#bitter end to summer... you miss it... but then fall settles in slowly

[stroebe2]

i miss fall

[miley1442111]

fresh out the slammer- a.hotchner

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: yes, i am a swifty- sorry lmao.

intended for fem reader!

summary: based off of fresh out the slammer by taylor swift

pairings: aaron hotchner x reader

warnings: sad ending, talk of falling out of love, aaron is still in love with Haley

the tortured poets department masterlist

Now pretty baby, I'm running back home to you

Fresh out the slammer, I know who my first call will be to

Fresh out the slammer, oh

Aaron unlocked the door to your shared home, one thought on his mind. Haley. 

He missed her more than life itself. He missed being a family with Jack and her. He missed it all. 

You were his girlfriend, you should’ve been on his mind. You had been there for him during his recent recovery after the stabbings with Foyet, you were working at all hours to try and find Foyet, you were always there for him. He loved you, truly. 

But you weren't Haley. 

Another summer takin' cover, rolling thunder

He don't understand me

Splintered back in winter, silent dinners, bitter

He was with her in dreams

He lay beside you in your bed. You were already asleep, soft snores falling from your beautiful lips. A certain unease settled into Aaron’s body. He realised something slowly, and it led to a heavy sense of dread, shame, regret, and guilt. 

He didn’t love you. He was still in love with Haley. 

He thought of Haley everyday, every night. He wondered what she was doing, now that he didn’t know where she or Jack was.

Sleep evaded him that night. 

Gray and blue and fights and tunnels

Handcuffed to the spell I was under

For just one hour of sunshine

Years of labor, locks, and ceilings

In the shade of how he was feeling

But it's gonna be alright, I did my time

Weeks passed and Aaron became more and more distant. He cancelled dates, came home late, he was reckless at work. 

You felt hopeless. You knew something was wrong, but you couldn’t figure out what. You decided to confront him, staying up late enough to catch him. 

“Aaron, what’s going on?” You asked as he walked into your shared bedroom. He stared at you for a moment, then sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Nothing,” he lied.

“Aaron, I’m a profiler too. Tell me.”

He felt conflicted. He liked you, a lot. He’d been dating you for a year. He’d thought he was over Haley, he was wrong. “I’m not in love with you anymore, I’m not sure I ever was.”

Your heart broke, but you swallowed it back. “Ok,” you whispered and got up, grabbing your go-bag and walking out. Aaron didn’t chase you. He didn’t want to. 

You got into your car and let yourself break down. He never loved you. He was still in love with Haley. You were just a placeholder for her. 

You went to Penelope’s place, knowing she’d be there for you. She let you in immediately and comforted you to sleep.

Now, pretty baby, I'm runnin' back home to you

Frеsh out the slammer, I know who my first call will be to

(Frеsh out the slammer, oh)

Haley was dead. You felt devastated for Aaron and Jack, not enough to speak to him though. You attended the funeral, you stood beside the rest of the team, then went straight to Strauss. You handed in you badge and gun, leaving the BAU behind. You cut everyone off, blocking their numbers, moving house, taking up a job in the CIA instead. 

Aaron had officially lost you. In the weeks of your breakup, he’d realised how wrong he was, that he had loved you, that he was in love with you. 

Camera flashes, welcome bashes, get the matches

Toss the ashes off the ledge

As I said in my letters, now that I know better

I will never lose my baby again

He spent weeks trying to find you, finding nothing. You’d asked one of your new colleagues to essentially wipe your existence off the face of the earth. You changed your name, you changed. 

He’d made Penelope look for you for months, he went to your family as a last result. 

“You want to know where Y/n is?” Your father asked. “We thought you’d know.”

His heart stopped. You were missing. 

He got the team on it immediately, until Strauss called him in. 

“Aaron, Y/n Y/l/n is not missing. She’s been reassigned,” she explained.

“Why can’t we find her then! All of her accounts were drained and closed, her family don’t know where she is, and she left the BAU!” He demanded. 

“She was reassigned Aaron, that’s the end of it.”

He was helpless. You were gone. 

My friends tried, but I wouldn't hear it

Watch me daily disappearing

For just one glimpse of his smile

All those nights, he kept me goin'

Swirled you into all of my poems

Now we're at the starting line, I did my time

He took a leave of absence from the BAU for a month, deciding to try and find you on his own. He looked through everything on you, tried to remember details you’d told him, but he came up with nothing. 

Until he saw you on a case. 

Now, pretty baby, I'm runnin'

To the house where you still wait up and that porch light gleams (Gleams)

To the one who says I'm the girl of his American dreams

And no matter what I've done, it wouldn't matter anyway

Ain't no way I'm gonna screw up now that I know what's at stake here

At the park where we used to sit on children's swings

Wearing imaginary rings

You were a CIA agent, you were happy the way you were. You’d found a husband in the 2 years since you’d left the BAU. He loved you and adored you like you were supposed to be adored. He was a childhood best friend, one you’d had a crush on as a child. Aaron walked into the CIA building and saw you with your hand in his. His world crumbled for the third time in his life. 

You had found someone else. You shot him and the entire team a small, knowing smile, and assisted them on their case.  

“We thought you’d died,” Derek admitted as you were all cleaning up the conference room they were using as an office. 

“Well technically Y/n died, I’m Y/n/n now. Y/n/n Scott,” You smiled, showing off your wedding ring and smiling at your husband, the other CIA agent that was helping with the investigation. Aaron’s stomach turned. At least you were happy. 

But it's gonna be alright, I did my time

[oneofthosesimps]

His Mate

pairing: bakugou x fem!reader I nsfw

word count: 2740

summary: bakugou takes care of you during your heat and makes you his mate

warnings: blood (because he bites you), rough sex, sub/dom, dirty talk, insulting (because it is bakugou), fluff

authors note: i love the alpha/ beta/ omega universe and it has always been a dream to write a fanfic on this topic. and bakugou would be the perfect alpha change my mind <3

-> you don't even notice that i have a certain preference when it comes to the selection of my husbandos

all credits to the artist of this pic:

unfortunately i do not know who it is from (again, I'm so sorry, but I can't find the original source)

-----

Hot.

Thick, shiny beads of sweat form on your skin and make your hair stick to your forehead. A deep blush begins to cover your body and you whimper out.

Hot.

Your head is heavy and feels dense, as if opaque veils of mist are wrapped around your brain. Your body begins to burn, but from the inside. Blazing flames roam your limbs, licking at your nerve endings and leaving them tingling.

You feel so terribly hot.

You tear your eyes open and push the blanket off your body to cool down a bit, but the cold wind blowing in through the open window brings no help. Your hands start to shake as you feel your legs getting wet. Thick juice flows out of your core, leaving your abdomen aching. Your body starts to move and you roll out of bed, "So hot, fire." Your croaky voice echoes through the room, you don't recognize it. Tears form in your eyes and you sob. Your body aches and tingles at the same time. Before your legs touch the soft carpeted floor of your room, arms wrap around your waist.

"Where are you going?" A warm shiver comes over you as you hear his dark, deep voice and your eyes roll slightly.

"Out, shower, hot, fire." With another whimper, your body is pulled back into the bed and a warm, large body leans over you. Paws grip your wrists and press them into the soft mattress. Bakugou above you frowns as your bitter pheromones reach his nose. Immediately, he releases more of his scent to push the fear and pain out of you. Your glazed eyes turn upward and you look into dark red eyes that sparkle down at you from between blonde strands, "You don't seem to be giving me much of a break this time."

Your stomach does a tumble before you push yourself towards him. Your nipples harden and stand up at him. He watches your movements and licks his lower lip as he breathes in the sweet scent of your slick, "I see." He props himself above you so as not to crush you with his weight and presses his face to your neck. His soft tongue slides over your scent glands and your eyes turn into your skull. He is so close to you that his smell takes you completely and messes with your head. He smells good enough to bite into, like warm caramel, blazing fire on a lukewarm summer evening and the after smell of fireworks in the night. You inhale deeply and sigh contentedly, stretching your neck out to him for complete access. Bakugou feels much the same way. He had never smelled anything as good as you. It drives him crazy and leaves his cock hard. He rubs himself harder against you, spreading his scent over every part of your body. Never again shall you smell like another Alpha, everyone shall know you are his.

"Fire," you gasp as his teeth gently dig into the tender skin of your neck, careful not to bite too deeply and make you his mate.

"Not for long, I promise." His voice is like warm honey, easing the pain in your abdomen a bit, "This time we'll try something different, so hopefully you'll be satisfied longer, shitty Omega." With those words his hands leave your wrists and you are turned onto your stomach with a flip. Immediately you push your butt in his direction and stretch towards him. The moisture between your legs becomes stronger and flows down your legs. At the sight of your round cheeks in front of him, Bakgugou growls out. The sound comes deep from his throat and makes you groan. His big hands on your ass make you whimper and he pulls the soft fat apart. Immediately his eyes fall on your little asshole, which twitches from the spreading of your cheeks. His balls tighten painfully at the thought of fucking it, stretching and tearing it apart. But that will have to wait until you have regained your senses and can really perceive what dirty things he is doing to you. Further down, he sees your red, swollen lips. Slick oozes out of them, leaving them shiny. The strong smell wafts towards him, making the water in his mouth pool.

"Alpha will take care of you," he murmurs behind you, and his right hand leaves your ass cheek, moving upward. He strokes along your spine. Despite the heat in your body, goosebumps come over you and you groan. How good every little touch of him feels. His hand lingers in the small of your back and he presses it deeper into the mattress, pushing your butt even higher. You claw into the sheet beneath you as you feel his thick glans at your entrance moments later.

"Alpha," you moan, pushing your pelvis back. This causes his cock to push in easily. His hot, fat tip pushes your walls apart and slowly slides inside you, stretching you. A deep growl comes from Bakugou.

Alpha happy, Omega makes Alpha happy, repeats over and over in your head.

His hands press firmly into your flesh, making you yelp. The pain mixes with the feeling in your stomach and you're sure he's leaving dark marks on your skin. They will join the other bite and scratch marks on your body and once you leave this room, everyone will see what Bakugou is capable of. Despite all the liquid, you can feel him splitting your insides and leaving them tingling.

"Alpha," you moan again as Bakugou sinks fully inside you, him pressing against the back of your cervix.

"You're so stupidly fucked, you can't say anything else, can you, Omega?" He pulls out of you before sinking deep inside you again, making you yelp. Slowly, over and over again, he repeats this process. It makes you feel so nice and full. His fat cock fits perfectly inside you, filling you to the hilt. "I haven't heard you say anything but 'alpha' or 'fire' in hours," he taunts. Bakugou's hands settle on your ass again and he spreads it. How beautiful it looks when his thick cock, shimmering with your juices, pulls out of you, leaving your tight cunt empty before drilling into the heat of your body again, arriving home, "Such a good, stupid Omega, you make Alpha so happy." With each of his thrusts his balls lightly smack against your clit. With each of his thrusts, you moan out, clawing into the pillow beneath you. Mouth open, you drool all over the fabric as the Alpha behind you fucks you so well. The sound of flesh on flesh fills the room. Your moans grow louder as Bakugou changes angles and thrusts against the squishy spot inside you. Burying his face against your neck, he inhales your scent and rolls his eyes.

"Alpha," you moan out, trying to push harder against him and follow his rhythm to push him deeper inside you.

"What, Omega?" his right paw leaves your ass and travels to your shoulder, clasping it and pulling it back. Your torso straightens upward, making him hit every point of your insides perfectly. The blond spikes of his hair graze your neck and his breath on your neck makes your belly tingle. "What do you want? Do you want more?"

You whimper out and a smirk crosses his face. His other hand goes around your neck and he presses your back against his chest. At this angle, he changes his speed and hardness. Each thrust hit even deeper and tears you in two. Each thrust sends you closer to heaven and makes you jerk in his arms. Now his balls hit right against your clit, massaging it. Shamelessly, you moan loudly as he fucks you way too well, murmuring to your neck about how well you're doing and what a good Omega you are.

"You think you can cum for me, shitty Omega?" he murmurs, his hand on your shoulder running between your legs. His long fingers gather your juices and massage them into that little knob. Your moans grow louder and your lower body twitches harder. Your walls tighten and Bakugou moans loudly, "Oi, Omega. You're so tight again, and that's even though I've fucked you so many times. How is this possible." Your eyebrows draw together at his words and butterflies flutter through your body. "Can you feel my full, heavy balls slapping against you?" you whimper loudly and he laughs softly, "I can't wait to fill you again, Omega. Are you looking forward to it already as my knot grows inside you and stretches you painfully wide?"

With these words in combination with the friction of your clitoris, you go over the threshold. You moan loudly as your body jerks in rhythm with your insides. Bakugou gasps as you tighten to the max, trying to milk him. He bites your shoulder, far away from your neck, so as not to come inside you right away. He wants to savour this round longer, but his Alpha growls at him to finally fill you, to squirt his thick, hot juice inside you. Meanwhile, the flames spread inside you. Starting in your belly, they burn everything in their path and leave you breathless. It feels so incredibly good, like you're floating above the clouds. Bakugou's massive body continues to rock against you, fucking you through your orgasm before you fall weakly against him. The flames inside you retreat again, but the fire is still on. Your Omega is not satisfied yet, the thick knot is missing. You need more, want more.

Your head rests against Bakugou's chest and he catches your weight. He licks over the bite mark on your shoulder and puts his hands on your waist. His nails dig into your flesh, leaving crescent moons behind. The scent of your orgasm is heavy in the air. He clenches his teeth and tenses his muscles. Like all the times before, he's about to put his mouth to your throat and claim you. His Alpha is fighting inside him. You are hisperfect mate, you shall be his. But the last brain cells in him tell him that he has to hold back until your heat is over. You have to ask him to dig his teeth into you - otherwise the whole ritual has no value.

"Alpha." Your delicate voice gets through to him and he looks down at you. You are so beautiful when you are fucked. Sweat coats your skin and makes you glow like a goddess.

"Omega." Such beautiful, small, perfect Omega. He gets more brutal, in search of his own release he fucks against your body, making your breasts bounce up and down. Your moans get louder again and the knot reappears. Your voices blend, vibrating the walls around you.

"Alpha." God, your voice is so sinful. The knot in his stomach tightens, tightens. His cock is pumping full, getting ready to shoot all his juice into you, filling you to the brim. He can no longer control the sparks that form on his hands and shoot into your skin. They shoot single bolts of lightning through you and converge in your clit, making your walls twitch uncontrollably.

"Good Omega, good Omega," he moans out loud, and he stares at your face. Your red cheeks, your half-closed eyes staring forward unfocused, your open mouth, your tongue sticking out. A thread of saliva drips down from its tip and comes up your leg. His eyelids close and he thinks about you. How he bends his head down and sucks your saliva off your tongue, pulling it into his mouth. He's so close, getting closer to his end with each thrust.

"Mark me." He tears his eyes open and his gaze falls on you again. Your voice is so low and weak he thinks he's misheard before you repeat those words, louder this time.

"What did you just say?" Those are the first real words from you in ... three days? Your voice is so raspy, and yet the words come over him like a flood. His eyes go pure black before his thrusts stop. He holds your body in place as you move back and forth to create more friction. A deep dark sound escapes his throat, making you wince. "You're babbling bullshit, shitty Omega. You can't think straight." His voice is frightening yet gives you a sense of security. He is so strong and powerful.

"Please, mark me." Again, the sound comes from him and you press yourself against the heat of his body. The flames in your body grow stronger again and you tighten your walls.

"Don't joke with me, Omega. Don't say something you'll regret later." His face approaches your neck again, though he tries to pull himself together, but his Alpha is about to take over his thinking. The situation is dangerous. His teeth start to ache and saliva flows from his mouth as he admires the site of your scent glands. Hadn't he just decided not to make you his mate during your heat? He wants to wait until you can live and think independently again, and yet you say these words to him. How can he not mark you? He wants it so badly. Omega, his Omega.

"My Alpha." That's the first time you've titled him as his. Otherwise, you're always just calling him simple Alpha when you're not complaining about burning inside. And those words push his Alpha to its limit. His eyes are wide-set, black. His fine hairs on his skin stand up. He draws in your scent deeply and licks across your neck. His blond spikes tickle your skin again and you whimper.

"Omega, my Omega, mark you." His soft tongue tickles you before he grips your neck and stretches your throat. He presents himself the wet, fragrant spot before his bit digs into you. My silly little Omega

Explosion. This is what it feels like to get a mate. It's an explosion, rising up from the deepest of your hearts and taking you in. It overtakes your senses and you lose touch with the earth. Different feelings roam your body.

As sweet as fresh strawberries on a warm summer day, while the sun is just casting its last rays on his face. As light as feathers stirred up by a barely perceptible breeze and slowly sinking back to the ground. As beautiful as a flower just opening, its petals covered by the dew on the meadow.

This explosion brings another. Bakugou's thick, white juice squirts into you as he bites into your skin. He moans loudly and clings to you. His knot forms and stretches you wide, closing off your little hole as he continues to fuck you, his hips working against you. The same feeling for you. You come again, much harder this time. "Katsuki," you scream deep from your throat, making the Alpha behind you whimper and moan.

It never seems to end.

Blood pours from your throat and between Bakugou's teeth into his mouth. He drinks it greedily until the flow subsides. His teeth loosen and he licks over the wound, cleaning it. Your whole body weakens and your strength leaves you. Immediately Bakugou holds you tight and supports you while his head gradually becomes clearer and he realizes what just happened.

