soft and reassuring her.

And what was with her agreeing to trust him so quickly? He knew he'd asked, but he'd expected to have to do at least a little convincing. He wasn't exactly sure what he would've said, but he would've thought of something.

Were all girls like that? Just blindly trusting whoever they come across? He sort of hoped not. He knew she was safe with him, but he couldn't be certain about every shank here. Still, he could admit, it felt good, having that girl's trust. And it made him feel even more protective of her. Which was good, considering he'd already promised to protect her. But like he said, it had him acting weird. 

Newt noticed, because of course he did. The shank couldn't pass up an opportunity to tease him. He didn't get many opportunities, Gally didn't usually give him any. Now he was gonna have a field day, Gally just knew it. And if the other guys found out how he was acting?

Gally had to get this under control. This she-bean had him feeling off-kilter is all. Today had started all weird anyway. Well, actually it had started off good, which was weird. He'd slept well, Frypan's food had tasted even better than usual, and none of these shanks had ticked him off yet. So maybe that's why he'd been acting all weird. Maybe it had nothing to do with the greenie at all.

He'd been too easy on her. Gally wasn't soft, he didn't go easy on the greenies, or anyone for that matter. But especially the greenies. They needed to toughen up. She needed to toughen up, or she wouldn't survive here. No more nice-guy act. He'd protect her from the guys but that was it.

"Gally?" The she-bean said. Looks like she might've been talking to him while he was lost in his thoughts. Great.

"Yeah greenie?" Gally heaved a sigh like he was suddenly put-out just by talking to her.

She tucked some of her hair behind her ear. It fell back in her face. "Thank you. I'd be a lot more scared if it wasn't for you. I'm glad you're here."

Gally had never been glad he was here. Not one second since he woke up in that box years ago had he ever been glad he was here. Ever. But her eyes were shining with gratitude and he felt his chest tighten. For the first time ever, he actually was grateful to be in this shuck place, if only so she could feel less alone. So she could look at him like that.

"Er, right. You're welcome, I guess." He cleared his throat.

She was smiling at him now. A wide smile. She had a dimple in her left cheek, and several of her top teeth had little gaps between them, but somehow she managed to not look like a five-year-old with them. In fact, they just made her look prettier.

He needed to get out of there, now.  He had work to do. His builders needed instructions, he had to finish that table for the homestead, and frypan would be serving lunch soon.

...Did the she-bean need help finding the homestead?

Nope. That was her problem. She could find her own way around this place, same as any other shank.

Frypan was just setting out his pots and pans to get started on lunch when Gally reached the homestead.

"Hey, Fry. What's on the menu?"

Frypan didn't even glance up as he replied. "Nothing yet. Come back at lunchtime and maybe you'll find out then." He resumed his search for ingredients, clearly expecting Gally to take his dismissal for what it was.

Gally cleared his throat. "Alright then. Just thought you'd wanna meet the new Greenie, but if you wanna wait till the bonfire, suit yourself." 

Gally made to leave, and the she-bean made to follow, when Frypan's head snapped up to finally look at them. He dropped the can he was holding with a clatter.

"What? Wait! Hold on, hold on, hold on." In the blink of an eye, Fry had scrambled around the counter, straightened his apron and jut his hand out toward the girl in question.

"Hi there. The name's Siggy, but you can call me Fry. Or Siggy. Or Frypan. Most people call me Frypan. Whatever you want to call me is fine."

"Fry." Gally looked pointedly at the hand that Frypan was still grasping. Frypan flushed and dropped the greenie's hand like it burned.

"Sorry. Just excited I guess." Frypan took a couple steps back to give the poor girl some space. She looked overwhelmed.

"S'okay. It's nice to meet you Fry." She smiled that gap-toothed smile of hers. "Or Siggy. Or Frypan. That's a lot of options, I'm not sure what to call you. Can I call you all of them? Like at different times? Cuz like, sometimes you might seem more like a Siggy and sometimes you might seem more like a Frypan. You know?"

The girl was rambling. It was a little funny to watch, but Gally had a feeling if he didn't step in, she'd be going on for a while. And he really did have things to do.

"Greenie?" Gally cut in. Her head whipped around to face him with lightning speed. The sudden image of a puppy popped into his head, and he had to stifle laugh or risk explaining it.

"Yeah, Gally?"

Gally felt a smile tug at his lips at how she said his name. Technically, it was the same way the guys would say it, but from her it sounded different somehow. Better. Which was ridiculous, obviously. Gally shook that thought out of his head as well.

"We better leave Frypan to his duties. He doesn't like it when us shanks pester him for food when it's not mealtime. Isn't that right, Fry?" Gally raised his eyebrows at Frypan.

Frypan was already shaking his head in denial before Gally had finished speaking. "Don't listen to him babygirl. Kitchen's always open for you. Any time, day or night, you just say the word and Fry's got you covered. Now what are you hungry for?"

The greenie was beaming at Frypan and peppering him with words of gratitude and he was lapping it up. Gally's appetite was dwindling by the second.

Gally tuned out as Frypan started listing food options to the girl. Wasn't he supposed to be letting her figure her way around this place herself? Wasn't that the plan?