"Shitty omega," he mutters, pulling the blanket around you, "You're stupid. You shouldn't have said that, shit. Omega, do you know what that means, stupid?"

"My Alpha," you murmur, and his heart swells. Your slowly dozing body snuggles up to him and he brushes the hair off your forehead. His gaze falls on the fresh, deep bite wound on your neck and the fire that is just slowly leaving you seeps into his body. He is overcome by a clarity he has never felt before. The earth's gravitational pull seems to change, seems to weaken, and suddenly you are the center of his world. The whole universe comes apart at the seams and accepts you as its new center. Like a shining star you sit in his lap, his thick cock buried deep inside you and he could worship you immediately and on the spot. Never would he ever let you go again, never would he not protect you. This stupid little omega, this shitty woman is his for all eternity. You are his life. His mate.

[calumrose]

There’s No Place Like Home || C.H

A//N: Let’s just say I’ve not been doing so good since Calum posted that tiktok two days ago... And this is what became of that <3 Also, this might just be the smallest thing I’ve ever written so it’s feels very unfinished to me although it is actually done. Anyway, I hope you like it! Let me know what you think!

Word Count: 1.8k

The morning sun was low as Calum ventured outside, the neck of his guitar securely in his grasp as he took a steady step down onto the smooth stone path which surrounded his home. The golden glow cascaded across the garden around him, shadows being painted across his surroundings as they danced in the gentle morning breeze. The sun provided a welcomed warmth to his back as he edged towards the small decking area where he usually kept his gym equipment for workouts. 

He held a mug in his hand as he sat himself down, palm curled around the pale ceramic as he lifted it to his lips to take a tentative sip of the bitter brew. His tongue touched his lip as the scalding liquid stung his sensitive skin, leaving a fresh pinch-like feeling behind as he lowered the mug from his face and placed it down next to him. He swallowed his mouthful of the warm coffee, his taste buds bouncing in delight at the shot of caffeine that was entering his system. Coffee was the only way to start his day according to Calum. 

Or so that’s how it used to be.

Looking over to his left, his chin tilting just barely so he could catch a glimpse, his eyes fell to the soft shadows which lay beyond the thin curtains that hung behind the open door that led out into the garden. Small glimpses of you being captured as the soft morning breeze blew, causing the curtains to split and small snapshots of the sight he loved become clear to his eyes.

A smile graced his face as he made out the soft shapes as they moved behind the curtain, the golden light shining against them only to bring out the darkened contrast of the shadow of the body which stood not too far behind it. Every movement was graceful through the curtain, the smooth lines of your body as it moved came across like that of a dance, the gentle lifting of your arm looking like a delicate petal of a rose that flew in the soft breeze.

His eyes were mesmerised as they set on your silhouette through the net curtains, his smile never fading as he watched the gentle movement of your legs as you swayed in place. He knew you weren’t alone, the faded sight of your craned neck looking downwards as your own eyes settled upon the small body that lay peacefully in your arms. He wondered how long she would continue to sleep for, her small body being removed from her crib in the early hours when you both arose from your slumber upon the sound of her soft cries. It wasn’t long before she drifted back to sleep to the gentle sound of your heartbeat as you prepared some morning coffee for yourself and Calum.

Setting the guitar on his lap, the curve of the wood bending so it rested comfortably on his thigh, Calum’s thumb slowly began to brush against the delicate strings. He allowed for his fingers to be placed along the neck of the guitar, knuckles bending as the pads of his fingertips pressed against the strings as he played the familiar chords he had known since he was young. 

A familiar acoustic melody filled the peaceful morning, the plants which littered the dirt along the fence gently blowing in the soft breeze. It was a sound that reminded him of the journey that had led him to where he found himself, what twists and turns he had taken throughout his life that had led him to find himself living a life that he could only have dreamed of living.

The soft words fell from his lips as he continued to play, the familiar lyrics lacing together as they left his tongue in a soft voice as he looked out into the golden rays of the sun as they danced and painted the garden in a beautiful light. The garden had always been a little getaway for the two of you, finding yourselves laying out there as the sun would set at dusk, eyes cast upwards to the sky as you’d watch the shades of orange and red brush across the wide-open canvas. You hoped that one day you’d be able to show your daughter the wonders of the world, to be able to bring her out and sit with her to watch as the sky changed colour, pointing up to the descending sun and waving it a warm goodbye before welcoming the blue moon in its place.

Lyrics slowly turned into mumbles, a soft hum sounding from within his throat as he gently bobbed his head to the rhythm he was creating with his hands. His eyes closed momentarily as he lost himself in the song, his lips curling as memories danced across his mind. Memories of days on the road, memories of late nights spent tucked away in small bunks, and memories of sweet kisses before running off onto stage to the sound of fans calling their name. The song held a lot of memories, most of them happy, some not so, but all of them important, nonetheless. They held memories of days spent with his brothers, days spent with his family, of days spent with you. Those were days he never wanted to forget.

Opening his eyes, Calum looked back towards the open door, the thin curtain having been pulled open so the sunlight could break through the open frame. He could see into the house from where he sat, the strip of sunlight stretching across the wooden floor as far as he could see inside. You were still in his eyeline, your body still gently swaying with every small step you took as you walked around the room. He noticed how your eyes were still settled upon the small body in your arms, your lips curled upwards as they moved and silent words were spoken into the air. He wondered what you were saying, what words you were speaking to the sweet girl who slept against your chest. He wondered if he would ever know the conversation that you shared with her, if he would ever gain knowledge into the private whispers and small giggles that escaped in the moments you stole with her in the times when Calum wasn’t around.

He watched with warm, kind eyes as one of your hands brushed her supple cheek, a finger curling at the second knuckle as you allowed for your skin to brush against hers. The blanket she was wrapped him hung from your arms, soft corners hanging in the air and brushing against your legs with every step that you took. He smiled at how the sleeves of the — his — sweatshirt you wore were slightly bunched up at your wrists, the fabric almost ballooning around your arm due to the size. He took in the tired lines that had pressed into your face, ones that he was sure matched his own, but they were marks that you each came to wear with pride. They were marks of parenthood. 

His smile grew once more as he watched you turn, your body moving towards the open door, your feet coming to a gentle halt just before the doorway. You kept her shielded from the crisp morning air, your sweatshirt-clad arms tucked around her as the oversized fabric acted as a warm wall to protect her from a threatening chill. He could just make out the details of her as you came to the door, his eyes finding the delicate features of her face and feeling how his heart leaped at the sight. She was so precious to see, her eyes closed, and little hands clenched into small fists as they gripped onto the fabric of the sweatshirt that adorned your body.

“I like the summer rain, I like the sounds you make,” Calum’s voice gently carried out into the morning air as he sang the chorus for a final time, eyes remaining set on the sight of his sleeping daughter as he sang, “We put the world away, we get so disconnected.”

Slowly raising his gaze, his eyes came to meet yours. The sight of your smile made his heart feel like it could burst, the slight push up of your cheeks as your eyes were soft as they connected with his. He felt his heart flutter as he continued to sing, fingers strumming the melody of a song he knew you loved to hear, even after all the years. He watched as your body swayed still, your movements in time with the soft strumming on his fingers against the delicate strings of the guitar in his lap.

Eyes never tearing from yours, Calum watched as your lips moved along with the words which he continued to sing, the lyrics being lost in the springtime air as they fell from your lips in a peaceful breath with no volume unlike him. You both kept smiling as Calum reached the end of the song, fingers plucking the melodic chords with ease as he played the final few notes and allowed for his hands to fall against the strings with a final strum.

“I could get used to the sound of you playing in the morning again,” You let out a blissful sigh as you looked out at him. “I’ve missed it, and I think someone else has to.”

Calum chuckled as he stood to his feet, one hand grasping the neck of his guitar, while the other took a hold of the half-empty mug that he had placed on the floor earlier. Bare feet padding against the ground as he made his way back over to where you stood, one foot becoming perched on the step as he came to stand in front of you.

The golden sunlight bounced off him, the warm glow shining against his skin as he stood in the open air. He was a beautiful sight to see, a sight that made your heart sing almost as beautifully as he had done seconds before.

“I guess you could say I was inspired this morning, being in my favourite place with my favourite people,” He let out a soft laugh, his smile wide as he gazed down at you. You joined his eyes as they drifted further down, both sets of eyes falling to the sight of her as she continued to sleep soundly in your arms. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right here.”

There was nothing like being at home, wrapped up in the home comforts that Calum had come to love. His home was his safe space, a place where he could be himself, a place to unwind after a long day, a place where he could find the happiness and beauty in the life that he had claimed for himself. It was a place unlike any other. 

It was a place where he had those who mattered most. It was a place where he had everything he could ever want or need.

There was no place like home.

---

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[jaskiersvalley]

I loved your fic about witchers being afraid of moths so much. I suffer mottophobia as well and the thought that witchers feel the same is nice. So thank you!!!

Nonnie, I'm so pleased you liked that story! Phobias of any kind can be so stressful, I hope moths don't bother you all that often. While I don't have another phobia story for you, I have something a little different that I hope you enjoy.

CW: Panic attacks

It had taken Aiden several years before he broached the idea of wintering together. He knew Lambert went to Kaer Morhen each season and didn't want to be rude by inviting himself to the Wolves' den. But he also didn't want to make Lambert have to choose between seeing his family for the season and accompanying Aiden to the Caravan. Really, he need not have feared because as soon as he brought up the topic of winter, Lambert was jumping at the chance.

"Want to go to the Caravan?"

Just like that, they spent three years wintering with Cats. Lambert fit right in, helping with life on the road without a hitch, messing around, teaching tricks and learning new ones in equal measure. He cooked, did repairs and was as accepted into the Caravan as a stranger could be. It made Aiden wonder whether he missed the pack feel of his own family of Wolves.

"This year-" he said with some hesitance late one summer, "-why don't we go north? Kaer Morhen has probably missed its youngest Wolf."

If Lambert's expression was anything to go by, he didn't agree. "Does the Caravan not want me this year?"

"What?" Aiden scoffed at the notion. "No! I thought you knew they all dote on you. I just thought you might want to spend a season with your family. You met mine..." Not that he'd ever say it out loud but Aiden wanted to meet Lambert's family too, he didn't want to be a shameful secret.

The terse "fine" sounded anything but fine. However, Lambert refused to discuss it any further and, come winter, he led them north. By the time they got to the bottom of the mountain Lambert was tense, quiet and anything he said was cutting. It wasn't the Lambert Aiden knew at all. But he reasoned that maybe Lambert was nervous about bringing a Cat home. The higher up they got, the faster Lambert's heart beat. Perhaps it was the excitement of coming home after so long, at least that was what Aiden told himself. He figured once they were done with the dangerous path up to Kaer Morhen then Lambert would relax. He was wrong.

They made it into the warmth of the halls and what followed was the most uncomfortable introduction Aiden had ever endured. Lambert stopped, arms crossed over his chest as he regarded the other three.

"This is Aiden. You break him, I break your necks." With that, Lambert stomped out, bristling and grumbling under his breath. Hastily, Aiden followed after a quick wave that the three Witchers looking suitably non-plussed by it all.

What was strange was that Lambert didn't settle. He was a fountain of bitter remarks, sarcastic quips and brash aggression. Aiden couldn't make heads or tails of it. The others didn't react, didn't seem like they even wanted to try and calm the situation. In the end Aiden couldn't stand by anymore and cornered Eskel, demanding answers.

"What do you mean?" The thing was, Eskel genuinely seemed confused. "That's just Lambert for you. You've known him for years now, surely you're used to it."

But Aiden wasn't. He hadn't seen Lambert like that before, so on edge. "No," he replied in the end. "This isn't how I know him. His heart rate's high, he's callous, spikey, lashing out. That's not the Lambert I know."

The look Eskel gave him was one of strange reproach. "The mutagens didn't fully take with him, his heart's always been faster than a normal Witcher's. As for the rest, I don't know what swamp water you drink to block it out but that's Lambert in a nutshell."

It wasn't. Aiden knew Lambert, spent years listening to his steady heartbeat, relishing when they fell in sync most nights. He'd seen the kindness and patience Lambert had out on the Path and at the Caravan. There was no mocking for getting footwork wrong, no calling the other person an idiot with a scoff. Nor had Aiden ever seen Lambert pace before, a restless tracing of a path between window and door of the bedroom. The growled "don't touch me" sounded full of threat, so much like a dog trying to prove he could really hurt an opponent in an effort to stave off an actual fight. Seeing Lambert like that hurt and Aiden didn't know what had provoked the change.

Things got worse when they were making repairs to Kaer Morhen, trying to undo all the damage the sacking had done. With the parts they inhabited secure and warm, Vesemir directed their work to the dungeons, salvaging what they could. Smoke stained books and scrolls along with bottles that contained the dregs of potions were pulled from partially collapsed rooms. Lambert was exceptionally acerbic, sniping at everyone including Aiden. It was all ignored until he snapped at Vesemir, "so what's the plan here, old man? Going to open up the torture chambers again to get your rocks off?"

"Another word from you and you'll be running the Killer twice before each meal," Vesemir growled, grabbing another thick book covered in ash and rock debris.

Throwing his hands up, Lambert stormed off, muttering about how he'd rather run the Killer night and day than suffer this idiocy. Nobody seemed to care that his breath had hitched and heartrate was rocketing higher. Well, Aiden cared. Seeing as none of the others looked interested in following Lambert, he took it upon himself.

"Best to leave him," Eskel called after him. "He'll probably destroy a few training dummies in a fit of rage and then calm. Ignoring him leads to the fewest injuries for all."

Not that Aiden cared. He followed the sour scent that Lambert had been coated in all winter, maybe even before that. True to Eskel's prediction, he was in the training yard but he wasn't decimating dummies. Instead, Lambert was staring blankly off into the distance, muscles locked into a tense hunch.

"Lamb?"

His name seemed to jerk Lambert out of whatever thoughts he'd gotten lost in. Whirling, he rounded on Aiden with a snarl. Not rising to it, Aiden held a arm open and stepped closer, inviting Lambert into a cuddle. His heart broke a little when Lambert reared away, spitting with rage. "Don't touch me!"

Truthfully, Aiden didn't have to, he could see the solid lines of muscles, coiled tight. Everything about Lambert screamed to be left alone but he couldn't, not when there was something so underlyingly wrong. If Aiden didn't know any better, he'd have said that anyone else behaving like Lambert was having a silent panic attack. Maybe Aiden didn't know any better. He'd rarely heard Lambert speak of Kaer Morhen or the others, and when it did it wasn't with fondness. Around them was destruction, every stone imbued with memories of a hard life. Aiden knew that the instructors were harsh, often punishing Lambert with a cane or deprivation as he grew up. Vesemir had been one of those men and Lambert had to face his tormentor on a daily basis. They'd been digging up the dungeon where the trials had been administered, pulling what they could on how to recreate the them. Each crumbling wall was another layer of memories of the sacking, of a life Lambert hated but had no idea how to leave behind. When the misery was the only thing he knew, the only steady thing in his life, it was easier to cling to it rather than embrace the terror of the unknow.

Keeping his distance, Aiden nodded. "It's okay." It wasn't but he had no idea what else to say. They were going to have to get through winter, it was too late to head down the mountain. But as soon as it was safe, Aiden was whisking Lambert away from it. He wasn't letting him face the traumas of his past again and again. It wasn't healthy to rip open those wounds, to come face to face with living memories each time he saw Vesemir and Kaer Morhen.

When Aiden stepped in again, Lambert didn't scuttle away. Instead, he was stiff as a board in Aiden's arms, quivering with pent up emotions. Slowly, Aiden rubbed his back, tried to urge him to relax into his hold. Ever so gradually Lambert did, letting Aiden take a fair chunk of his weight as the shaking got more pronounced. Without a word, Aiden held him, gave him the quiet and the space to finally fall apart. It made him wonder whether, in years gone by, Lambert would allow himself to break apart each night in the privacy of his room. Now, with Aiden there, had he been trying to hold it all together, no space safe enough to let his emotions out? Shuddering at the thought, Aiden held Lambert tighter. Come next year, they were going to spend winter with the Caravan again. Never again was Lambert going to have to face the haunting wraiths of his past. Not if Aiden could help it.

[aizawa-needs-coffee]

do you do soulmate aus at all? if u do id like a dabi x reader, yandere or not! tho i would prefer yandere plz xxxx

I love me a soulmate AU, there are so many so I hope you like this one.

Soulmate AU where your soulmates first words to you are written on your skin but appear when your 16.

Yandere!Dabi x Reader No smut but dark themes Soulmate AU GN/NB reader Word count: 1,350 No proof reading

Everybody In The World Knows I’m A Little Bit Twisted

In a world of quirks, it didn’t seem so odd that soulmates should exist either, the words your soulmate would first say to you would appear somewhere on your skin when you reached the age of sixteen, everyone was always so excited to see what beautiful words would appear. Words that would encourage them through the dark times, keep them going when they were low, put smiles on their face at the end of a day. The comfort and warmth from knowing somewhere out there the perfect person was waiting.

Not everyone was so lucky though, you could remember the day you got yours appeared on your wrist, a bracelet of beautifully written words, italics, elegant and tasteful, at least they would have been if their contents weren’t so ugly.