He could leave her here with Frypan. Gally knew Fry wouldn't do anything to hurt her. And Fry clearly wouldn't mind. Gally rolled his eyes at his own thoughts. Babygirl? What was that Fry? His friend had some explaining to do when they were alone.

Regardless, she was safe here. Gally wasn't all that hungry anymore, and he had a table to build.

"Gally, what do you think?" The bubbly voice broke into his thoughts. He didn't have an answer for her though, because he wasn't listening.

"About what?"

"Sandwiches or stew?" She looked up at him with expectant eyes, like this was a weighty decision and his opinion would be an important deciding factor.

"Uh, sandwiches I guess."

The girl nodded seriously and turned to Fry to submit their lunch requests. She looked back at Gally and smiled.

Gally sat down to eat.

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging, it means a lot ♡

[bad-at-names-and-faces]

Harvest

ao3

ffn

chapter index

Frederick looked down as he and his brothers picked up the pumpkins from one of the farms on the hill above the town. 

“That’s a ship from Corona,” he said while loading the pumpkins onto the wagon. 

“How can you tell from all the way up here?” Anton asked. 

“See the flag?” Frederick pointed.

Anton and Peder both stared down at the harbor. 

“Oh, it is,” Peder agreed. “I never really looked at any of the ships that closely.”

The twins ran off to get the remaining pumpkins from the farmer, and Frederick started getting the wagon ready to return to the castle.

“I bet you that’s Henry,” Frederick said as they began to ride down the hill into town.

“Wasn’t he just here?” Anton asked.

“That was last summer,” Frederick reminded him. “It’s been two and a half months since then.”

“Oh, right.”

“So, are they getting married now?” Peder asked.

“I doubt it,” Frederick said. “Not from what everyone was saying. Maybe next summer?”

***

Henry couldn’t quite remember how he left Inga’s room, but he had reluctantly followed her parents as the maid was sent back in to help Inga dress for the day, and they led him into the study. 

“I… I should probably write to my family,” he said. Nobody had said anything for quite some time.

Inga’s mother was the first to speak up. “Please let me know when you finish, and I’ll ring for Kai to send it out with today’s post.

“Thank you,” Henry said, studiously avoiding eye contact with anyone. 

He worded the letter as vaguely as possible, only making clear that the wedding was going to happen as soon as possible, but not giving the reason. He wanted to send a letter to his mother that would get there more quickly, but not with Inga’s parents watching him.  Also a letter to Hilde. She would surely guess.

He signed and sealed the letter, and sat at the desk looking at the wall.

“Here it is,” he said. 

Inga’s mother rang for the steward, who showed up quickly, accepting the envelope.

“His Highness’s room is ready,” he mentioned. “Do you need any help in finding it?”

“If I may be excused?” Henry asked.  If the room was the same as the one he had stayed in the summer before, he would need no help at all. 

“We’ll let you know if we need you,” Inga’s mother said with an air of formality, which he knew was covering up whatever she might actually be thinking about the situation. 

He followed the steward to the room which was so familiar now, and burned into his memories.

Henry sat down at the table in the room and got his own paper out.  First, he wrote a letter to his mother, merely a slightly more informal version of what he had just written, still not mentioning exactly why the wedding would be happening so soon, but alerting her that it would be happening as soon as they could make it to Arendelle.  Then, before sending the first one, he began a letter to his sister.

Dear Hilde,

I don’t know if this letter will surprise you or not, but Inga and I will likely be getting married before I return to Corona. We will try to make it a proper wedding, as I know you’ve told me what you think about me renouncing my claim and leaving you as the sole heir. I promise I will do my duty. I will leave the other details for a later time. 

Your Brother,

Henry

Henry sent off the two letters from the window, and the wind seemed to guess at the secret he was keeping from his own family.  

He heard the door opening.

"James?" he asked. 

"Yes, Your Highness," his valet replied, walking over to Henry’s wardrobe in order to put away the clothes he had brought along.

“Did I…  Did you pack that suit, you know the one?”

“I did, in fact,” James smiled,  “I was actually surprised you didn’t ask days ago, but one never knows when one might need to dress for utmost formality, particularly in your position, Your Highness.”

“Thank goodness,” Henry replied.

“I have not been informed of any occasions requiring formal dress, but do you have a particular reason for inquiring?”

“The wedding is going to happen,” Henry said.

“Soon?” James asked.

“Yes, we’re not entirely sure when it will be, the council hasn’t met yet, of course I only just returned this morning…”

“I had understood the plans were for next summer. Is there a reason for the change?”

Henry looked away.

“Of course,” James nodded. “I was afraid of that.”

“I didn’t say-” 

“Then what is the reason?”

“I mean, it is… that… Inga just found out today.”

“I see,” James nodded.

“Do you think they’ll suspect?  My parents, that is… I know Hilde will probably guess right away.  She’ll tell me as much, I just know it.”

“Your Highness,” James said, slowly walking over, “if they don’t suspect at first, they’ll have no doubts later on.”

“And then what?”

“People will lose interest and find the next thing to occupy their attention.  Some people will bring it up whenever it serves a purpose.  I shouldn’t worry if I were you.  As far as youthful indiscretions go, this was a mild one, not to mention a common one.”

“Youthful indiscretions? You make it sound like I was… in the habit of doing such things.”  Henry stood up, facing James, and then walked past his valet to the wardrobe, mindlessly looking through his suits hanging there.

“Yes, but you’re not married yet.  Until that happens, it’s important not to let too many people know.  A few people will figure it out quickly enough, but most people can’t be bothered.  Just don’t give them any proof.”’

“You figured it out quickly enough.”

James gave him a look.

Henry turned around, looking over his shoulder at James standing by the window. He sighed. 

“Of course you suspected,” Henry said.

Henry walked back over to his desk and sat down, opening an empty page of his sketchbook but feeling no motivation to draw anything.  James continued unpacking.  Henry’s thoughts began processing everything from the morning, now that the shock was wearing off. What were he and Inga going to do once they were married?  They hadn’t thought this out.  They hadn’t even agreed where they would live yet.  They hadn’t even discussed it.  They could travel back and forth, he supposed, but Inga might not like that. She had mentioned how terrible sailing had been for her.  It would be nice if they had some place that would be their own, but what?  Where?  Money wasn’t an issue, that much was true.  

***

Hilde sat on the balcony overlooking the city of Corona, reading a book she had recently acquired. All of a sudden, a gust of wind blew in, stopping almost as soon as it started, and a letter deposited itself in her open book.

It was from Henry. He hadn’t bothered writing during his voyage so far, so why now?  She was hesitant to read it, and was briefly relieved that it seemed positive; no one was sick or dying or hurt, he was just excited about getting married. Except then she reread the letter. He would be getting married before he returned to Corona, and they would try to make it a proper wedding?

Hilde closed the letter inside her book and went to find her parents. She checked the royal study, and her grandfather was there with some advisors.

“Clothilde, come in!” he bellowed. 

“Sorry, Grandfather, but I’m in a bit of a hurry. Have you seen my mother?”

One of the advisors looked up. “Your Highness, your parents are having a luncheon with some distinguished visitors.”

“Who?” Hilde replied. 

Her grandfather waved his hand. “My dear, if it is important, you may interrupt your parents’ lunch.”

Hilde ran toward the dining room, and found her mother alone outside reading a letter.

“Mother, I was told you were having a luncheon?”

“Yes, but I just received a letter… it’s from your brother.”

Hilde considered her words carefully. “What does he say?”

Her mother looked at her and then back at the letter, beginning to mindlessly crumple it in her hands.

“May I see the letter, Mother?” she asked. “He sent me one just now, too. I can’t imagine he would say anything to you that I haven’t seen.”

Her mother handed the letter over. 

Dear Mother,

There will be a letter arriving in the official post next week, but I would like to see you all sooner than that if it is at all possible. Inga and I will be getting married before I return to Corona, and if I hear word from you, we can schedule the wedding so that you can attend. Please let me know.

Love,

Your Son,

Henry

“He told me he was getting married, he didn’t ask me about coming to the wedding,” Hilde commented.

“Why is he getting married so soon?” her mother whispered. 

Just then, her father came out. 

“You’ve been out here a while, sweetheart, what’s going on?” he asked.

“Henry is getting married in Arendelle,” Hilde told him.  “And apparently he’d like us to all come. I have no idea how we’d let him know soon enough to schedule anything.”

“Oh,” her father muttered.

“I’ll write back to him, he’ll know by this evening,” her mother said.

“I thought Arendelle didn’t have telegraph lines yet,” Hilde said.

“Henry didn’t tell you how he sent you the letter, didn’t he?” her father asked.

“No.” Hilde knew that there was something Henry knew about sending the letters, but now she realized she might be the only one who didn’t know how it worked.

“So,” her father said, turning to her mother. “Are you going to tell your parents now or wait for the letter?”

“Grandfather is with his advisors right now,” Hilde said. 

“Actually, we left some Maldonians in there, you know,” her father said. “So we should probably wait.”

***

Frederick slowed down the wagon as he and his brothers returned to town. As they passed by Isabel and Captain Olsen’s house, Meibel ran out the door. Frederick stopped the wagon.

“You got the pumpkins, Frederick?” she asked.  

“Of course we did, Meibel,” Peder scoffed. 

“Do you want a ride into town?” Frederick asked.

“Sure, why not,” Meibel smiled. 

“It’s not a far walk,” Anton interjected. 

Meibel climbed in, ignoring the twins. 

“Is that the Corona’s flag on that ship?” Peder asked.

“I told you that, remember?” Frederick sighed. 

“Are you excited to go to the Naval Academy there?” Meibel asked.

“Ugh!” Peder exclaimed. “He’s been talking about nothing else. Please don’t bring that up!”

They arrived in town, and stopped by Hudson’s Hearth to unload the pumpkins.

Halima stepped outside, and Meibel jumped up and ran over and gave her a hug. 

“Did you see the ship from Corona?” Meibel asked.

Halima smiled and nodded, glancing over at the castle. 

“How are you boys doing?” Halima asked Frederick and his brothers.

“Good,” Frederick said. “I should go check if Henry arrived on that ship. Inga has been looking forward to that.”

“Is she feeling any better?” Halima asked.

“I hope so,” Frederick replied. “I suppose I’ll be stuck entertaining Henry if she’s not.”

***

Anna and Kristoff stood in the library, staring at the door as Henry followed Kai out of the room.  Anna had hardly let herself think for the past half hour. Had it only been a half hour?