“Won’t you let me ruin you?”

You didn’t understand the words at first, how your parents exchanged such pained looks, watching as their child’s skin was marred with such a violent promise. As you grew up you hated them, covered them in winter with long sleeves, a thick sweat band in summer. You’d gone to places for a tattoo, you wanted the threat on your skin gone, washed away to forget about but nowhere would do it, not wanting the bad karma of messing with destiny, no matter how doomed it would make you.

All your life would were jealous of your friends and their sweet or sometimes silly soulmate marks, you’d never share yours and whenever the subject came up you’d go silent or excuse yourself form the group. It wasn’t fair, although school and as you worked you feared every person you met, everyone a potential threat to harm you. You preyed every day you never met your partner.

You had dated people, not everyone let themselves be bound by their mark, trying to find someone until then, trying to ignore the complications of settling down with someone, making a life and a future just for their true soulmate to appear and shatter whatever illusions of happiness they’d held before.

Time passes, time makes you complacent and helps you forget. Years passed and your circle of friends never mentioned soul mates around you, not even when one by one they all found theirs, getting into happy, picture perfect relationships, you did your best to be happy for them, but you never gave your missing soulmate a second thought. You would rather die alone then picture the person capable of uttering those words to you.

Walking home one night after your last single friend announced they were getting married after just a short year of being with their soulmate had you wanting to drown your sorrows, you’d been subtle as you downed shots and took free drinks from your celebrating friends, all too distracted by the happiness of their friend to notice you slowly sinking into the abyss you’d settled into.

You stumbled along the sidewalk, on your way home, cursing at each piece of trash that blew across your path, blaming your almost tripping on your own feet on the mess. You didn’t live in the best nor worst area, but hero’s always patrolled. You hoped they wouldn’t harass you or come to your aid, you didn’t need anyone trying to pull you out of your misery.

Content to stumble and drag yourself home, drink more until you were too inebriated to think, to feel, to do anything other then cry in the shower before falling asleep alone in your big empty bed. You sighed feeling your head spinning too much to focus on the steps you took, the pavement being rude by shaking. Your eyelids too heavy to stay open, you saw the ally, it looked empty enough, you were proud of yourself for climbing on a crate to sit atop the stack, taking a deep breath, the cold air felt good against your burning up skin, shrugging off your jacket you rubbed your arms, goosebumps that your drunk mind didn’t register.

You closed your eyes, for just a second, trying to ignore how the darkness behind your lids even swam and twirled making you regret every choice you’d made that evening. You ignored the footsteps, the crunching of glass under food, someone walking past the allies opening, you hoped it wasn’t some patronizing hero coming to ‘walk you home’ or lecture you on being this drunk or alone at night.

The steps echoed in the ally, and you let your tired eyes flutter open, brows furrowed and ready to give the hero a mouthful of attitude, not in the mood for any more bullshit from people in a better place in life to talk down to you with. You couldn’t handle another pitying tone tonight.

He stood there, head cock to the side with bright blue eyes looking you over, regarding the slouched position you’d allowed yourself to slip into with a crooked grin. The intense look in the black haired mans eyes caused even you in your drunken stupor to sit up straight, clutching for your jacket and to where your cell phone was nestled in your pocket, but the clothing slipped down the back of the wooden stack of crates you used as your drunken throne.

Dabi stared at you, the smirk on his marked-up face growing greater as you just stared at him wide eyed, sloshed out of your mind, he could smell the booze and feel the sheer bitterness of your situation roll off you. He didn’t say a word as he took one step closer, hands in his pockets, the way his heavy boots crunched on the gravel echoing in the dead silent ally.

Neither of you broke the painful silence, your fear pushing the drunk nonchalance from your cloudy head, something about him, his face, ringing a bell somewhere in your subconscious told you to run, escape this man with the bright blue eyes and patchwork skin was going to be your end. Both staring at each other, the eye contact intense, until you scrambled and hopped off of the stack of junk, hitting the ground and almost falling flat on your face, hands scuffed against the dirty floor as you used your palms to push yourself up and forward with all your might, the stranger let out a laugh, deep, gravely like the ground you tried to propel yourself forward on.

Running, limping, tripping over your feet, legs, were your limbs always this long or were you that fucked that gravity and your mass confused you so much? You didn’t care, your mind just screaming at you as you ran down the ally, a chain link fence at the end, without a second thought you launched yourself at it, the clinking and rustling so loud in your pounding head. Your feet struggled to find purchase in the holes, you scrabbled halfway up just to cut yourself on a sharp piece that stuck out, you let out a whine and fell back down.

Another laugh from Dabi had you turning around, pressing yourself so hard against the metal fence it felt like it could cut you into cubes, digging into your skin as your heart and head raced, the sweat rolling down your face as you gripped the chain with trembling fingers, he caged you in, big boots either side of your feet.

“Leave me alone, please” your voice so small but what you said had those beautiful dangerous looking eyes widen, the smirk on his face gone for a second before an even wicked one replaced it.

He slammed one hand onto the fence next to your head, the manic look on his face as he used his other hand to pull up the sleeve of his trench coat. There in font that looked like it had been ink in the rain, half on good skin half disfigured like the burns on his flesh but you could still make out the words written there, the very same ones that you had pleaded to him just moments ago.

“Won’t you let me ruin you?”

[king-finnigan]

If you're still doing prompts... Maybe Geraskier 9 and 21? ;u; I'm a sucker for hurt/comfort.

9. “You really thought I was dead?” 21. “I…I can’t do this without you.”

Geralt is in Temeria when the news first reaches him: Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount De Lettenhove, has died. 

It happened several months ago - news doesn’t travel south as fast as it used to, now that everyone is fleeing north, away from Nilfgaard. Geralt doesn’t believe it at first, refuses to believe it for even a second, as a matter of fact. After all, Jaskier is young and healthy and perfectly safe in Lettenhove, last Geralt heard, so why would he die so soon, so unexpected?

But, he figures as he travels north, towards Lettenhove, it’s been ages since he’s last seen Jaskier, since they parted ways on the mountain. Maybe he fell ill, maybe he got hurt someway, somehow. Maybe his death wasn’t as unexpected as Geralt would like to think it was. 

The closer he gets to Kerack, the more he learns about Jaskier’s supposed death. And the more he starts to believe it.

Jaskier apparently fell sick several weeks ago - no one’s sure what it was that took him down, even now - and he fought a long and hard battle against his illness, before eventually succumbing to it in the middle of the night. His funeral was held several days later, his body laid on a pyre under a blue and gold shroud, every precaution taken to make sure his illness couldn’t possibly spread to anyone else. His ashes were scattered in the forest behind the Lettenhove estate, a gravestone placed under his favourite tree.

They say that in his final hours, he begged to see an old friend one last time. 

The silence weighs heavy on Geralt, now, as he makes his way to the north, to Kerack. More so than even during the first few weeks after the mountain, he misses Jaskier’s voice, the idle strumming of his lute, the constant chatter and too-fast heartbeat following Geralt wherever he goes. Wherever he used to go.

More than ever, he regrets what he said on the mountain. Wishes he could’ve taken it all back before the end, or could’ve at least told Jaskier how much he regrets his words. 

He wishes he could’ve told Jaskier how much he loves him.

Loved him. 

When he rides into Lettenhove, the town is clad in black, still, even after all these months, and he can tell how much these people loved Jaskier, too. Dozens of eyes follow him as he rides through the strangely quiet streets, towards the estate, whispers rising in the silence, of the Witcher, master Julian’s Witcher is here. 

He pays no mind to them. Instead, he keeps his eyes ahead. He leaves Roach behind at the edge of the forest, setting out on foot to find the tree with Jaskier’s headstone.

He finds it soon enough. It’s under an old willow tree, next to a small stream cutting through the tall grass. It’s truly beautiful here, a final resting place fitting for the the bard.

He falls to his knees in front of the large stone, trails his fingers over the letters carved into it, as tears slowly fill his eyes. He can’t help but curl in on himself, the pain in his chest worse than any wound he’s ever endured, every muscle in his body quivering with the effort not to scream out his agony for the entire world to hear.

“Jaskier, I- I...” He doesn’t know why he’s talking, now. Twenty years Jaskier’s spent by his side, and never once has Geralt been able to truly talk to the man, but now that Jaskier’s gone, Geralt suddenly can find the words? He nearly laughs at the bitter irony of it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice raw, tears unshed at the back of his throat. “I’m sorry for everything. For yelling at you, for abandoning you, for not coming here sooner, for everything I’ve ever done to you. I’m so sorry, Jaskier. I... I can’t do this without you.” His voice breaks on a quiet sob, bitter tears spilling down his face as he clutches his stomach with one hand, the other clenching around the stone.

“Geralt...” 

His eyes fly open, and he turns his head so fast he hears a few neck bones pop. There, behind him, not ten feet away, is Jaskier, alive and well. Geralt nearly slips in the tall grass in his hurry to get up, but in the blink of an eye, he’s holding the bard against his chest, drinking in the familiar scent of lavender and sandalwood like a man dying of thirst. 

Jaskier protests softly, hands coming up to tug at Geralt’s arms around him. “Alright, alright.” His voice is muffled by Geralt’s shirt. “Good to see you too, but can you give me some room to breathe?”

With an effort that leaves Geralt’s head spinning, he slowly loosens his grip on the bard, letting him pull back to look at him. “Jaskier,” he whispers.

Jaskier rolls his eyes, a playful smile dancing across his lips as his arms settle around the Witcher. “Geralt,” he whispers back in the same tone. He grins, and the sight leaves Geralt breathless with relief and joy. “Not that I don’t appreciate your enthusiasm and that little speech you gave just now at...” he frowns “my father’s headstone for some reason. But I have to ask. Why?”

Geralt frowns, turning his head to look at the stone. “Your... your father has the same name as you?”

“Yes, he does. Wait- you thought that was me? You really thought I was dead?”

Geralt doesn’t respond, merely burying his nose into the side of Jaskier’s neck, letting lavender and sandalwood calm him down as the bard quietly laughs.

“Sweet Melitele, Geralt, if I’d known you cared enough to cry over my grave, I would’ve...” He’s suddenly quiet, and Geralt can smell the faint heat of embarrassment mixing in with Jaskier’s familiar scent.

He pulls back, frowning at Jaskier, who’s now blushing a bit. “You would’ve what?”

Jaskier swallows thickly, blue eyes searching Geralt’s face intently, as if he’s looking for something. “I would’ve kissed you sooner.”

Geralt blinks, not sure how to respond. But, he figures, sometimes the best response is no response at all. He pulls Jaskier closer, crashing their lips together unelegantly, and the bard lets out a surprised sound, before melting into the kiss. 

Eventually, Geralt pulls away, gasping in lungfuls of sweet summer air, his head filled with lavender and sandalwood and bright blue eyes. The last golden rays of sunlight illuminate Jaskier, casting a halo around his head, the first chill of autumn creeping into the air.

“Come to Kaer Morhen with me this winter,” he says before he can think twice about it. “Please.”

Jaskier huffs out an incredulous laugh. “Gods, I’d thought you’d never ask, Geralt.”

He frowns. “So... is that a yes?”

Jaskier laughs, bright and crisp and sweet, the sound of it washing over Geralt like a gentle breeze. “Yes! Of course that’s a yes, you absolute idiot.” He pulls Geralt closer, and Geralt lets himself be held, the weight of the last few weeks falling off his shoulders, finally, Jaskier alive and well in his arms.

[stardusttrashed]

Drunk In Love

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: Swearing, Drunk reader, Fluff, Angst (if you squint), Brief mentions of NSFW

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Fem!reader

Summary: Katsuki comes to pick you up from a hangout after you drunk called him 

A/n: loosely based off drunk me... yes I hogged all the watermelon jolly ranchers by putting them in my bra, don’t judge lol. Also all characters are of drinking age

“Where’s my little dumbass,” Katsuki grumbled as he stood outside the door. The bitter cold was slowly beginning to seep through his numerous layers. He jammed his hands into his pockets, hunched over from the cold and out of annoyance. It was three in the morning and beginning to snow, yet here he was miles away from his warm, cozy house because you had drunkenly called not once but five times. 

“Over there hogging all the Jolly Ranchers,” Sero laughed, nodding over his shoulder. The cold outside air was hitting him like a truck, killing the little buzz he had. He stepped aside, making room for Katsuki to come inside. “She won’t let me get one until she’s done.”

Katsuki could hear your carefree giggles from inside the room, followed by delighted squeals. “What does this one say?” You asked with childlike curiosity as you shoved the piece of candy into Mina’s view.

Katsuki sighed and shook his head, holding back a laugh. “Tch, figures. Damn idiot,” he muttered under his breath as he stepped inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. 

“How’s it going outside?” Sero crossed his arms as he leaned against the wall, casually huddling up to regain the warmth he just lost. “Heard it’s supposed to get colder.”

Katsuki shrugged nonchalantly, “started snowing on my way here.” The small two-bedroom apartment felt like a warm summer’s day compared to the frigid weather. It was like being thrown straight into an oven after spending so long in a freezer. He shrugged off his coat and shoes, “couldn’t exactly ignore her calls, though.” His eyes scanned the small, open room for you. 

“Denki,” you giggled loudly, immediately getting Katsuki’s attention. “I said only watermelon flavor dummy.” Katsuki watched as you pulled a Jolly Rancher out of your shirt. “This isn’t even red, dumbass,” you slurred before throwing the purple piece of candy at Denki’s chest.

“Yeah, dummy,” Mina teased with a smirk. She leaned forward, hunching over to look over your shoulder. You were comfortably situated in between her legs, sitting on the floor in front of her while she sat on the couch. “That’s another cherry, sweetie.”

“Thanks, doll face,” you beamed, blowing her a kiss before tossing the piece into the pile on the coffee table. 

“Here’s another,” Kirishima called out, holding a piece up in the air. Unlike Denki and Mina, Kirishima had mainly kept to himself. He was sprawled out on the loveseat, legs hanging over the armrest. It was comfortable, but he’d be lying if he said part of him didn’t want to be closer to Mina and Denki, helping you stuff the candies into your bra. You were cute; there was no denying that, nor was there any denying that he had the biggest crush on you in high school. But you were dating Katsuki now, and no amount of drinks could make him forget that.

Katsuki watched as Mina and Denki drunkenly scrambled to grab the piece from Kirishima. It was like watching an intense tug of war match between toddlers. His eyes wandered away from them, taking in the empty bottles and candy strewn across the room. 

“Got it,” Mina shouted with a wide grin, grabbing Katsuki’s attention once again. She sat back down on the couch, allowing you to settle between her legs once again. She stuck her tongue out at Denki like a child before focusing on you. Giggles spilled from her mouth, fueled on by your giggles as she reached in your shirt and tucked the piece of candy into your already full bra. 

“Touch her boobs again, and you’re dead raccoon eyes,” Katsuki snapped as she pulled her hand out of your shirt. He let out a huff of satisfaction as Mina and Denki scrambled away from you. “The same goes for the rest of you!” Despite the vagueness of his words, his eyes bore holes into the side of Denki’s head, who refused to make eye contact.

“Is that my Katsuki baby,” you squealed, scrambling to your feet. You could barely stand, your legs wobbling like jelly as you made your way towards him. “Hi, baby! I missed you tons,” you slurred with a dopey smile on your face. You threw your arms around his neck partially to anchor yourself, but mostly just to hold him close. “I haven’t seen you in forever.” 

Katsuki shook his head with an amused chuckle. There was no doubt you were drunk, and as much as he wanted to be upset, he couldn’t be. You were like a child in a candy store, eyes wide and full of awe as you looked up at him. “Hey princess,” he cooed quietly as he wrapped his arm around your waist. “I’ve missed you too.” His free hand cupped your cheek gently, his thumb gently tracing your cheekbone. The way you leaning into his touch brought a loving smile onto his face. “But, I see you’ve been having fun.”

“I would’ve had more if you were here the whole time,” you huffed with a pout. You swore you could feel yourself becoming drunker and drunker from him. His touch. His crimson eyes. His warmth. The sweet burnt caramel smell. Everything about him was intoxicating. He made you drunker than any drink could, and the scariest part was just how addicting he was. You needed your little gremlin more than you needed the air in your lungs. “So pretty,” you muttered under your breath. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward, pressing your lips against his. 

The kiss was shorter than you both would’ve liked, feeling more like a tease than anything else. Katsuki was the first to pull back, causing you to whine quietly.

“Taste?” you asked worriedly, reaching up to wipe away the crinkles of disgust on his nose. Katsuki was never much of a drinker for as long as you have known him. The most you’ve ever seen him have was two shots, so he usually ended up being the designated driver between the two of you. Out of all the conversations you’ve had with him about it, you could never figure out which part he hated more--the taste or becoming impaired. “‘M sorry,” you continued without waiting for an answer.

“It’s okay, baby,” Katsuki reassured you, forcing himself to give you another peck on the lips. Out of everything that came from you drinking, this was always his least favorite part. He hated how the alcohol took over until it was all he could taste on your lips. He missed your naturally sweet taste that would get him drunker than any amount of shots he could ever take. Yet he loved how needily affectionate you’d become, showering him with love and compliments--not that he’d ever tell you. “See, no need to apologize,” he cooed, kissing your forehead. 

“I can kiss her for you,” Denki drunkenly shouted, the alcohol providing him a scary amount of courage. The stupid grin on his face quickly vanished as Katsuki glared daggers at him.