“Now what?” Kristoff asked. 

Anna shook her head and sat down on the sofa, and Kristoff joined her. They sat silently, and her mind went over and over what had been said in Inga’s room. 

“What were you going to tell Inga?” she asked Kristoff.

Kristoff shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure. I hadn’t thought things through.”

“You had to have had some idea,” Anna insisted.

“I guess… what I was thinking was that nobody would have noticed if we had another. That way maybe we could have figured out a way to make it look like it was ours.”

“If the two of them weren’t both so determined to get married, I think I would agree with that.”

“You think they’ll be happy, then?”

“Who knows,” Anna admitted. “But I think he’s determined. He might not have thought things through, but I think Inga could do worse than marry him.”

There was another knock at the door.

“Come in!” Anna called out.

Kai stepped in. “Your Majesty, the council is ready.”

“I’ll head out,” Kristoff said.

“Are you sure you don’t want to be here for the meeting?” Anna asked. 

“Yes,” he replied.

***

James had left the room an hour earlier, judging by the church bells outside having just chimed for a second time. Henry heard the wind suddenly rattle at his window.  He had gotten used to these isolated gusts of wind letting him know that Inga had sent him a letter, but right now she could simply slip any note under his door. He thought about sending her a note, but first he needed to see what this was at his window.

He opened the window, and a letter blew in. It was his mother’s writing. 

October 23rd, 1865

Dear Henry,

We were very surprised to see your letters to myself and to Hilde earlier today. We are making arrangements to travel to Arendelle in two days.  We will save the many questions we have until we arrive there, and we will be there within two weeks. Your grandparents will be traveling with us, as well as Hilde, though you neglected to mention inviting her to the wedding in your letter to her.

Love,

Mother

Henry took a deep breath. His mother knew that he had written to Hilde as well. He hadn’t even realized that he hadn’t invited Hilde to the wedding, it had not been an intentional slight, but apparently they had discussed the letters with each other. At least they were coming soon. He wrote out a quick note to Inga, and folded it up. He had no idea what he was expected to be doing, so he was going to slide the note under her door. As he opened his door, Inga was standing there. 

“Hello,” he said. 

“Hi,” she said. “I wanted to see if you were here.”

Henry stepped out into the hall, and closed his door behind him.  

“Funny thing,” he choked out, stopping himself from laughing. “ I was going to bring you a note. My mother already wrote back.”

“Oh,” Inga said. 

“How are you feeling?” Henry asked. 

“Tired, but I’m well enough, I guess.”

“I’m sorry,” Henry said. He wanted to hug her, but at this point, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do.  “Have you spoken to your parents since-”

“No,” she shook her head. “My maid came back and, well, I had to tell her. She had been so sure that the gossip was baseless, I felt bad.”

“James knows. I wish I could say he was surprised, but I think you know.” 

Inga nodded. 

“So, um,” Henry began. “The weather seems nice?”

“Let’s go outside to the garden,” she suggested.

Henry reached for her hand, and she gave him a squeeze, then linked her arm in his respectably. 

They walked out the nearest door, and found themselves in the garden. 

“I should be helping with preparations,” Inga said as they approached a bench. “The festival is happening tomorrow, and I just feel like I’m avoiding everyone.”

“I think everyone understands,” Henry said. 

They sat down next to each other, linking fingers briefly, before some commotion nearby caused them to simultaneously sit slightly separated from each other, as if overcorrecting their behavior now would fix what was already done.

Henry saw two of Inga’s brothers run across the way at the other. Following them was Frederick, who happened to look over. He glanced back in the direction of the twins before walking their direction.

“Henry!” Frederick called out. 

Henry stood up, and shook hands with Frederick. 

“Is it true you’re going to get married while you’re here?” Frederick asked.

Inga was turning a shade of pink, looking away.

“Um, yes,” Henry said. “News travels fast, huh?” 

“Father just told us that Mother is speaking with the bishop right now, and enough of the council is in town that they’re going to meet this afternoon.”

“What else did he tell you?” Henry asked.

“That was it,” Frederick said. 

“Oh, that’s good,” Inga said, with obvious relief. 

“I wouldn’t worry, Inga. Father didn’t seem happy about it, but he’s not stopping anything. I don’t know why he’s not happier about it. Henry is pretty nice.”

“Thanks?” Henry said.

“I mean it, and I’m not just saying that because Inga likes you.”

Inga took Henry’s hand, and Henry sat back down with her. 

“I suppose he doesn’t want me to leave here,” Inga said.

“You will have to move to Corona, then?” Frederick asked. “I’m glad I’ll be there, then.”

***

Anna returned to her study from the council meeting and rang for Kai. She had managed to get the provisional consent of the council to allow the wedding to happen in the next few weeks, since the bishop had agreed to it already, and spoke in favor of allowing it to happen without undue delay. They would approve whatever details were agreed on with the royal family of Corona once they arrived.  

Somehow, nobody had asked if there was a reason to make the wedding happen quickly. She valued the small blessing. 

Kai arrived. 

“Hello, Kai, could you make sure that Henry is invited to dinner with the family?” she asked.

“Yes, Your Majesty. Dinner will be in an hour, is that still good for you?”

“Yes, that works well. I don’t know if Inga will be able to make it, but make sure that Oline checks in on her.”

Kai nodded and left.

Anna stopped by their bedroom, and Kristoff was already dressed, about to head over to dinner. 

“I told Frederick and the twins about the wedding,” he said as they began walking. 

“How much did you tell them?” 

“Only that it’s happening soon. They’ll figure out the rest one of these days.”

Anna nodded. “I suppose all three of them will be at dinner this evening, then? I told Kai to make sure Henry is invited. At the very least, even if Inga isn’t feeling up to joining us, we don’t need Ambassador Meyer finding him tonight.”

Kristoff grimaced. “You make a good point.”

As they arrived at the dining room, they were surprised to see Inga and Henry already sitting at the table.  It wasn’t clear if they had been talking about anything when Anna and Kristoff arrived, but the younger two were holding hands and let go the moment she and Kristoff walked into the room.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Kristoff said somewhat gruffly, walking over to his usual seat. 

“We were outside and Kai told us Henry was invited to dinner,” Inga explained. 

“I’m happy to see that you’re well enough to join us, Inga,” Anna said sincerely, though she wondered how much her daughter was forcing herself for the sake of appearances now.

“I’ve heard back from my mother,” Henry announced. “They’re coming on the next steamship to Arendelle. My family, that is.”

“All of them?” Anna asked. 

“Yes, everyone will be coming, including my grandparents,” Henry replied. 

“Oh, of course, that will be good,” Anna nodded, sharing a brief glance with Kristoff, and glad that Inga was the only other person in the room right then. Having his entire family in attendance would help the appearances of this being intentional. “How much have you told them?”

“Just that the wedding will be happening soon after they arrive,” Henry replied. 

Anna wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or uneasy. They would have to know the truth at some point. 

She and Kristoff sat down at the end of the table.

Frederick arrived just then.  “What did I miss?” he asked, sitting down across from Inga and Henry.

“Henry just heard back from his family, and they should all be arriving within two weeks,” Inga informed him.

“All of them?” Frederick asked, “I thought your grandparents didn’t really travel.”

“Um, yes, they all want to be here,” Henry replied.  

“I guess the council decided to let you go ahead and get married?” Frederick asked.

“Did they?” Henry asked, turning to Anna.

“Yes, with very few questions.  The bishop helped considerably.”

“But usually they have so many questions,” Frederick commented.

"So, Frederick, how are the plans coming along for the naval academy?" Anna asked, intentionally changing the subject. 

"There's a term from January through May, and another term in the fall. And then the spring after that I would become a second lieutenant."

"Will you be sailing much?" Inga asked.

"Oh, there will be sailing," Frederick replied confidently. "It would be rather ridiculous to become a naval officer with no sailing experience, don't you think?"

Inga laughed, while Anna quietly wished that her son could find some other way to make his mark on the world. Kristoff seemed to notice, putting a calming hand on top of hers.  She realized she should try to include Henry in the conversation.

“Henry, what do you know about the naval academy in Corona?”

“My grandfather takes particular pride in it,” he told them, “he wasn’t the one who founded the academy, but he expanded it considerably when he took the throne.  It was his idea to invite select foreign candidates.”

“Why hasn’t Arendelle sent anyone before?” Inga asked him innocently.

“I… I don’t know,” Henry said, clearly not having been asked the question before, or perhaps not sure what answer would be safe in front of Arendelle's queen. 

Anna wasn’t going to be offended, not at this point, but before she could say anything, the twins and Sofia arrived at the same time.

“Sofia, you’re joining us tonight?” Anna asked. She hadn’t said anything one way or the other to Kai.

“Nanny said it was fine,” Sofia insisted, “and Anton and Peder were on their way, anyway when Meibel was going home.”

“I don’t see why not,” Inga insisted, “I no longer had dinner with Nanny when I was her age, unless it was some kind of state dinner.”

“That’s true,” Anna agreed, noticing Kristoff looking uncomfortable. Sometime later that day they would need to discuss whether they were going to adjust the rules for Sofia going forward.

0o0o0

October 21st, 1865

Dear Elizabeth,

I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to write back to you.  Planning the Harvest Festival was keeping me quite busy, but the festival went very well yesterday, and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves quite a bit.  I've enjoyed reading about your little baby, and I hope you tell me more about him. 

Meanwhile, I’m going to have to keep this letter short, because I’m still quite busy, but I will have some news to tell you soon enough. I suppose you won’t be particularly surprised. 

Sincerely,

Inga

Inga sealed and addressed the letter, and couldn’t help but feel guilty for not writing more, especially after so long of a delay of writing to Elizabeth.  

She dropped the letter in the tray that Kai would pick up for the post later that day, and made her way to the Cathedral. Henry was waiting outside the door for her, and the clock was chiming the exact time that her mother had told them to meet her there with the bishop. 

“Has my mother arrived yet?” she asked Henry.  

He shook his head silently, and just then, the bishop came out the front doors of the cathedral, motioning them to follow him inside.