“As If,” you quickly cut in before Katsuki could rip him a new one. “Only kisses I wan’ are from my honey bunches of oats right ‘ere.” You smiled up at him, “right, baby?” You weren’t sure what exactly you were asking about—everything you just said barely processing in your head.

“Good answer, sweetheart.” He leaned in to reward you with a kiss but stopped short at the squeak that sounded from you.

You pressed your finger against his lips, stopping him from coming any closer. “Hol’ on.” You dug around in your bra and pulled out a Jolly Rancher, promptly popping it into your mouth. “Ta-da! Now I’ll taste yummy,” you slurred with a giggle as you sucked on the hard candy.

Katsuki chuckled proudly, hooking his finger under your chin, “you always taste yummy to me.” He pressed his lips against yours, gentle at first but growing increasingly possessive once he notices Denki stealing glances your way. He teasingly sucked on your lower lip, eliciting a soft moan from you. Katsuki took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, caressing your tongue with his until he grabbed ahold of the candy in your mouth, taking it for himself. Despite the hunger in the kiss, when he pulled away, all you could make out in his crimson eyes were complete adoration. “Now, let’s get you home, yeah?” 

You cupped your hand around your mouth and drunkenly whispered, “can we fuck when we get home?” 

“Some other time,” he gently kissed your lips once more, “you need water and rest.”

“Cuddles?” You asked with a pout.

“Sure, sweetheart-.”

“And head?”

“Y/n…”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you squealed before throwing your arms around his neck. “Bye, guys! Katsuki and I are gonna fuck!”

“No, we aren’t.”

“Denki, I’ll call if we don’t!”

Katsuki growled as he wrapped a protective arm around your waist, “like hell, you will!” His hand holding your waist began to flicker as sparks were being created like little poopers. “You’re mine! I’ll kill-,” Katsuki shouted. 

“I’m kiddin’,” you giggle, giving his cheek a peck. “Totally kiddin’ dummy. Y’know I’d only call cutie pie Kiri.” You could feel Kirishima snap his head towards you, his eyes boring into your side. With a shrug, you ignore Katsuki’s shocked look, “he’s cute and sweet. Oh, and easy to make hard!”

“Shut the hell up,” Katsuki snapped as he angrily put his jacket on you. 

“Cause his quirk,” you continued.

“I said shut it!”

“He’s like my dream boyfriend, and you’re my dream husband, y’know.”

“Another damn word, and you won’t get cuddles.”

You gasped, bouncing on the balls of your feet a few times before losing balance and falling into Katsuki’s chest. “Cuddles and fries?”

“No. I’ll see you guys later,” Katsuki called out over his shoulder as he ushered you to the door. 

“Kiri woulda said yes,” you shrugged as you followed him out into the cold. You clung to his arm for dear life, trying to keep him warm and help yourself stand upright. 

“I’m going to blow you to bits if you don’t shut up.”

“Nah, uh, you love me too much.”

“I swear I’m gonna murder you.”

“With love?”

“No.” 

“Rude! My husband Katsuki wouldn’t treat me like this. He’d give me all the cuddles and fries I wan’.” 

“Sure he would,” he huffed as he opened the car door for you. His cheeked grew warm at your new name for him.

“He would! Cause I love ‘im fuck tons and he loves me-,” you gasped, just now realizing the thin white sheet on the ground. “It’s snowing!”

“Y/n, if you don’t get your ass in the car,” Katsuki groaned. “It’s snowing, it’s cold, and I have to drive home to give you cuddles and fries. So, please.” 

“Okay, hubby,” you smiled sleepily, complying almost instantly and earning a chuckle from him. Your eyes followed him as he leaned over you, buckling you in before handing you the bottle of water from the cup holder. “Y’know, I think you’re cuter than Kiri, and I love ya a lot more.”

Katsuki didn’t reply to you; instead, he closed your door and walked around to the driver’s side. He had buckled in and already began driving before he placed his hand over yours, “I love you too, little dumbass.”

“Your dumbass?” You asked as you took a sip of water.

“My beautiful, drunk, dumbass wifey,” he confirmed with a teasing smirk. 

[amonrawya]

The Greatest Gift of All

(Inspired by^ for the people who asked :D hope it was worth the wait!)

*

Long before the war, before Captain America or the Winter Soldier, there was simply Bucky and Steve. At least, that's what history says. But they missed out one very important person, a girl called Y/N.

Women in those times often found themselves with little opportunity, and only two easily attainable pathways in life: wife and mother. But Y/N carved out a life for herself that defied all expectations, and it all started in Brooklyn.

She dived headlong into scuffles, usually next to Bucky in defence of Steve. Regardless of the opponent, Y/N stood by them both, and often held her own quite impressively.

Her dress style borrowed from more masculine cuts, and Y/N was never seen without her cap. A lot of people had a problem with this, but she shut them up fairly swiftly.

Everything about this girl drew Bucky in, a battle he fought with little effort. They reveled in each other, flaunting their love at every opportunity. More than a few were jealous that the rough and tumble girl got the best looking boy in town. 

In a way, before even coming of age, they started an adult life together. The three of them moved into a flat. Y/N and Bucky took hard labour jobs, or anything they could get. They had little room to be picky. 

Both managed to hook steady summer jobs at the local docks. They used most of their money to keep a roof over their heads, buy food, and pay for Steve's medical needs. He attended art school, and sold his work every now and then; but physically, he was in no condition to work.

The war appeared on the horizon, just as they started to pull themselves an inch above the poverty line. Y/N saw it coming, the inevitable. She treasured every second they spent together, and dreaded the day when the draft came.

A lot of the older women she worked with were disrespectful, looking down on her pre-marital relationship with Bucky. They claimed she couldn't possibly understand their grief, despite the fact Y/N had seen Bucky off at the docks that very morning. 

In truth, they already planned on being married, but at the time, they simply didn't have the funds. Bucky promised, once the war ended, that ring would be on her finger.

Except, he never came home. Not properly. The person Hydra gave back to Y/N was damaged and jaded, angry at the world, angrier than she ever saw. But still, they loved each other. Though she never forgave them for stealing away his innocence, for trying to snuff out the light in his soul. A part of him would always belong to them, and she hated it.

Refusing to stay home while they risked their lives, never knowing, Y/N trained as an army nurse, working specially with the Howling Commandos unit.

Then one day, she went out to welcome them back from a mission. Every face looked devastated, but none more so than Steve. His eyes, red-raw and streaming, seemed incapable of rising from the ground. At first, the realisation didn't process, the idea simply incomprehensible. He promised.

Dugan was the one to finally break through and catch Y/N as she fell, holding her as the tears poured. Once he shook off his daze, Steve took his place, sharing in her grief.

Her world fell apart so quickly, with no warning and no mercy. Their commanders celebrated the capture of Arnim Zola, while Y/N and Steve sat, staring at an empty place at their side.

Everyone mourned Bucky, and swiftly after, began to mourn Y/N, too. The loss took a part of her...the sparkle, the happiness, the laugh that lit up her face. It all vanished. She worked hard, looked after them all, but only Steve was able to make her smile. Even then, it looked pained.

So when Steve went down with the plane, the very last shred of Y/N died with him. No tears left her eyes, no screams ripped up her throat. A cold numbness took over, freezing the woman from the inside out. 

V-Day came and went. The Commandos stood and drank to their lost comrades, and Dugan silently drank another...for the loss of a bright, fiery girl who had virtually nothing to lose, and still lost everything.

She spent her days as a robot, doing nothing but going through the motions of badly imitating life. The flat was empty and quiet, yet somehow, bursting with the ghosts of her loved ones. Nightmares plagued her, terrible images of Bucky's body, forever trapped in a freezing hell, nothing but food for the birds. And Steve, his body...was it cast adrift in the ocean? Or destroyed, burnt to ash in the belly of a metal beast. 

They were simple folk before the war turned them into soldiers, into weapons. Before symbols and flags stole away their names, driving them to sacrifice their lives for a greater cause.

Y/N knew their fight against Hydra was important...knew the honour behind their sacrifice. But when it's you left sitting at an empty dinner table, it's much easier to be angry and bitter.

She never married, never settled, bouncing around countries working as an army nurse. The Commandos slowly died around her, each one fading to grey as the curtain drew the show to a close. Each death, each funeral ripped open her wounds, bigger and deeper each time. Until eventually, Y/N let the blood flow freely.

Or at least, that's what would have happened. But one choice, one decision, made by a boy she thought dead in the far future, changed it all.

*

Bucky Barnes struggled to find himself again. His memories were mostly all returned, if a bit hazy and fragmented. He had Steve there to right any wrong recollections, and connect with on their shared experiences. But something always seemed to be missing, a piece of the jigsaw that hadn't been found.

He remembered Y/N. He remembered her clearer than anything. She was glowing like honey in the sun when Bucky closed his eyes and brought her back to mind.

Face covered in muck, hair tousled and streaked with grease from the boats, soot on the very tip of her nose and a cap perched jauntily on her head; wearing the deepest expression of concentration as she aimed a hanful of rotten fish guts at the sleezy Connell boy from Fifth, who decided his opinion on her backside mattered. The image shone crystal clear. Her laughter, rolling out from between curved lips, beautiful and full of mischief. 

It never failed to make him smile. Or cry. Or sometimes, both. He missed Y/N than he thought possible for a human being. 

Bucky often wondered about her life, whether she went on to marry, or maybe even have children. Was she happy? Did she bury him and move on? If they met today, would Y/N even recognise the man he was now? 

More importantly, in his mind, something he both feared and longed to know: would she still love him?

Unbeknownst to Bucky, Steve saw all this. Understood, to a degree, his pain. But he and Peggy never got the chance to bond so strongly. He knew Bucky needed him, but Steve also knew he needed Y/N more.

So once his goodbyes were said, he looked one last time at Bucky, and smiled beneath his suit as he vanished into time.

*

The living room looked exactly the same as he remembered. Bucky's coat, slung over the back of the chair, his sketchbooks strewn around the desk. Every rip and chip. His heart swelled with nostalgia, and pain, thinking of the life they were supposed to have.

What must have been in their heads...running off to fight, so eager to throw everything away. And who was left to stare at empty beds and eat breakfast alone every morning? Y/N.

His chest constricted, hearing the keys in the door, the lock rattling three times before letting her in. His nerve faltered for the briefest second, wondering if he was ready to see her again.

"Who the hell are you?!"

Time's up.

Slowly, he turned, and watched as Y/N's eyes widened, all the bags in her hands falling to the floor with a crash.

"...Stevie?" The name came out as a whisper, nearly inaudible.

He grinned, laughing as tears stung his eyes. "Hey, spitfire. Long time no see."

"Steve!" She launched herself at him, arms wrapping around his neck and clinging on for dear life. 

Catching her by the waist, he swung Y/N around, burying his face in her hair. They held onto one another as if they might vanish if they let go. But after a minute, Steve gently pushed her back.

"How? How are you here? What are you wearing? I don't understand, Steve, they said you died! Your plane went down in the ocean," she stammered, hand on his forearm with a grip like a vice.

"I survived. The serum kept me alive in the ice for seventy years," he said, questioning his own sanity momentarily; standing in the flat again made everything that happened seem like a distant dream.

Y/N frowned, brows knitting together. "What? Did you hit your head? Steve, this is 1945."

"I know, I came from 2023. I'm alive," he said, and saw her mentally backing away, so added, "I'm alive, and so is Bucky."

Her head snapped up, eyes immediately filling with tears. A dozen emotions whizzed through them in a second; disbelief, pain, hope. It shone clearly in her face as she stepped closer.

What did you say?" She asked, voice choked as she brought her shaking hands up to her mouth.

"Bucky's alive," he repeated softly, "and I can send you to him, in the future. But we don't have a lot of time. You need to listen to me, carefully, and do what I say."

She spluttered, struggling for words. "I, but...what about you?"

"I've made my decision," Steve said, and gently took her hands in his, "now, please, listen."

*

Bucky watched the machine, feeling a wave of numbness wash over his insides. Nothing was a better deal than the pain, the cruel sting of betrayal fighting to be felt. But he beat it back, unable to allow those thoughts validation.

Steve gave up so much for him, he fought for years to get him here. Steve deserved this. And no matter how wrong those words sounded in his head, he resolutely stood by them. 

The seconds ticked by, noted by Bruce's countdown. A flash of guilt almost made Bucky explain what was going to happen, explain that Steve left them. Left him. But he possessed no energy to speak, they'd see in a second, when no one appeared-

Zap. A blinding flash of light.

There's someone there.

Bucky frowned, hands falling from his pockets. Did Steve change his mind? Did he...

All the thoughts in his head stopped as the figure stepped down. Too small, too lithe for it to be Steve. Bucky's heart rate quickened, something in his unconscious already registering his recognition. 

The suit fell away, and if he weren't frozen in place, Bucky wouldn't have been standing. A quiver shot through him, nearly buckling his knees. Shock, fear and pure disbelief all delayed his reaction.

Y/N looked around, amazed, but turned to stone as she set eyes on him. Her face went utterly blank, a strangled sound leaving her lips.

Wearing her yard slacks, with a small bag on her shoulder, her face covered in dirt, hair streaked with grease, cap perched on-top, slanted to one side...she was everything he remembered, and his heart tried to leave his chest to go to her. To be whole again.

But fear held him back. She didn't know the things he'd done, the person he became after the train accident. What if-

"Who is she?" Sam asked, glaring as he stalked towards her, an accusation rising on his lips.

Bucky answered without hesitation, or thinking; the question had been asked countless times over the years. It always recieved the same reply. "My doll."

Sam stopped short, glancing between them, the way neither took their eyes off the other. He nodded, brows still closely knit, and backed off.

Slowly, Y/N approached, encouraged by the sound of his voice. She reached out carefully, when she got close enough. Trembling fingers brushed his cheek, and a shudder ran through her. 

"My Bucky..." She said quietly, eyes roaming over his face, a small smile tugging at her lips, "...you're here, in front of me. Alive."

He swallowed dryly, heart thundering away beneath his skin. "I'm different...you don't know..."

No sooner had the words left his mouth that her eyes found the cold metal where his flesh used to be. In reaching to hold it, she'd been taken by surprise.

Gently, Y/N took the hand in her own, examing the limb with a careful gaze. Moments passed, and she met his eyes again. Bucky steeled himself for rejection, for the disgust and horror.

Her hand went back to his cheek, and he involuntairly leaned into it. The warmth seeped into his blood. She stood on her tip toes, the smile on her lips blossoming into a bright beam of sunlight. "You've always been my Bucky, and always will be. Metal appendages and all."

He fell apart and dove down to capture her lips, clutching her to him with the hunger of a starving man. She pulled herself in, hands tangling in his brown locks, and both tasted salt on the others' lips.

So filled with joy his heart could burst, Bucky revelled in the feeling of holding his girl again. Laughing through the tears, he buried his face in her neck.

Thank you, Steve, for the greatest gift of all.

[collecting-stories]

Hey lovely! I absolutely adored your Lovesick fic! Would you be able to do a prompt with 34, 47 & 85 with like super flirty JJ. And they have only known each other a short while🥰

Partying with tourons wasn’t unheard of. In fact, it wasn’t even unusual. The Outer Banks were swarming with families on vacation from the beginning of May until the bitter end of summer and all those new comers usually blended into the local life, going to parties or on dates or just generally hanging out. That was the category you had fallen into. Here for two weeks, fourteen days. You’d met JJ on your first day, out at the beach with your little sister while your parents went for lunch, trying not to be conspicuous as you openly ogled him.

In your defense, he was incredibly attractive, even more so having just come out of the water, surfboard under his arm as he stopped to talk to a friend. A friend who definitely noticed you watching because they nudged JJ and pointed you out, all while you turned as quickly away from him as humanly possible. Maybe your sister could be convinced to bury you in the sand.

“I saw that,” he called, completely unbothered when other people looked over to see who he was talking to. You didn’t look, too mortified to confirm that he was definitely talking to you. “You just checked me out!”

It didn’t matter that you refused to meet his eyes that day, JJ somehow managed to become a permanent fixture of your temporary vacation. Your time in the Outer Banks was always limited and, while that fact alone kept you from trying anything with JJ, it didn’t stop either of you from flirting.

And tonight, on your last night before packing up to return to your normal life, you had snuck out to a bonfire that the pogues were hosting at the boneyard, spotting JJ in the crowd almost immediately.

“Hey,” you swiped his cup from his hand, taking a long sip of the cheap beer that he and Pope had set up. He was sitting, legs spread, in one of the old camp chairs John B had set up around the fire and you took a seat on his lap without warning, ignoring the girl next to him who had very clearly been flirting when you walked up.

It wasn’t your place to feel territorial but this was your last night before driving home and you weren’t going to miss a golden opportunity because someone else had his attention first.

“Hey yourself,” he greeted, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Glad you could make it.”

John B had suggested that he just get it over with and hook up with you but JJ liked the game the two of you were playing too much to cut it off. You’d been dropping hints back and forth for two weeks, seeing which one of you would give in first. Would you go home and tell your friends all about the boy from the Outer Banks?

“And miss my last obx party?” You asked.

“Here I thought you came down just to see me.” He replied. JJ wrapped his hand around your wrist, bringing the cup you were still holding up to his lips so he could take a sip without taking it from you.

“A little bit of both.”

The party lulled into something more of a lazy hang out, some people moving on but most just hanging around in groups of their own, smoking and drinking, standing around the bonfire to keep warm. You stayed on JJ’s lap for the duration, both of you in a bubble that no one else existed inside of. Whispering to each other, leaned in close, JJ’s arm around your waist and one of yours around his neck. When you’d finished his beer and the cup had inevitably fallen to the ground, you and had taken JJ’s free hand in yours, fingers tangling together as you talked.

It wasn’t until you pulled yourself a little closer to him, bare arm curling under the hood of his jacket, that JJ finally seemed to be aware of anything besides you. The temperature had gone down and the bonfire was slowly dying.

“Stand up,” he urged, shifting his knee just enough to jostle you.

Your grip tightened, “uh why?”

“Just stand up.”

“I’m not moving,” you replied, “your lap is comfortable.”

JJ pulled his hand away from yours, laying his warm hand over your bare thigh, “yeah and you’re turning into a ice pop, stand up.”

“How is standing up going to help me?” You asked, as you reluctantly untangled your body from his, stepping away. You crossed your arms, hunching your shoulders as if you could keep yourself warm that way. JJ, meanwhile, pulled his hoodie over his head, passing it to you.

“Here, take my jacket.” He offered, watching as you took the beloved hoodie from him and pulled it over your head.

You felt like your entire self was being engulfed in JJ. The hoodie smelled like the fire and the weed he always smoked and a little like whatever kind of cologne he had borrowed from Pope. A little minty maybe, you weren’t sure. But it was warm and soft and something comfortable settled in your stomach wishing that every night of every summer could be this way.

“Hey,” you chided gently, noticing his eyes on you, “I saw that, you just checked me out.”

“Yeah, so what if I did?” JJ joked, leaning back in his chair and trying to act nonchalant about it.

You smiled, falling back into his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck, leaning in close to him. “I leave tomorrow after breakfast,” you reminded him, “so...are you gonna do something about it or just check me out all night?”

[shadow--writer]

Bittersweetness

Julian x mc (no pronouns used!) -- set in universe -- after upright endish

Word count: 4.5k

TW: none!