Inga had felt well enough to put on a good appearance at the Harvest Festival the day before, introducing Henry to people, some of whom had already met, and others who were new faces.  Thanks to the permission of the royal council, they were able to say they were engaged. They had managed to avoid seeing the council in person, since their personal consent had been taken care of the previous summer. Between the letter from the King of Corona, and the word from the Bishop of Arendelle that he believed it was best, the matter was settled with surprisingly little grumbling. It helped that they had a quorum without the less agreeable members of the council, whose notifications had been delayed by a few hours.

The bishop led them up the back stairs to the choir balcony, and told them to wait while he finished discussing matters alone with the queen.

“How are you doing?" Henry asked Inga.

“You keep asking me that,” she sighed.

“Well, I mean-” 

“Have you heard about the acoustics of this place?” Inga said, cutting him off before he could say anything else. “Even if you’re whispering, people can hear you perfectly even in the back row of the pews.”

“That’s interesting,” Henry said, sounding confused. “But why are you telling me this?”

“You wouldn’t believe how many people don’t know about this, and what they think is a secret is known by everyone in town because someone was sitting hidden away in a dark corner of the cathedral listening while they were up here talking.”

Henry’s eyes widened, and he nodded.

The bishop brought them into his office. Inga’s mother was sitting in one chair, and the bishop showed them to two more chairs across from his desk. Inga made sure that she was sitting in between her mother and Henry. Her mother may not have been as visibly upset as her father had been, but it still seemed more comfortable that way.

If the bishop knew of their reasons for hurrying the wedding, he didn’t show it, though Inga felt certain that he must know. He seemed satisfied that she and Henry were, indeed, getting married for reasons other than feeling forced to do so, and he would proceed with the plans, and with the regularity of the steamship Henry’s family was on, they would schedule the wedding for one week later. 

Inga and Henry thanked him, and he seemed to sense their disappointment that it would not be sooner.

“While I understand the desire to expedite things further, any sooner and it would look suspicious now rather than later.”

The bishop knew. 

***

The next day, Inga stood in the middle of her room with her mother and the dressmaker and several assistants. They had taken several measurements of her and shown several different drawings of the latest fashions from Paris. Her mother asked her a question that she didn’t quite hear. Inga’s mind was thinking about a thousand different things.

“Inga,” her mother repeated, “you need to pick which one you want. They don’t have a lot of time to make it.”

“Just pick the dress you like!” Inga shouted at her mother in frustration, sitting down gracelessly in the chair in the corner of her room.  The dressmaker and her assistants looked between Inga and her mother helplessly.

Her mother walked over, kneeling down gently on the floor next to her.  “Inga, it’s your wedding, you need to be the one to decide what you want.  I can’t tell you.”

“But I don’t know!  It’s a dress!  I could decide if it was something practical, but it’s not.  I really don’t know what I want.”

“Well, maybe you should have thought of that before,” her mother said under her breath.

“What did you just say?” Inga asked, barely keeping her voice from rising. 

“I’m just saying, I can’t make this decision for you.”

“It’s a dress.  It’s a stupid dress. Pick one, and the dressmaker already has my measurements, so let’s call it a day.”

Her mother sighed, stood up, and walked over to the dressmaker.  The two discussed matters for a few minutes, and then the dressmaker walked over with some samples of fabric and a fashion plate.  

“Will this do, Your Highness?” she asked Inga.

“Um, fine,” Inga mumbled, “thank you, that will do.”

“Very well,” her mother said to the dressmaker, “You can work out the details with Kai downstairs, and let me know if you need anything else, thank you.”

The dressmaker and her assistants left the room, and Inga’s mother closed the door behind them.

“What was that all about?” she asked Inga sharply.

“Exactly what I said!” Inga cried, “I don’t care about the dress I’m wearing, as long as it fits.  It’s never been something I’ve ever cared about.  I should wear something appropriate to my position and the occasion, I understand that.  But why does that mean I need to pick something myself?”

“Because it’s your wedding, not mine or the dressmaker’s wedding or one of your friends.”

“If it were really my wedding, I would have just gone and gotten married,” Inga grumbled, walking over to sit on her bed.

“No one is stopping you,” her mother snapped, “No one has stopped you from doing anything you’ve ever wanted, not in your entire life.  You’re the one making your own life difficult, so don’t complain to me.”

“Fine, I won’t!”  Inga shouted.  She flopped down on the bed. “Now can I be alone, or is that just getting what I want like I always do?”

“I’ll come back to check on you before dinner,” her mother said, suddenly calm.  She left silently, closing the door firmly behind her.

[bluestar22x]

Second Chance News

Second Chances (Part 7): Second Chance News

Summary: Marcus has been here before - Marcus POV

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x OFC!Elena

Rating: 18+ series, 13+ rated chapter

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy symptoms

Word Count: 2,371

Author’s Note: Yes, I picture his reaction when he puts two and two together being exactly like in that gif above. Same expression, different emotion behind it.

xxx

Series Masterlist

xxx

“Marcus Moreno!”

Oh oh. If there was one thing Marcus knew was absolute, it was that it was never good when a mother or a wife used your full name.

“You’re leaving a trail of mud behind you,” Elena notified him, pointing at the floor he’d traveled over.

He glanced back and cringed. He’d only wandered a few feet off the doormat to hang up his jacket, but he had indeed left quite a mess behind him.

“Sorry,” he apologized, immediately kicking off his shoes and placing them back on the mat. “I’ll pick up my mess after I talk to Missy.”