Tags: hurt comfort, fluff, angst, loneliness, Julian works too much, a little spicy at the end but nothing nsfw

~~~~

Some days it was hard for me to fall asleep. Some days it was even harder to wake up. Julian was always out or working, leaving me with the small ache in my chest as I thought about him. 

He was working when I fell asleep at night and was gone when I woke in the morning. 

Some days I’d wait up for him, reading and practicing spells. He’d come through the door, smelling sweet like mint and cinnamon and bitter like medicine. His hair would be a ruffled mess, eyes tired and sagging. Purple bags made permanent residence under his eyes and his lashes would brush his cheeks lazily as he blinked. 

Tonight I pretended to be asleep when he came in. Just to see what he’d do.

His voice was thick with exhaustion as he watched me pretending to sleep. “Ah asleep again,” he whispered, peeling off his gloves and boots. Off came the shirt and pants and then his sleepwear.

He never wore anything much during the summer. Just some low hanging pants a friend made for him. Venezuela was always sticky and too hot during the summer months making wearing anything else a chore. 

The bed sighed under his weight as he sat down, running a hand through his hair. There was a small chuckle from him, it rumbled from his chest and sent a spike of warmth threading through my stomach.

“Hey there sweetheart,” he said, scooting closer to me. He brushed my hair out of my face. I struggled to keep the peaceful look on. He planted a gentle kiss against my forehead, combing my hair away from my face and across my pillow. “I love you, you know. Even if I can’t be around as much...work is picking up now that the clinic is being talked about. More and more housecalls and people getting sick.”

There was a sigh as he settled into bed, arms wrapping around me. His legs tangled into mine, his nose buried into the back of my neck. His breath was warm against my skin. I let out a small sigh myself, sinking into his touch.

“I promise I’ll take a day off soon. I just need some time...to get back into things,” he murmured, lips ghosting my neck. “Thank you darling. Thank you.” A whisper. A breath. 

And he was out. 

I let out a small gasp of breath, feeling warm tears slide down my cheeks. 

I missed him.

I missed him so much it hurt.

~~

He was gone when I woke up. The only sign he was really there was the small cooling dent in the bed and the feeling of breath on my neck.

I got to my feet, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders. It smelled like him. Like leather, cinnamon and coffee. Something bitter lay under all of it. Something bitter coated my tongue and heart. 

As I moved to the kitchen I noticed that the apartment smelled nice. Like honey and coffee beans. 

I shuffled into the kitchen, tears springing to my eyes when I saw he made coffee and breakfast. The source of the good smell. By my plate of pancakes was a little note. His handwriting was messy as ever but over time I learned to read it. 

Hello my love,

Sorry I had to go so early. I swear I’ll be home earlier tonight. Things are getting very busy and I might need to hire new help soon. Which is both exciting and scary I’ll admit. 

I hope you like this peace offering of mine. Pasha taught me how to make these. It was a lot of trial and error. 

I love you more than the sun in the sky darling dear of mine. One of these days I’ll prove it to you. 

See you tonight. 

Yours,

Ilya

I held the note to my face, tears stinging my eyes. Weeks. It had been weeks since we really talked. Talked without one of us sleeping or pretending to sleep. 

I kissed the note softly, bringing it down to hug while I sat down. 

The coffee was sweeter today. He knew how I liked it. The pancakes were perfect if a bit toasty. I smiled a little. He wouldn’t stop until they were absolutely perfect. Even if I was happy with how they were now. 

My smile faded at the edges as I looked out the window at the rising sun. The day was already warm and sticky. It always was like this in the summer. Couldn’t catch a break. 

I knew Julian was right next door. Easy enough distance to go. 

But he was probably busy. He always was. 

I finished my breakfast, getting up to wash the dishes and think for a moment. Spotting the rest of the dirty dishes in the sink I knew I had a few good hours of washing with my thoughts.

As I scrapped off the plates I thought about what I could do. I could try making him lunch and bringing it over. 

My heart fluttered at the thought. 

Yes. That’s what I’d do. Make him something too. 

I quickly finished up the dishes in the sink. Forks and spoons went into their drawers and I set a few pans on a towel to air dry. 

Tucking the dish I held into a towel I set to work. 

I knew he liked warmer lunches and soups. Even in the summer. But there was something said about eating something that left a trail of warmth as you ate it. 

I was no Mazelinka but I knew he’d appreciate the sentiment. 

I got to work on a sweet potato mushroom soup. We had extra potatoes that I didn’t know what to do with. So what better way to use them than for lunch?

I peeled and mashed the potatoes, slicing up the mushrooms with care and a small hum. I grabbed a clean pot, setting it to simmer over the stove. In went the potatoes then spices. It made the house smell like butter, cumin and sweet potatoes. While I waited for that, I sliced up some plain bread with sharp cheddar. 

I made lemonade and tucked it into a cooling glass. I had extra, maybe I’ll freeze it and make lemon popsicles to share later today.

I quickly made my own lunch, standing back to admire my hard work. Breathing in I coughed a little. The air was stifling already and it wasn’t even noon yet. 

But soon his lunch was ready. I packed it into a paper bag, hoping he’d be there so I could give it to him myself. I quickly got dressed and tugged my shoes on. It was a quick trip next door, then I’d go to the market to get things for dinner. 

He...he probably wasn’t going to be back in time for dinner anyways. 

I bit my cheek as I pushed my way inside the clinic. Inside was the same as always. Large bookshelves filled with different books ranging from research to adventure novels. Kids lay on the ground with little toys and colouring books as they waited for their checkups. 

The secretary brightened when he saw me walk in. “Ah! Dr. Devorak is in his office around back, you made it just in time he just finished up with his last patient before housecalls!”

I blinked, and then smiled. “O-Oh thank you! I brought lunch for him.”

The secretary’s eyes sparkled with mischief as they took in my barely thrown together appearance. “I’ll keep people away for as long as I can,” he said with a wink making me blush. 

“No need we won’t be doing much! I’m just bringing him lunch.” Another smile. “Just lunch.”

“Whatever you say. He’s back in his office, last door down the hall.”

Face red and heart racing I whisper another thank you and move down the clinic quickly. There voices from some of the other doors, but I ignored them, knocking gently on the door labeled ‘Devorak’.

“Ah yes? Come in! I was just heading out to lunch!” Julian’s voice. 

My heart skipped a beat at it. We were both awake this time. 

I pushed the door open a bit more with a smile. “Hey darling,” I said. His eyes went wide, and he broke out in a grin. 

“Sweetheart! Y-You came to see me!” I closed the door with a small click, making his eyes jump to the sound. His cheeks warmed but he still smiled. “Mmm and what’s that smell?”

“Lunch. I made you something. And of course I came to see you, you silly duck. The shop is closed today for restocking. Asra was going to drop by later to help out so I’m free.”

“And you made me something to eat?” His eyes welled up. “Darling you didn’t have to do that!”

“I did. And I won’t be taking no for an answer.”

“At least eat with me!”

My eyes widened a fraction. I did bring my own lunch, I was going to see if Portia wanted to eat with me and then go around the market. 

But now that this opportunity appeared…

“Are you sure? Don’t you have work to do?”

His face was ashen pale. He really needed sunlight. “No no I’m on my lunch break now! Besides, I’d like to spend this time with you. I haven’t seen you in weeks!”

I bit my cheek from snarking at him. It wasn’t his fault, but it still hurt. 

Even so, I smiled softly. “Yeah. I’d love that.”

He grinned, patting the chair next to him. I sat down, handing him the paper bag. “Mmmm sweet potato soup?”

“I warn you I’m no Mazelinka-”

“Darling, you made this, making it even more special to me.”

I turned away with a smile, my cheeks warming. “It’s nothing special.”

“It is for me. And it smells so good, darling you are a wonder.”

I giggled. “Well you already made breakfast for me so I thought I’d return the favour.”

He kissed my cheek, digging in. 

I ate as well, slowly to savour these stolen moments with him. We talked about this and that. The leech dealer and her wife. About the different kids that would come in. How excited he was to get his day off and spend it with me.

“Where would we go?” I asked at that question.

He stopped talking, his hands dropping what they were doing. “Huh?”

I tucked my legs up into the chair under me, scooting closer to him. His eye twinkled. “Where would we go?”

“Well...I was thinking we could go for a boat ride in the fixing up flooded district.” He was leaning in closer to me. 

“And then?”

“After rocking the boat with some fun activities…” I let myself smile. I had an idea what activities he’d do in that poor little boat with me. “We’d go for a walk up in the meadows right outside town. Into the fields and by that great big willow tree by the stream.”

“And?”

“We’d have a picnic! We’d fool around in the wheat, maybe play hide and seek.” I giggled. That sounded lovely. “And once it gets dark I’ll take you down the stream and up this little rock formation I found. There we’ll stargaze together before you fall asleep and I have to carry you home.”

“And when I wake up at home all cozy in our bed…?”

He kissed my forehead, then moved to kiss my cheeks. “I’ll hold you. Cuddle and talk together. Run my hands through your hair, press your body against mine. Never let you go. We’ll fall asleep like that together and in the morning wake like that together.”

“Then I’ll get up first and make breakfast.”

“I’ll come down tired and grumpy that you left me.”

“I’ll kiss you as an apology and give you your coffee and we’ll talk some more.”

He kissed my nose, my browbones. “After breakfast we’ll call on some friends and go out together and maybe stay the night with them.”

“Going to the Rowdy Raven for a pint first.”

“Of course.”

I laughed, throwing my mouth open and my head back. He grinned at the sound, kissing my chin and the skin just below. “I love you,” he murmured. 

I let out a small hum, brushing my hands up his arms. He shivered at the small caress. I opened my mouth to respond. “I-”

“DOCTOR!” The secretary burst in. He caught my eye, and winced with apology seeing where we were positioned. I didn’t feel embarrassed. 

Just...sad.

“Ah! What’s wrong?” Julian snapped back, getting to his feet. I watched it all unfold, hurt snapping through my bones. 

“House call. Broken leg. Fell off a horse. Bone is sticking out. Mother is frantic with worry. Kid is fifteen.”

Julian winced, quickly packing his bag. “Tell her to wait a moment and I will be right there.”

He turned to look at me. I must’ve not been hiding my hurt very well because he frowned. “I’m so sorry darling I’ll make it up to you-”

I waved him off, forcing a smile. “No no! I can’t ask you to pull away from a kid in need. Go on and help him. I’ll be here.”

His eye swam with worry and concern. “I’m still sorry, my love. I’ll be home tonight. Early. I promise.” He kissed my forehead, and hurried out the door. 

I knew that was a lie. Things always got bad after dark. The night got sticky and warm. Heat strokes, bar fights, sneaking out. He wouldn’t be back until late.

I looked down at my lap, at the empty dishes on his desk. At the mess of paper and messy handwriting. My picture was at one end of the desk, another frame of us together next to it. Our friends all smiling at the ocean. 

I curled my knees to my chin, looking at the door he left from. 

“I love you,” I whispered to nothing but air.

~~

Dinner went cold two hours ago. I put away the leftovers an hour after waiting. I fell asleep soon after that, angry and bitter at the world for taking him from me like this. 

I missed him so much that it was clear on my face. 

I startled awake at three in the morning from a dream. A good dream or bad dream I didn’t know. I just knew I trembled alone in the dark, my skin clammy with the summer heat and my own sweat. 

My cheeks were stiff with the salt of unshed tears as I got to my feet. I pulled socks on over my toes, trying to keep as quiet as possible when I snuck down into the kitchen to get some water. 

Julian was fast asleep on his side of the bed, legs sprawled out like a starfish. He looked peaceful and I didn’t want to disturb that. 

It was a nightmare I decided. I had a bad dream. My stomach was tied in knots and my hands still trembled as I got water from the sink. My tongue was coated in something bitter and I just felt...empty. 

The bad dream aches would go away soon, only to be replaced with the almost homesick feeling.

I loved him. Don’t get me wrong I loved him so much. 

But I didn’t know how much longer I could keep going without hearing his voice in the morning, eating with him just...being with him. 

I stood by the counter, swaying my hips a little as I drank water. The water washed away the stale taste in my mouth but did nothing to help the bitter feeling. My hands slowly stopped shaking and my body stopped aching as I moved. 

“What’re you doing up so early?” I stopped what I was doing, turning to see Julian running a hand through his hair. His pants hung very low on his hips, his feet bare. The moonlight seemed to make him glow. His eyes softened as he looked at me. “Bad dreams?”

Wordlessly I nodded. 

He crossed the distance between us, wrapping me up in a hug. “I know I’m late to comfort you. I know I haven’t been the best in these last few days. These last few weeks,” he whispered to my hair. 

I didn’t say a word, not wanting to interrupt this moment. I just closed my eyes, breathing him in. We swayed a little, rocking from foot to foot. 

Then he pulled away from the hug, letting my hands slide down his arms into his waiting palms. He held my hands gently, slowly drawing me into a slow dance. 

Letting one hand go he spun me. The movement was slow, his other hand brushed my hip. A whisper of a question. 

When I stopped spinning I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. Almost immediately his arms went around my waist, his face buried in my neck and mine in his. 

His hands shifted my nightshirt up, his fingers cold as ice against my sticky warm skin. I let out a small gasp, making him smile. 

Squeezing my eyes shut, I leaned into the touch. His fingers danced up and down my sides, running down my ribs and resting on my hip bone. I pressed a soft kiss into his neck making him let out a small gasping breath. 

“I want you,” he whispered. 

“I want you,” I responded. 

“I’ve wanted you for so long. Here. In my arms. With me. Alone,” he said, kissing the side of my neck and my jaw. “Soft touches and kisses. Just you and me. I want...I want to touch you.”

“Touch me then,” I breathed, my voice seeming to come out in a gasp. 

He smiled, kissing my cheek. “As you wish.”

His hands moved from my sides to my face. Down my shoulders and arms. His fingers were so cold, but they felt nice against my clammy skin. His brows were pinched in worry, love and guilt shining in that eye he always kept covered. 

“It must’ve been one hell of a nightmare,” he said, brushing at my cheeks with his thumbs. 

I nuzzled into the touch making his breath hitch. “It must’ve been but I don’t remember it now.”

He brushed a kiss at the spots he touched. I wanted to huff in annoyance. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted him to spin me out of control until all I could see and touch and taste and feel was him. 

We danced around the kitchen in slow swaying movements. He was humming a slow bittersweet tune. One that made me feel as he did. 

He was guilty. He hated leaving me alone. Leaving me missing him as he missed me. 

He pulled out of my touch, bringing my hands down to his face. He planted small kisses on my palms and fingertips. Then following the trail he lay with his fingers he kissed up my left arm. My skin tingled with goosebumps at the touch of his lips. 

He pressed soft kisses on the inside of my wrists, tongue flicking over the veins and skin. He was gentle with me. Oh so heartbreakingly gentle. 

He moved up my arm. To my forearm and then my elbow. His lips were a ghost over my skin, making me arch my head back as he moved. 

Farther up my arm now, kissing my biceps and the soft skin right before my underarms. Then he planted kisses on my shoulders, nipping at the skin there. The muscle where my shoulder met my neck. When he bit down softly I let out a gasp, my hands tightening against his arms. 

He smiled, tongue flicking over the spot as he resumed kissing up my neck. When he reached my face he planted one final kiss on my jaw and left me craving his warmth once again. 

Holding his hands I swung our arms up and down a bit as I planned my move. He was here with me. I had him all to myself in these quiet moments in the morning. The moon was our only witness, the only light to see him by. 

He was strong, my Julian. Broad shoulders and strong arms. Broad chest leading into a small waist that I could wrap my arms around so easily. A face with strong lips always with a smile on them. Grey eyes. Grey eyes filled with so much adoration for me it hurt. Messy auburn hair falling around his face in soft waves. 

I haven’t gotten to look at him, truly look at him in a while. 

I repeated what he did to me moments prior. I kissed his hands. His large calloused hands that had seen so much blood. Helped so many. Let go of more. His breathing hitched as I kissed each of his fingertips. 

I kissed his wrists, biting softly at the skin there, just kneading it between my teeth for a heartbeat. His heart thudded softly. Soft feathery kisses up his forearm and against his elbow. Up his biceps, pausing at each scar to give it it’s own kiss. 

“Oh darling,” he breathed. 

I said nothing, just kissed his shoulders. “You have very cold hands,” he whispered as I ran my hands up his chest. 

I kissed the skin of shoulder meeting neck, raising my eyes to meet his. “I should say the same about you.”

He chuckled, the sound cutting out as I took the skin between my teeth. “Oh,” he said, his voice turning into a soft moan that warmed my stomach. 

I let it go too soon, and I knew it was too soon when he let out a small huff. Hiding my smile with more kisses I moved on. 

Up his neck, biting softly and kissing as I went. He squirmed a bit, hands moving down to my waist. Fingers drummed along my hips, drumming to the tune of his choked hum. 

I came to the spot I knew he liked biting best. The muscle behind his ear, meeting his jaw. I kissed it softly, before biting down. 

The noise he made sent sparks through my veins. A breathy mix between a sigh, moan and groan. 

He made it again when I flicked my tongue over the spot I bit. 

“Careful now darling,” he breathed, chest heaving against my fingers. His heart thudded so quickly against my touch. “I might just need to have you noooooooo-” he let out another moan, cutting himself off as I bit down on the spot again. 

“Hush now my love,” I whispered, moving on to kiss where his jaw met his ear. He let out another hum of pleasure. 

“Mmm I love you,” he whispered. 

I planted a kiss on his jaw, his cheeks, the tip of his nose. The bridge of his nose. I had to stand on my toes to kiss his forehead, him bending down to the touch. 

“I love you too,” I whispered as I kissed his temple. 

“Mmm kiss me,” he murmured. 

I let out a small giggle. “I am kissing you.”

His eyes snapped up to meet mine. “No I want a real kiss.”

“What’s the magic word?”

“Please.”

The pleading tone of his voice made me pause. I grinned, making him wilt a little bit, the two of us still swaying and shifting our weight from foot to foot. 

“Say it again.”

“Please.”

I held his face in my hands. “One more time?”

“Only if you say it back.”

I giggled. “Please?”

He didn’t respond, just kissed me. I didn’t care that he didn’t say it again. I didn’t care that I felt sticky and warm. 

I just cared that he was here with me. 

I moved my hands from his face, wrapping my arms around his neck again. He leaned into me, making me hold onto him for balance as he pressed me against the counter. 

His lips were needy. Begging mine. Pleading with me. They whispered things we left unsaid. They whispered apologizes and littles pleas. 

I only hoped mine held the answers. 

“Darling,” he said, lips brushing against mine with the word. 

I slowly opened my eyes, he was so close. So close. So heartbreakingly close. Illuminated by moonlight he seemed like some ethereal being. 

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

I blinked. “Julian...you don’t have anything to be sorry for. You got caught up in work that’s f-fine.” My voice caught on fine. It cracked. 

He knew it wasn’t fine. 

“You stuttered,” he said, nuzzling my face. “That means you’re lying. It’s not fine. I know it’s not fine.”

“But-”

“Let me finish. I got caught up because everyone is getting hurt all the time. There aren’t many doctors or help in my clinic. I really do need to hire.” I let out a breathy laugh. “I’ll set that up tomorrow. I swear it.”

“You haven’t come through with your promises as of late.”

He kissed my cheek. “I know and I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. For not...trying.”

“Darling you of all people have nothing to be sorry for!” He sounded offended. 

I offered him a small smile. “But I do. I didn’t try. This is a two way street. If I want something I need to give something in return. I love you Julian, and I’m sorry for not trying. Not trying to see you. Not trying to see if you can take a break.”

“Sweetheart. Love of mine. My darling. Dearest. You understand how important work is to me, and that’s why you stayed away.”

I looked away. “I do. But I still care about your wellbeing and I should have said something.”

There was a small rumble from him. A chuckle. “We both should have to be honest.”

I laughed. “Yeah, we should’ve.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

He took his face out of my cheek, kissing me softly. “For loving me. The mess that I am.”

I didn’t argue with it. He was a mess.

And so was I.

“Thank you for loving me. All my broken pieces,” I said, pulling him closer. “And for helping me find my pieces still missing.”

He kissed me again. And again. 

“Broken is not the same as unfixable my dear. And you are wonderful and perfect no matter how many pieces seem to be broken or missing.”

I sealed my mouth over his, breaking away after a few moments of just enjoying how he tasted. Smelled.

Felt.

“Well Dr. Devorak. I’m here now. With you.”

His eyes lit up with mischief and something more. “Alone…” he said.

I kissed his cheek. “So what are you going to do about it?”

He picked me up, making me let out a small squeal. I wrapped my legs around his waist, clinging to him like ivy. His arms fell back around my waist, squeezing my butt making me laugh. 

With another sweet kiss to my lips he whispered, “I guess we’ll have to see.”

The door to our bedroom clicked as it closed. 

[spuffybot]

Walk Me to the Graveyard

Summary: Buffy walks through the graveyard alone at night, contemplating the past few months following the fall of Sunnydale. She reflects on her relationship with Spike, her friendships, and her future before receiving a shocking phone call.

Characters: Buffy, Willow, Dawn, Spike (mentions of Giles, Xander, Andrew, Kennedy, Faith, Wood, Angel, and Fred)

Warnings: Some adult language

Word Count: 4515

Author’s notes: If you read this, thank you. I’ve been chipping away at it for the past few weeks and I’m just glad I was able to finish something I started. “Ghostface” is a reference to the Scream movies, which Sarah Michelle Gellar had a cameo in. The high tea spot with the egg shaped bathrooms is Sketch, a place I didn’t get to visit this year due to the pandemic. I hope you all have a safe holiday season and new year. Hopefully I’ll finish the second part of this story in 2021.

Walk Me to the Graveyard (part 1)

Buffy’s joints creaked as she stood up from her crouched position. She’d been staking out this grave (no pun intended) for hours and dawn was slowly approaching. In the last few minutes the air had started to change, and she could hear the telltale rustling of birds in the trees. If this vampire was going to rise, it wouldn’t be tonight.

Stretching her arms up over her head, she rolled out her stiff shoulders, feeling strangely relieved by the lack of action.

Buffy had been coming to this cemetery every couple of nights for weeks, sniffing out even the barest hint of vampire activity. Technically she could have assigned graveyard duty to any of the Potentials, but she craved the silence and the normalcy of the activity.

She chuckled to herself. How far she’d come that she could relish a few hours of graveyard haunting and call it normal. If only her sixteen-year-old self could see her now.

The truth was she was tired. After the fall of Sunnydale, she’d been fueled by an insatiable need to just keep moving. Giles had suggested they hole up in LA and take refuge with Angel Investigations, but Buffy refused. She wanted to get started on rebuilding as soon as possible. They couldn’t afford to waste time in LA, on Angel’s turf, killing time as his sidekicks while thousands of girls woke up with powers they couldn’t explain. So instead the Scoobies had moved to London, taking on the role of de-facto Watchers Council. They’d rounded up the few surviving members of the former Council and had started reaching out to as many activated Potentials as possible.

They recruited the ones they could and provided support (emotional and financial) to the ones they couldn’t. It was rewarding and it kept her mind off things.

Things like telling a man she loved him only to have him choose death over a future with her.

Buffy kicked a crumbling headstone, cursing when she stubbed her toe.

She knew that wasn’t fair. Spike died saving the world. It was a sacrifice she’d made more than once, and she knew how much she resented the people she left behind for not understanding the weight of that choice. She didn’t want to sully the memory of his heroics with her bitterness. She just couldn’t help it. Besides, focusing on missing Spike was easier than accepting she didn’t know how to function now that she wasn’t the “one girl in all the world.” The irony of having an identity crisis over getting the one thing she’d always thought she wanted was not lost on her. She should be grateful that she wasn’t the only Slayer. Grateful that her future was finally hers to shape. Instead she just felt lost.

It didn’t help that everyone around her was adjusting to this new life and mission like they were born to it. Dawn was training to be a Watcher, and frankly, they needed as many as they could get. The Slayer to Watcher ratio had been drastically tipped and it was only a matter of time before things got out of control.

Faith and Wood had stayed behind in America, taking up shop at the Hellmouth in Cleveland. It was weird to think of Faith as the reigning defender of the Hellmouth, but it felt right. With Wood by her side she would stay grounded and on track. He understood the mission better than most.

Giles was in his glory. He’d vetted the surviving Watchers, firing some gleefully and taking others under his wing. Between them they’d established a kind of Watchers Hogwarts, training Watchers by day and guiding Potential Slayers on field missions by night. He was happy, which was something she’d never really seen him be before. Their relationship had taken a hit in the last few years and while she wasn’t ready to forgive him for everything, she didn’t begrudge him his success. Her Watcher had floundered ever since he was fired, unable to find purpose while she and her friends had grown up around him. Seeing as she suddenly found herself in a similar position it was hard not to understand how he’d gone off track. Besides, she’d lost enough people to know she wasn’t going to lose anymore. She’d fix things with Giles, eventually. For now, she’d just settle for on the same continent and on polite speaking terms. 

Xander and Andrew led the Potential Identification and Retrieval Taskforce. They came up with the name. Obviously. They spent their days traveling the world, chasing down leads and giving their best “join team save the world” sales pitch to scared and angry girls.

Buffy smiled thinking about them. The last time they’d video chatted, Xander had looked better than she’d seen him in years. He’d lost the chip on his shoulder that he’d been carrying since they graduated high school. For the first time in his life he was the best person for the job, and he knew it. Trustworthiness and warmth radiated from him and his knowledge of tactics and the cost of the fight lent him an authenticity the girls were drawn to. He never bullshitted or misled them, but he did inspire them. Like he’d inspired all of the Scoobies over the years to keep on fighting.

The sun was starting to peak over the horizon, and a misty fog enveloped the graveyard. She knew she was dawdling but she couldn’t bring herself to rush home. The alarms would be ringing any second now, Potentials and Watchers scrambling to the mess hall for breakfast before a day of study and training.

Technically she didn’t have any classes to teach until the afternoon, but Giles liked the staff to be present in the morning. He said it communicated solidarity and responsibility. Personally, she thought Dawn had just made him watch the Harry Potter movies one too many times.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, but she let it go to voicemail. It was either Willow calling to say she had another hit on the Potential alert locator spell or Giles calling to ask where she was.

Either way it could wait.

She just wanted to be in the quiet for a little bit longer.

That’s what she missed the most about Spike. Having someone she could be in the quiet with. He had always seemed to know what she needed, anticipating her every mood and desire.

She’d never met anyone she could just be alone with before him. He never expected anything of her other than to just be. In this chaotic mess of a life she now led she craved his company and his silence. Since she couldn’t have that she came to the cemetery. The dead kept her company in a way the living never could. The occasional scuffle with a vampire didn’t hurt either. The familiar comfort of a stake in her pocket, grave dust on her shoes, her breath quickening for the thrill of the kill, reminding her that even though everything had changed, some things never would.

Her phone buzzed again.

She frowned, wondering why she couldn’t even get a few hours of peace before the sun was fully risen.

Flipping it open she saw two missed calls from a number she didn’t recognize. No voicemail.

It was probably someone trying to sell her something.

Technically her phone was spelled against telemarketers, but magic was fickle. If someone really needed to reach her, they would call the office and leave a message with her secretary.

God. How had she ended up here?

When they’d first arrived in London she’d panicked. Back in California it had seemed so clear. Get to London, find the Watchers, find the Potentials, save the world. Simple.

Except once they arrived there had been bureaucracy and red tape to get through. The surviving Watchers had needed convincing and playing nice with morons wasn’t Buffy’s strong suit. After one particularly eventful meeting that ended with some snide British dude’s head slamming into a wall Giles and Willow had pushed her to take a back seat on the negotiations. Much to everyone’s shock, she listened.

As soon as she stopped leading she felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders. Without meetings and planning sessions to fill her days she’d found herself wandering the streets of London with Dawn, playing tourist.

They were having high tea at this ridiculous spot with baby pink furniture and weird egg-shaped toilets when it hit her. She could walk away. The Hellmouth was gone, and there were more than enough Slayers to pick up the slack. Her friends would be disappointed but eventually they would understand. As she sat there watching Dawn sample pastries, no fear of imminent death getting in the way of her fun, Buffy couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like. This could be their every day.

They could finish out the summer backpacking through Europe then head home to America to finish school and settle down. She was pretty sure she’d heard somewhere that there were hardly any vampires in New Jersey.

She was so wrapped up in the fantasy that she almost missed what Dawn said as they were walking home to their flat.

“Sorry, what with the what now?”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “I said, it’s crazy how there’s this whole world out here and no one was helping keep it safe before.”

“Ummm excuse me, Slayer here, has saved the world, a lot. Even got a nice shiny headstone for my troubles.”

“Obviously but...you were always in Sunnydale. And sure, most of the big bad world endy guys ended up there too but...what about all the other regular level baddies hurting everyday people? I mean, look at them all.”

Dawn stopped and looked around, forcing Buffy to take it all in. The couples strolling along, groups of friends, kids in strollers. The street was flooded with people going about their day. As soon as that sun went down, they’d be joined by all the things that went bump in the night.

“I just think it’s kind of amazing what we’re about to do. For the first time we’ll be able to protect people all over the world. These people will have a chance like they’ve never had before. Like everyone in Sunnydale got because you were around. We can give that to them. I’m just...glad.”

Buffy’s heart warmed even as dreams of running away slipped from her grasp. Dawn was right. This was her calling. She’d find a way to live with it. Normalcy would never be available to her and the sooner she embraced that, the sooner she could start working towards happiness.

At least that’s what Willow was always saying.

Willow who saw a therapist three times a week and a substance abuse counselor twice a week.

After the battle she and Kennedy had parted ways. Their relationship had run its course and Kennedy wasn’t interested in staying on Team Scooby. Instead she took her slaying act on the road, traveling town to town looking for monsters to hunt and people to save. Occasionally she’d run into a Potential and send a heads up their way. She seemed happy. Everyone seemed happy. Buffy just couldn’t seem to find her groove.

Ironically, Willow was the only one to notice how out of sorts Buffy was. Maybe it was all the therapy or maybe it was just that she was more herself than she’d been in a long time, but Willow had become Buffy’s sole confidant these past few months. If she thought about it too much she knew she’d cry. It hadn’t occurred to her how much she’d missed her best friend until she got her back.

At first when Willow tried to reach out, Buffy had been cold and distant. Willow understood, even writing Buffy a letter to explain that she respected her need for distance after the way she had torched their friendship and Buffy’s trust. The letter had melted something in Buffy’s heart. It was the first time Willow had really acknowledged the fact that their sisterhood had been a casualty of Willow’s addiction.

The first time they sat down for coffee together felt like coming home. Willow seemed lighter, more like the girl Buffy had met her sophomore year of high school than the all-powerful Wicca she had come to know lately. She seemed shy, hesitant to take too much from Buffy, a reticence that allowed her to give more than she had intended to when she agreed to meet.

By their third coffee date it was clear that they were going to push through this. When a third turned into a fourth and fifth they decided to just make it a standing girl’s night. Every Tuesday for the rest of their lives.

Last Tuesday they’d finally broached the subject of Spike. Buffy had been dreading this, afraid to pick at the scab only to be met with judgment and condemnation. She wasn’t sure their renewed friendship could handle it. As much as she loved having Will back, Spike was a sensitive spot and she was afraid of how she’d react if Willow said something she didn’t like.

“Buffy, I tried to end the world. What’s a little bumpin of the uglies between former enemies compared to that? I am judgement free Willow of the no judgies zone.”

Willows face scrunched up like it did sometimes when she was trying to find the right words, her nose crinkling and her eyes rolling skyward.

“I just want you to be ok. And if that means loads of tasty mochas and squishy details about Spike sex, I am all ears. I’ve even got marshmallows.”

Buffy saw the sincerity on her friends face and felt something crack deep inside her. She’d been prepared for judgment at worst and stoic acceptance at best. Being met with such openness and warmth took her by surprise and she found she couldn’t hold back anymore. Her eyes welled up and before she could reign it in and full body sobs shook her.

As she cried, Willow rubbed her back and let her get it all out, careful to avoid pushing her to talk. It was exactly what she’d needed to be able to open up.

And open up she did. It was like the levies broke and all the confusion and hurt came pouring out. She told Willow about what happened in the Hellmouth. About her last days with Spike, how he supported her and strengthened her when no one else could, or would. This last part she said without any venom, all her anger and resentment at Willow long gone.

She even spoke about their last night together. How they’d made love in the basement, on that shitty cot. The first and only time they’d ever been truly intimate, Buffy’s walls fully down, her heart totally exposed.

“I know having sex with someone isn’t like, a big deal or anything. Especially when you’ve had sex as many times as we did.”

Buffy cringed as the words left her mouth. The familiar guilt over her physical affair with Spike flaring up.

“No!” Willow exclaimed.

“Buffy no. It is a big deal. It’s like, the biggest of deals. You and sex haven’t exactly had the most copacetic relationship, no offense.”

She smiled apologetically, eliciting a soft laugh from Buffy despite the anxiety that was clenching her gut.

“If you let yourself feel something good with Spike, even just that one time, it’s important. Special. You shouldn’t downplay that. He loved you and you let him show it to you. It’s romantic.”

At that Buffy really laughed.

“God Will. Spike. Romantic.”

Willow laughed too.

“You know...it’s not that weird. Remember when he kidnapped me and Xander? He wanted me to do a love spell for Drusilla. I think he’s always had a romantic streak. In a weird, murdery, vampire kinda way”

Buffy shook her head in amusement.

“Did I ever tell you Spike was a poet when he was human?”

Willows eye widened, and her hands flew to cover her cackling laugh.

“A poet? Oh my gosh. That’s...that’s too good.”

Buffy took a sip of her mocha, relishing the warm caffeinated goodness before adding, “he would kill me for telling you this but, the best part is the whole “William the Bloody” thing? That’s because he had a reputation for being such a terrible poet.”

At that Willow dissolved into full on giggles, hands clutching her stomach

“Ugggggh ok ok, I’m done laughing. Promise. Also why is that so cute? That’s so cute. Little Spike the poet.”

Buffy sighed. “The thing is Spike has this immense capacity for love. Even as a violent serial killer he was still driven by love. It scared me. That he was so willing to throw himself headfirst into love without a shadow of doubt. I’ve never...I’ve never been like that.”

She looked up at Willow, trying to read her reaction. The witch just nodded encouragingly for her to go on.

“I just...I told Giles once that I didn’t know if I could love. I was worried I was broken, like all the slaying made me cold and loveless or something.”

“Buffy, no,” Willow cut in, but Buffy held up a hand to stop her.

“I know it’s not true. I died to save Dawn, to save all of you, weeks after I said that.” Buffy’s eyes filled up again but this time she swallowed it down and wiped them clean.

“He really loved me Will. And I don’t know that I was in love with him but that last night we spent together...I kind of thought that I could be, someday. You know? I wanted him to know that. To know that there was a chance for us. I figured we’d have all the time in the world after...”

Buffy trailed off, suddenly tired. She didn’t need to explain the rest. How Spike had died, believing she’d never love him. How all the time she thought she’d have to figure out if she could evaporated in a burst of fire and ash.

—————————

She’d reached the cemetery gates just as the sun broke through the horizon. Her car was covered in dew, glistening in the hazy morning light.

She still couldn’t believe she had learned how to drive. And on the wrong side of the road! Her mom would die of shock if she were still around.

The thought of Joyce made her wistful. If only her mom could see her now. In her heart Buffy new her mom would be proud of the choices she’d made. She’d encourage her to let go of the past and focus on the future. She’d be overjoyed to know that Buffy had a future now. Sure, it still involved a massive amount of slayage but for the first time in a long time, the fate of the world didn’t rest solely on her shoulders. Her mom would tell her to embrace that and to live this new life to the fullest.

I’m trying mom.

Her phone buzzed again, and this time Buffy yanked it out in annoyance and flipped it open.

“What do you want?”

The silence on the other end only ticked her off more. If it was so important for someone to call her three times before she’d even had a cup of tea they could freaking respond when she finally picked up.

“Hello? I’m hanging up in three seconds if you don’t get all un-ghostface on me and just tell me what you want.”

She heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. Her annoyance bled to curiosity and she willed herself to be patient.

Infusing her voice with a level of calm she didn’t feel, she asked “Do you need help or something? I don’t know how you got this line if you’re not part of Scooby Central but…you got me.”

The silence eked on for seconds that felt like minutes before the caller sighed. Buffy’s pulse shot up, anticipation making her antsy. She shuffled from foot to foot, fighting her instinct to hang up. If this was a Potential calling for help she needed to wait it out.

Finally, a voice broke through the silence.

“Slayer?”

Buffy dropped the phone on the ground, her fingers losing the ability to function along with her brain, which had gone fuzzy and staticky at the sound of the all too familiar voice on the other end of the line.

She stared down at her phone, the call still connected, wondering if she had fallen asleep somehow.

A muffled “bloody hell” came out of the fallen phone, causing Buffy to gasp and jump back. She crouched down low, getting as close to the phone as she could without actually picking it back up.

“Shit. SHIT. Spike?”

The muttering and cursing stopped.

“Slayer…yea. It’s a long story. But yea.”

Buffy felt her limbs turn to jelly and she sat down on the cold gravel, her head falling into her hands. A sob bubbled up from her chest, turning into a laugh that she couldn’t control. She giggled for a solid minute before gingerly picking her phone up and pressing it to her ear.

“How? You better explain yourself right now.” Her voice was edged with steel, anxiety and adrenaline giving way to nervous anger. If this was someone’s idea of a sick joke she was going to get murdery.

She could almost hear Spike roll his eyes.

“Good god woman, can’t I come back to life without brassing you off?”

She bit her lip to stop a smile, not willing to let hope overrule a protective layer of skepticism.

Rocking back on her heels Buffy gulped down the crisp morning air, willing her body to calm down so she could take stock of the situation. Her dead ex sort of boyfriend was calling her…she looked at the phone number quickly…from LA. Ok. She could handle this. She was the Slayer, queen of things that go bump in the night and let’s face it, this wasn’t her first ex to come back from the great beyond. If Angel could do it…Angel.

“Spike, why are you calling me from LA?”

He sighed again and she could picture him rubbing the back of his neck, a grimace on his face as he debated the best way to tell her what was going on.

Despite the rush of anger, her heart warmed at the thought.

“Eh look, I said it was complicated. I just thought it was right. Telling you I was alive. Thought you should know is all.”

Whatever ice had melted in her heart immediately froze back up. No way was Spike going to call her from beyond the grave and then immediately get shady and secretive.

“So, is that your weird dodgy British way of saying you’re not going to tell me why you’re calling me from LA? Where Angel lives? Are you with Angel?”

She heard Spike mutter something to himself that sounded an awful lot like “bloody bint”. She rolled her eyes and stood up, pacing the lot in an attempt to keep her temper in check.

“Yea. Alright yea.”

His voice had changed, his accent becoming sharper, and she knew he was starting to get worked up.

“I’m in LA and I’m with Angel. If you want to talk to him you can damn well call him yourself. I don’t know what I was thinking. Bloke comes back as a sodding ghost, gets himself corporealized by a nice scientist bird and calls his girl up and she wants to know about Angel. Figures.”

Buffy rolled her eyes, not even bothering to interrupt his tirade. She knew he’d run out of steam eventually.

“Are you finished?”

Spike sighed again and Buffy felt the fight go out of her. She sat down on the hood of her car, overwhelmed by the emotions swirling within.

“Yea Slayer. I’m finished.”

Buffy’s shoulders slumped and she laid back, gazing up at the sky. It was going to be a cloudy day.

“How?”

“That’s the million-dollar question love. Seems no one can answer it.”

“Wait.” Buffy sat up; brow furrowed in concentration as she started to put together the various odd things Spike had said so far.

“You were a ghost?”

She tried to picture that. Spike all floaty and haunty. The image made her chuckle, which she quickly tried to suppress.

“Yea, yea, yea, laugh it up. I don’t know if I was a ghost. I was a something. Couldn’t touch, couldn’t feel. Just trapped at bloody Wolfram & Hart with your beloved Prince of Brooding.”

“Wolf ram and what now?”

“It doesn’t matter. Done what I set to do. You know. Guess I’ll let you get back to it then.”

Buffy felt white hot anger burning in her chest. Did he really think he was going to call her up, say hey, and then leave? Maybe forever? Who did he think he was?

“Fine,” she spat out.

“Fine,” came Spike’s huffy reply.

They’d reached a stalemate and Buffy did the only thing she could think of doing.

She hung up.

She stuffed the phone in her pocket, unlocking the car door and sliding into the front seat. She stared out the frosted windshield for a moment before screaming at the top of her lungs. When that didn’t calm the storm she felt brewing inside she slammed her hands repeatedly into the steering wheel. The metal and leather began to crunch and warp under the weight of her blows but she didn’t care. She felt like someone had set her insides on fire. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t cry, couldn’t do anything but scream and rage into the void.

Eventually she ran out of steam. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed but her throat was raw. Rubbing her face she switched into Slayer mode. Something was up and she was going to get to the bottom of it. Cagey Spike and his caginess be damned.

She forwarded the number he’d called her from to Willow and Andrew. Between the two of them they’d be able to trace it and dig up some dirt on where Spike was. As for how he got there, she was going to need boots on the ground. Luckily Kennedy had last checked in from Arizona a couple of days ago. She couldn’t be far from there and she owed Buffy more than one favor. She might not be Spike’s biggest fan, but she would do some recon and get Buffy the answers she needed. Once she knew what was going on, she could show up in LA and punch Spike and Angel in the face herself.

Buffy felt calmer. She had a plan. It wasn’t perfect but it was a start.

She’d let Spike get away once before. This time would be different. She didn’t know why or how but it seemed the Powers That Be had given her a second chance.

She wouldn’t waste it.

—end—

[goodlucktkachuk]

Omg can I request a carter hart fic blurb thing based off remember that night by Sarah kays? it’s been stuck in my head all day and I’m just imaging the fluff turned to angst scenarios w/ my fav goalie🥺

I loved this idea so much so here you go :) It’s a bit longer then I expected but oh well. 

Heres the song & the one I mentioned in the blurb

It was hard every time Carter went back to Philly. Leaving you in Edmonton was brutal. It felt like your heart was getting broken all over again. Every. Single. Year. However, the relationship was a well oiled machine. It was always a whirlwind summer romance that end at the start of September when training camp began. Time would pass and once you had finally moved on he would slip right back into your life. It was exhausting but it was life. He usually didn’t reach out much during the season. He would wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year and say he hopes you were doing well in school. 

It was mid February when he reached out, out of nowhere. You were five months into your healing process and you were happy. It didn’t hurt anymore and you were actually talking to other people. 

Carter <3: Hey y/n, I was just looking at some photos from the summer and found this. Still my favourite. Miss you sweetheart.

*1 image attached*

There was one night in particular right before he left this year that felt different. He pulled up to your house with a shit eating grin and the music up so loud you couldn’t hear yourself think. It was the last weekend all of your friends were in town so tonight the two you were off to a party to celebrate another summer come and gone. It was bitter sweet in so many ways He turned down the music as you walked out in that pretty sundress covered in daisies that you wore the first day the two of you had met. It was his favourite. 

“Well don’t you look gorgeous!” He smirked as he pulled out his phone and snapped a bunch of photos despite your protesting.

“Gotta look as good as you.” You smoothly cooed back. He shot you a smirk and brought your knuckles to his lips, planting small kisses across all your fingers. The drive to the party was filled with off-key singing and Carter trying desperately to make you laugh, which he was always successful at.

The party itself was a blast. You got too drunk on vodka lemonade and he kept his hands on your hips or your lower back the whole night. You were radiant in the glow of the fire and Carter still could never wrap his head around why you chose to be with him. It was around 2am when the storm rolled in from the north and you both decided it was time to head back to the city. He helped you back into the pickup and quickly ran to his side before he got too wet from the rain. By the time he was settled he turned to you and his chest tightened. There you were, curly hair now in a messy pony-tail and your dress peaking out under one of his hoodies that he kept in his truck for you when you got cold. He learned fast you never dressed for the weather so he was always prepared. It wasn’t long till you realized he was taking you somewhere that wasn’t home.

“Where are we going bubs?” Your voice was heavy with sleep and slurred from the alcohol.

“You’ll see princess” He lightly squeezed your hand 

He drove for a bit longer before he pulled off into a little parking lot on a hill that looked over the city. He motioned for you to move to the bench seat and you were quickly nuzzled into his arm as the two of you watched the storm over the city. The quiet hum of You&I by Milk. played through his speaker. 

“Hey Carter...” you said softly, barely loud enough for him to hear.

“Yes baby?” His voice so low you felt the vibration move through your body.

“I love you.” The words just slipped out and you cover your mouth as soon as you register what you said. You and Carter had been off and on  since he got drafted and in all those years, neither of you had said the big three words even though you loved him the moment you met him. He placed two fingers under your chin and turned you to look at him.