“What do you need to talk to Missy about?” Elena questioned, back turned to him as she stirred the pot of soup she’d been cooking on the stove.

“The Heroics are having a meeting tomorrow and the bosses want all the kids there too,” Marcus informed her.

He heard whining by Elena’s feet and peered over the island in the center of the kitchen to see Ginger sitting there, staring longingly up at the pot of soup.

“Ginger, would you stop?” Elena snapped, glaring down at the dog before turning back to face Marcus. “Can you take Ginger with you upstairs? And tell Missy to stop sneaking her table scraps. She’s starting to beg again.”

“Sure thing,” he said, walking around to scoop up Ginger and quickly exiting the room to climb the stairs.

He glanced down at the little dog and raised his eyebrows. “She’s not having a good day, is she?” He’d have to ask Elena what was eating at her later. It wasn’t like her to be so short tempered with him, let alone Ginger, and usually it was his mother who hounded him about keeping the house clean. She’d gone behind his back many times to clean his house after he’d become a widower.

He knocked on the closed door to Missy’s room and she yelled, “Come in!”

When he did, he found her sitting up on her bed, cross-legged, playing some sort of mobile zoo game on her phone.

“What’s up?” she inquired, dragging her eyes away from the screen.

“I wanted to let you know that Berkely wants everyone at the meeting tomorrow,” he replied, “Including you.”

She perked up, always excited to be more involved with the Heroics team. She reminded him of himself before his family became his priority. “Awesome. Are they going to talk about getting us better suits?”

“I don’t know about that,” he said, shrugging. “They never really tell me anything beforehand.”

“Sometimes I think they forget you’re the leader of the team,” Missy told him.

“I think so too,” he agreed with a laugh.

“Why are you carrying Ginger around?” she quizzed.

Marcus deposited the dog on her bedspread and his daughter pulled her close to pet her. “She was getting on Elena’s nerves. You’ve got to stop giving her human food Missy.”

She flashed him a guilty look. “Sorry. It’s just so difficult. I mean, look at this face.” She gently framed the dog’s head so his eyes could meet Ginger’s.

“No more,” Marcus said firmly. He couldn’t blame his daughter for feeling guilty for not sharing her food with the dog, but it wasn’t good to teach her bad behavior either.

Missy sighed and let Ginger go. “Okay, fine.”

“Keep her in your room until supper,” Marcus ordered her.

“Yes, sir.” A little bit of rebellious teenager tone had seeped into Missy’s voice but he ignored it and headed for the door.

He paused before he could step out into the hall. “Missy?”

“Hmmm?”

“Does Elena seem off to you today?” Marcus twisted in his spot so he could see her reaction.

She shrugged. “Not really. Maybe she looks more tired than usual?”

He hummed at that. Something must’ve happened.

“Why?”

“She seems to be on edge tonight.”

“She did seem stressed out earlier,” Missy told him. “When she picked me up at Abuela’s house she mentioned that she’s overhauling the library at school. Said they made a mess of it when they did repairs last month. She also said she has to work on getting some new books and update the programs on all the library’s computers cause the tech guys are busy enough with the office ones plus the student laptops so they won’t have time for hers before school starts back in two weeks.”

That explains it.

“We’re on clean up duty tonight,” he declared.

“Fair,” Missy agreed.

Marcus arched his brows. Elena must have really sounded stressed out earlier for Missy not to protest. He made a mental note to be extra attentive that night.

X

After supper was eaten and the dishes were clean, Missy and Ginger returned to her room while Marcus and Elena plopped down on the couch to browse the TV.

She passed him the remote and curled up with her head on the armrest opposite to the one he was leaning against.

He frowned. “You don’t want to pick the channel?” Usually he let her choose because she was fussier about what they watched, but she shook her head at him.

“I’m a little queasy right now so I’m just going to close my eyes and try to sleep it off for a bit,” she told him.

“Oh? Did you eat something questionable today?”

Elena shook her head again. “I don’t think so. I think it’s from staring at the computer screens too long. I have a headache too.”

Made sense. “Alright, I’ll let you be.”

Elena mumbled a thank you to him and shortly after he found a show on the science channel to watch he noticed that her breathing steadied out. He watched her sleep for a moment, wishing silently for her sake that the city’s middle school would be a little more organized. If she was already in as rough shape as she was at that point, what would she be like by the time the school year officially started?

He eventually turned to focus on the TV, knowing there was nothing he could do about the incompetence of the bosses at the school, but he couldn’t keep it from eating at him. And, he realized, that wasn’t the only thing eating at him.

As far as he knew this was the first truly stressful day Elena had endured since summer vacation had begun, and it wasn’t like her to be worn down so fast. She was usually a high energy person. Not that she was hyper, but rather she could function longer and better than most people without an ounce of coffee in her system. And it was so unusual of her to let work get to her. The two weeks of prep for the school year had been fairly rough last year too, but she hadn’t complained at all.

And then there was the headache and queasiness she’d just mentioned. Yes, it wasn’t uncommon for someone to feel that way if they were staring at a screen for too long, but usually Elena wouldn’t sit long enough at a desk to get eye strain that badly. He’d seen her at work before. She tended to go back and forth between her book and online duties even when she was busy.

The neon sign of it all though was her moodiness. Elena wasn’t quick to anger, even when stressed out. She’d be more likely to cry out of frustration if anything, and even that was rare. And when she had a period? Marcus could never guess it unless she told him about it. She’d told him once that it was mostly thanks to the Midol pills she loyally took during that time. Not being in any pain did wonders for her.

If any one of the symptoms would’ve been missing, if he hadn’t seen Reina deal with similar ones, Marcus would’ve probably second guessed himself, but all together he could only come to one conclusion.

Elena was pregnant.

He looked down at her then, his mouth forming an “o” as his eyes trailed down her body for any physical signs. There weren’t any, not yet, as far as he could tell, but his gut instinct was screaming that he was right. It just made too much sense.

He wasn’t really shocked. He and Elena had stopped using protection well over three months ago, they’d been hoping for this to happen, and their chances had been high, but that didn’t stop his stomach from fluttering a bit at the idea that he was going to be a father again. That he and Elena had created a new life together. Awe sprouted from that thought and he wondered how anyone could not feel like the world had shifted after having that kind of revelation. He grinned.

It had been over fourteen years since he’d shared a home with someone pregnant, but he still remembered it fairly well. And while some days had been pretty rough for Reina, there had been a lot of good days too. He couldn’t wait for Elena to have those good days, to see her eyes light up with the kind of joy he’d once seen in Reina’s. The joy that made it all worth it.

He hoped for it at least. He knew that not every mother experienced pregnancy the same way as Reina, that some had it rougher, but it was no use worrying about it. He knew Elena wanted to get pregnant, and that would be enough for the moment.

Marcus felt like he wanted to burst having figured it out, but he refused to let himself wake her over it, so he settled for resting a hand on one of her lower legs and using his fingers to draw circles onto her skin as he anxiously waited.

It was nearly an hour later when she stirred, slowly sitting up and shaking the fuzziness caused by her nap out of her head. As she blinked away her lethargy, Marcus couldn’t help but smile at her.

“What?” she asked when she noticed.

“I don’t think you’re just tired,” Marcus told her, placing his hand on her knee and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I think you’re pregnant honey.”

She sucked in a deep breath and her eyes brightened. “You think so? Today was so awful and this last week I’ve had my head at work nearly full time…I didn’t consider it. Now that I think about it, it wasn’t just today. I’ve been more tired for a while now, just not bad enough for me to think something was up. And my period is late by a few days.”

“You should go take one of those tests you got when we started trying,” Marcus suggested. Not that he thought he might be wrong, but he couldn’t wait for his suspicions to be confirmed.

“They recommend taking those in the morning,” Elena informed him. “Less chance of a false negative.”

“Do you want to wait that long?”

She chuckled. “God no.”

She stood and Marcus followed her upstairs to their bedroom, where he waited on the edge of the bed as she peed on a couple sticks. After she was finished she joined him, waiting for the alarm she’d set on her watch to go off.

They both jumped a little when it started beeping, and Elena quickly shut it off before strolling over to the bathroom sink. Marcus trailed behind, stopping in the doorway.

When Elena clutched one of the tests to her chest, a wide grin on her face, he got all the evidence he needed, but she still presented both sticks to him after. Each test had two blue lines running through their result windows.

“I’m definitely pregnant,” she declared.

He beamed at her. “Yes you are.”

“We’re having a baby.”

He nodded and she threw her arms around his neck. “God, I’m so happy I don’t know what to do with myself,” she admitted.

He laughed joyfully as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “Me neither honey.”

When she pulled away slightly he leaned down to kiss her and she melted into his touch, letting herself drink in the moment as much as he was.

Eventually they separated and Marcus rubbed both of her arms up and down, wondering how he was going to convince himself to keep his hands to himself for even five minutes during the rest of her pregnancy.

“We should tell Missy,” Elena decided.

Marcus frowned. “Of course we will.”

“I mean right now,” she explained. “Missy’s a smart girl, and if we don’t tell her about it before she figures it out she’s going to be hurt.”

Elena was right. And it wasn’t like Missy didn’t know that they were trying for a baby. They’d been upfront and honest with her about their intentions of having another child, and she’d been supportive of it, whether or not she actually wanted to be a big sister.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Marcus led her to Missy’s room, his hand clasped with one of hers, and knocked on the door for the second time that night. Like the first time, she shouted for them to come in.

She was at her desk this time, watching a movie on her laptop. When she saw the serious expressions on their faces she looked nervous. “Everything alright?”

Elena gave her a reassuring smile. “It is. More than alright. Your dad and I just have some news to share with you.”

“Oh?”

Marcus and Elena shared a glance before he continued, “Elena just finished taking a couple pregnancy tests and they were both positive.”

Missy’s eyes widened like saucers and her jaw dropped as she stood and turned to Elena. “You’re pregnant?”

“I am,” she confirmed.

“I’m going to be a big sister?” Missy sounded more and more excited with every word.

Elena nodded.

“Oh my god,” Missy howled out. She sprung into her arms and Elena laughed.

“I take you’re happy,” Marcus teased, a hand on her back.

“Wait until I tell Guppy I got a little sibling before her,” Missy said, smirking.

He shook his head at her in disapproval, but he couldn’t help but smile after.

He couldn’t have asked for a better night.