“I love you.” With that he planted a long kiss on you lips before letting you fall back into his chest. Even though the other would never know it. They had the same smiles on their faces and the same warmth in their hearts that they felt the same way about each other.

Staring back at you was one of the photos he took that night. Your hair was in loose curls and you were throwing up two peace signs with a dorky face. You thought you looked stupid but he thought you looked beautiful. 

Y/n: That was such a fun night!! Miss you too C.”

The truth was, that was probably the best night of your life and you were crushed every time you thought about it. Everything you had built since he left had been destroyed in mer seconds and it felt like you couldn’t breath. As the tears slowly stopped falling from his eyes they quickly began to fall from yours. All you wanted was to be back in that moment. When he was still here. But that’s not how life worked. You just had to swallow the lump in your throat and try to smile while you remember that night. 

[beck-a-leck]

Kissing prompt! Shamelessly asking for #14 Cliff x Claire! 😌

I live to answer shameless prompts!

Send me a Smooch Prompt and a couple characters for all your self-indulgent needs!

#14 - A kiss so desperate that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they're finished.

Featuring Cliff and Claire, and just the teeniest bit of angst and sadness to really make the desperation stick.

Cliff packed slowly. He didn't want to leave the inn, didn't want to leave Mineral Town, didn't want to leave his friends, and perhaps most desperately, he didn't want to leave Claire. But there was nothing to be done for it. He had no money. There was no work to be found in town. Doug had already given him as much of a break on rent as he could afford, and Cliff had relied on Claire to feed him for most of a season now. He hated how much he had to rely on the kindness of others, how much he took that he could never pay back. He had become a burden, and he couldn't stand that.

As much as he did not want to leave Mineral Town, a place that had begun to feel more like home in the last year than any place had for such a long time, Cliff had to go. He had to find a job, and there were absolutely none to be found. He'd thought something might have come up last autumn at the winery, Duke had hired him and another guy to be the manual laborers during the harvest, but at the end of it all, Michael had been offered the chance to stay on full time. Michael had gotten along with Duke like a house on fire, they laughed and joked like they were old friends, even though Michael had only rolled into town one one of the last boats of the summer.

Winter was coming to its close, Cliff had spent a year here, and the last six months truly visualizing Mineral Town as home, as the place he would grow old in with the woman he loved. Maybe even one day, have a family again.

But those dreams had dwindled as rapidly as his funds.

This wouldn't be goodbye forever, Cliff and Claire had had a very long discussion about this, about his leaving, and their future together. If he was lucky, he'd find work somewhere else, he could start earning money, and saving money, building skills that he could some day bring back to Mineral Town and then maybe, in a year or two, he could come back.

But... it was a heavy Maybe. Maybe Cliff would never be able to go back to Mineral Town. Maybe his travels for a job took him too far away. Maybe Claire would fall in love with someone else in his absence, someone who could always be here for her, who wouldn't leave.

Cliff shoved the last few items into his bag and zipped it closed. He slung the pack over his shoulder and turned towards the door. His eyes fell on the room's other occupant.

"I'm gonna miss you, man," Gray said, trying and failing to keep the emotion from his voice. "You sure you don't want anyone to go with you down to the pier?"

"No," Cliff said quietly, "That's okay, I'd rather go alone. I've said my goodbyes."

"Yeah, well, you've got one more." Gray offered his hand. Cliff took it, and they shook for a moment, before the two of them, with a wet chuckle, pulled into a hug. "Won't be the same here without you." Gray thumped him on the back before letting go.

Without another word, Cliff hitched his pack up over his shoulders, and walked out of the room he'd called home for the last year. Ann was sweeping the stairs, and she gave him a tight hug as he passed. Down at the bar, Doug shook his hand firmly and sent him off with a "Good luck, son."

It was snowing, and a bitter cold wind was tearing at Mineral Town. Nobody else was out in the streets, or in the square. With every step Cliff took towards the beach, his heart sunk. Claire wouldn't be here. he had specifically asked her to not see him off like this. They'd said their goodbyes last night, and he, quite frankly, wasn't certain he could get on the ferry if she was there with him.

Snow and sand crunched beneath his feet as he crossed the beach to the pier. He perched gingerly on the icy bench and watched the distant shape of the ferry grow closer on the roiling gray sea.

He shivered and pulled his coat tight around him - Claire's Starry night present to him - it was warm and sturdy. He'd get many good years of use out of it. Wearing it was like walking around in her embrace.

The ferry was almost there when another body settled on the bench next to Cliff.

"Hey," Michael said with a slight smile, he was always smiling. No wonder Duke had asked him to stay on at the winery with a sunny attitude like that. "Cold enough, huh?"

"Yeah..." Cliff didn't feel much like talking. And as much as he didn't want to resent Michael, because the man hadn't done anything to him personally, there was a mean corner of him mind that kind of hated the guy for taking his chance to stay in Mineral Town forever.

Michael was carrying a duffel bag, stuffed full, it looked. Cliff nodded towards it, "You taking a trip to the city?"

Michael shrugged. "For starters, yeah. Spend New Year's partying it up, from there, who knows where I'll go. Maybe spend the rest of the winter somewhere warm."

That didn't make any sense.

"But what about your job? The Winery? I know winter is a slow season, but surely Duke and Manna need your help still. They're letting you take a vacation that long?"

"Vacation?" Michael laughed. "Nah, bud, I quit the winery, like a couple days ago. Small town living is quaint and all, and nice for a little while, but I don't want to be in a little backwater hole like this for the rest of my life, you know." He grinned and nudged Cliff. "I mean, you're leaving too for brighter futures and greener pastures, right?"

Cliff's hands curled into fists. he'd never truly disliked Michael before, but right now he really wanted to hit that flippant, smug, carefree grin right off his face. Just to be certain he wasn't having some vivid hallucination, Cliff asked again. "You quit the winery?"

"Yeah." Michael shrugged. "I was gonna wait til after New Year's but honestly I can't even bear the thought of spending the holiday in this tiny town. I doubt there would even be a party, everyone would probably be in bed by nine." He scoffed. "Probably wouldn't even get a New Year's kiss. None of the girls here are even all that cute, and they're so old fashioned. You basically have to propose before they'll even let you hold hands."

Cliff stared at Michael dumbfounded. His mind raced with possibility. Maybe he could go back to the winery and ask for a job, but Duke had already rejected him once this year, what's to say they still won't want him. But he had to try, right? Worst they could say was 'no' and he would just have to catch the ferry tomorrow. Best case - he couldn't even think of the best case scenario in case he jinxed the whole thing. Anything for a chance. that' what he had promised Claire. He would do any job, try anything if it meant coming back to her sooner.

Cliff snapped out of it as the ferry pulled close to the pier, blowing its whistle to call any stragglers to hurry and catch their ride.

Someone was shouting his name. Michael nudged him. “Hey, isn’t that your girlfriend?”

Cliff turned and saw Claire standing on the steps at the top of the beach. She cupped her hands around her mouth and called, “CLIFF! WAIT!”

“I thought you dumped her,” Michael said with a dint of disdain. “She was certainly mopey about it when I saw her earlier when I was getting my last paycheck.” He scoffed again. “Kinda pathetic, ain’t she? Just a little too desperate, huh?”

Once again, Cliff was seized with the overwhelming urge to deck Michael. But he didn’t. He got to his feet and turned away from Michael and the docking ferry.

“Hey, where’re you going? The boat’s right here. They won’t wait for you.”

“I don’t care. I’ll catch the next one if I have to.” Cliff didn’t spare Michael another thought or a second glance. He took off running towards Claire. She took off running towards him too. The met in the middle of the beach and crashed into each other, throwing their arms around the other and holding on tight.

“Don’t go!” Claire gasped, taking his face in her cold hands. “Don’t go yet. Please. I-I think I found you a job. At the winery.”

“I know. Michael’s leaving.”

A smile broke out over Claire’s lips as she realized, as they both realized, Cliff might not have to leave. There might be a chance for him to stay in town. Maybe he wouldn’t have to go.

She pulled his face towards hers, drawing him into a fierce kiss. Their lips crashed against teeth, but neither pulled away. Cliff kissed her, letting all of the hope bubble up in his chest and drive him desperately forward. Claire let got of his face and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her held her close, as close as possible. He ignored the fear that maybe Duke and Manna still wouldn’t want him, maybe the winery didn’t really need an extra set of hands. Maybe he was just prolonging the inevitable and he would still have to leave Claire.

He held Claire close and kissed her as snow collected in their hair, and their fingers went numb in the cold, until finally, panting slightly for breath they broke the kiss. Cliff rested his forehead against Claire’s, he looked down at their intertwined hands before closing his eyes. In his heart he made a wish, he said a prayer.

I wish… Maybe… Please…

“I should probably go talk to Duke and Manna, huh?”

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

Skin on Skin

This was requested by my darling @beccabarba​ who asked for this:

<When you get a moment, lovely, let's indulge the love for Nick. I have an idea about him inviting reader for food at his favourite place, they've not dated before, just been flirty, it's been a long day, neither is expecting much. But then the restaurant is busy and they end up on a small table, hands touch, legs touch under the table and they get carried away and have to take things to the nearest hotel bedroom because even going home seems too far! Only if it sounds fun to write!>  

Warnings: For me to say this is smuty is an understatement. This is some other kind of smut that I have never written before and its slightly rough which is delicious.

Hope this hits the spot lovely x

WC: 2312

Enjoy x

It was coming to the end of summer and it was that time of year again. Mental health checks, gun refresher course, updating first aid and self-defence refresher course. Liv usually booked you all in together, but because of time, being a full on summer with case after case and the Chief up her ass about the courses not being done yet,  you were all booked in two by two. Amanda with Sonny, Liv with Fin and you with your partner Nick. The most handsome partner you had ever had. Charming, fun and always angry. But that’s what attracted him to you. Deep down he was soft and so caring when you got through his bitterness about his marriage breakdown. Since him being your partner you had worked out his different moods and how to defuse each one.

You guys had a fun relationship having each others backs, but there was so much flirting. Every now and then you had to walk out of the precinct to get some fresh air to calm yourself down,

“Amaro- how much longer are ya going to keep that up? Just ask her out already” Sonny nudged Nick on the side in the break room.

“Don’t be stupid Carisi”

You were standing on a corner of the East Village in front of an academy approved self-defence gym, in black booty shorts, a white loose tank top sitting off one shoulder with a black tank top under it, black runners, ankle white socks and your hair in a high pony tail sipping on your iced coffee with your sunglasses on, early on the Saturday morning. You looked down at your smart watch when a taxi pulled up in front of you,

“Morning Y/N” Nick gave you a big smile as he closed the taxi door walking towards you.

“Morning Nicolas” You smirked biting your straw grateful for your sunglasses that hid your eyes that were scanning Nick up and down in his white tank top showing off his muscly arms and cotton shorter shorts. But you didn’t miss the sparkle in his eyes and the way he grinned when you called him by his full first name.

“You know I hate being called that right” Nick frowned at you smiling.

You lifted your sunglasses off your eyes pushing them up on the top of your head,

“You only hate it when it’s not me saying it” you winked “Come on Nicolas or we will be late” You smiled at Nick and headed inside.

Nick deliberately held back so he could look at your ass while you walked. You turned him on usually by whatever you wore, especially when you wore jeans on a night out. But when he pulled up in taxi and saw what you were wearing today he cleared his throat reaching for his water bottle to have a drink to calm down.

The day had gone smoothly. Breaking for a quick morning tea and lunch. You and Nick had been separated most of the day on different mats, but catching each other staring more than once. At one point, Nick was flipped on his back by his trainer because he was too busy watching you take off your crop top leaving you in your tank top and shorts. You giggled and winked at him when he looked over at you blushing.

By the later part of the afternoon you and Nick had both passed everything you needed to pass, but the head trainer wanted to keep you a bit longer for you to work on your own self defence with Nick as Nick was a different build to the male trainer. He was a fair bit taller and more solid. Your trainer had another class and left to teach that.

“We are going to start with the classic position, Detective Amaro can you come up behind Detective Y/L/N, one arm around the top of her chest near her neck, your hand on her shoulder your other around her waist”

Just then the phone rang for the gym,

“Excuse me for a moment” and the trainer walked away to answer it.

You could feel Nick’s breath on your bear shoulder and it not feeling unnatural to be standing like this with him, his naked arms around you, your skin touching. His large hands on your exposed skin making your knees go weak, Nick pressing his body into your back feeling amazing. You loved the feeling of his fingers on your middle between your tank top and shorts.

“What are you doing after here?” Nick said softly into your ear “Let’s have dinner, my favourite Cuban place is just a block down”

“Are you asking me on a date Detective?” You turned your head slightly so his lips brushed your cheek.

Nick chuckled, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spin “And if I’am?”

Without warning you bent over flipping Nick over you so he landed flat on his back looking up at you shocked not quite sure what had just happened. You looked down at him with a smile,

“I would love to Nicolas” you laughed.

“Well done Detective” you heard the trainer’s voice who had walked over and pulled Nick up off the floor by his hand “I’ am impressed Detective Y/N. You guys are free to go, I’ll send your paper work to Lieutenant Benson.”

You guys made the quick walk to the next block over to the restaurant Nick was talking about. The short walk was filled with talking and laughing, you and Nick pretty much walking on top of each other, you where that close.

“Here is it” Nick walked to the door handle pulling it and holding it open for you.

“Nice to see chivalry isn’t dead, your Mumma taught you well” you giggled as you walked passed Nick.

“I know how to treat a beautiful lady” Nick shot back with another big grin “You should see what she hasn’t taught me” you burst out laughing as you made your way to the hostess looking around at the very full restaurant “Hope they have a table its packed” Nick was at your heels.

“Hola buena noches, mesa para dos” (Hello good evening, table for two)

Nick lent over your shoulder, his hand resting on your hip,

“Hola sí por favor” (hello yes please)

“You’re lucky, we have one table left, por favor sígame” (please follow me)    

You and Nick followed the hostess to a small table right in the back corner. It was a small round table with two seats. You and Nick sat down on the very cosy table, really you could have sat on his lap the table was so small and the chairs that close to each other. You both sat down and your legs straight away touching. The feeling of Nick’s hairy leg on yours a delicious sensation,

“¿te puede traer una bebida?” (can get you a drink?)

“Si, Cuba Libre y agua, por favor- What are you having Nick?” you turned to see a big smile on his face,

“lo mismo por favor” (same please)  

The conversation had just flowed all night and it felt amazing. The flirtation definitely stepping up a level. Your arms and legs resting against each other’s. Your fingers and hands brushing each other’s on the small table. You were taking a sip of your new drink letting dinner settle before you both decided on dessert. Nick reached down to scratch the side of his leg that was leaning on yours with his left hand. His knuckles brushing along your skin. Nick saw you look down at his hand and bite your bottom lip. You missed the grin on his face when he moved that arm to rest on the back of the chair, his right hand moving to rest on the inside of your thigh at the hem of your shorts,

“You know Y/N” Nicks hand started to run up your clothed thigh “I like feeling your skin on mine”

You took in a deep breath, feeling grateful your back was too the rest of the restaurant. Slowly his hand went up your thigh,

“Have you ever thought about me when you’re alone?”

Nick's hand had stopped where your thigh meets you crotch his pointer finger stretched out, rubbing up and down your cloths core.

“There has been more than once my hand has been around my cock and I have wished it was yours. So your answer is yes” You whimpered thrusting your hips forward slightly into his finger, your right hand now on the highest part of his thigh “Should we get out of here?”

“Mine or yours?” you gasps when Nick ran his finger up and down clothed core again.

Nick moved his hand away from grabbing your thigh, to your hand grabbing his thigh and moving it to rest on his hardened cock. You turned to look at him with wide eyes, his lips crashing on yours for a slightly steamy public pash.

“Do you really think we will make it back to mine or yours Mami? There’s a hotel around the corner”

----

You were laying on the hotel bed with Nick between your legs rubbing his clothed cock over your clothed pussy. Both bear chested and only in your panties and his boxers, the kiss all tongues moaning into each other mouths. Nick’s hands running up your sides, yours grabbing onto his hips pulling him into you,

“I can feel how wet you are” Nick grunted into your neck that he was now kissing.

Your hand moved to slide down his boxers wrapping your hand around his long hard cock,

“All for you Nicolas” One of Nick’s hands moved to slide into your hair balling it into his fist tugging on your hair slightly moving your head to the side, his lips landing between your neck and shoulder, bucking his hips into your hand wrapped around him “See-you love it when I call you that don’t you?”

In a quick moment Nick moved your hand out of his boxers and rolled you over so you were now on top of him straddling him, his hands moving to your breasts. Nick started kneading them giving them both the same amount of attention. You were rolling your hips over Nick’s length, running your hands up and down his chest. The mixture of the friction from his clothed member and the lace of your panties on your clit, your release was building at a steady pace but it was intense.

You started to roll your hips faster over Nick, your hands gripping onto his shoulders. Nick saw your jaw go slack reaching down to squeeze your ass cheek with one hand and pinch your nipple with the other,

“Your a dirty girl- come baby” Nick bucked up his clothed cock as you rolled your hips and you came, your head falling forward breathless. You slowed your movements coming down from your high when Nick rolled you both over so he was between your legs again. Nick made quick work of pulling your panties off throwing them on the floor with the rest of your cloths, then moving to pull his off.

He reached for the bedside table reaching for the condom he had sat there from his wallet, ripping it open and rolling it on,

“Do you know how hot that was mi puta” Nick fell back down resting his elbows next to your head lining himself to your opening “What was it like riding my clothed cock?” Nick lent down brushing his lips along your jaw.

“Amazing- but I want you in me now Nicolas” you moaned grabbing onto his hips trying to pull him into you, spreading your legs more to make it easy for him.

That was all Nick needed ramming into you in one go, your grip on his hips tightening. You lifted your hips up so that Nick could slam into you hitting your sweet spot with every pound.

“Mierda Y/N- you feel so good”

“Give it to me Nicolas- harder” you almost yelled.

You started to move your hips up and down in time with Nick’s thrusts. Both your bodies’ covered in a light layer of sweat, Nicks lips meeting yours, swallowing your whimpers your orgasm about to burst through you. You let go of one of Nick’s hips reaching between you both to your clit, Nick pulling back locking eyes with you. You rolled your pearl between your thumb and pointer finger. You could hear how wet you were while Nick thrusted in and out. You couldn’t take your eyes off each other, the stare intense. Both your jaws slack, both moaning.  

“Ni-Nick” Your fingers nails on the hand still on his hip digging into Nick’s skin as your orgasm speed through you like wild fire, your whole body burning.

The look on your face and how you gripped around Nick’s hard length, your name left Nick’s lips with a grunt, his hip moments getting sloppy before he pulled out throwing himself on his back breathless.

Nick removed the condom and threw it in the trash next to the bed, his hand coming to rest on your thigh, yours coming to the top of his. You both laid there for a long moment breathing heavy looking at the roof.

“I’ve set the bar high for a second date” Nick chuckled.

“A second date?” you turned your head to look at him with a smile on your face rolling over to peck him on the lips a few times.

“Of course I want a second date with an amazing person like you. You get me Y/N- I don’t have to try and be something I’m not when I’ am with you. You make me happy. You make me feel wanted. I want to make you mine”

Tags: @the-baby-bookworm @permanentlydizzy​ @detective-giggles​ @amorestevens

[tagsecretsanta]

from @Little-old-rachel

to @misssquidtracy

Secret Santa does not own this work, full credit to the author above!

Part Two: Second First Snow

After they lose Mom, Gordon finds he can’t stand the snow, unable to marry that wonderful day with the same substance that leeched life from his mother. 

And he’s not alone. Virgil can’t even bear to be cold, takes to bundling layer upon layer in winter, long sleeves even in summer. John watches weather forecasts anxiously, cross-examining different stations’ reports and awaiting the first signs of black ice. Even little Allie learns from Scott’s fretting that snow = bad. Gordon can’t help but wonder if they are all following their father’s lead - a man who increasingly finds any excuse to reach for the whiskey bottle, but especially when the cooler weather closes in. 

It doesn’t snow again, or at least, not enough to blur road and field into one endless white landscape. Instead the tarmac becomes a slushy stream, refreezing into deadly ice runs (or incredible tobogganing slopes, if only Gordon could bring himself to join the other kids without intense anxiety of what it might bring). 

And then - all at once - they’re living on a tropical island (“really, Dad, that’s a little bit extreme even for you,” Gordon smirks at his father, receiving a Look in return), and Gordon thinks he’ll never have to worry about snow again. His experiences with it are now strictly limited to rescues - because people will insist on attempting skiing in a blizzard. As much as they all love what they do, rescues aren’t exactly the place to form happy new memories and so Gordon never quite loses his dislike of snow, even as he grows old enough, smart enough, skilled enough to know a thousand different ways to save lives from it. 

(It’s in the same way that Virg has now shed most layers, even if he still wears a plaid shirt and undershirt in tropical heat. Or how John still tracks snowstorms obsessively when he thinks nobody notices - well Gordon’s on to you, Johnny. Or how Scott insists that snow rescues are done in pairs or not at all.) 

(They cope as best they can. Because they’re International goddamn Rescue.)

(And the world needs them to be coping). 

****

Except this year, apparently. 

They’re fast approaching the end of a second year without Dad, preparing to stagger through their second Christmas without him. 

And then all of a sudden, John gives himself a concussion - he won’t tell them how and EOS mournfully says that she’s sworn to secrecy - up on Five, and has to be dragged down to recover. In the same twenty-four hour period, Scott misjudges the speed at which he could hit the ground and fractures his wrist, much to Virgil’s consternation (“I was right behind you, Scott, if you had just waited twenty seconds-”). Except then it was Virgil’s turn to eat humble pie, because he nearly passed out in the middle of flying back to the island, because! Turns out you shouldn’t keep quiet about having the flu!

And then Alan slips off a cliff in the midst of a tropical storm, and whilst he’s fine (“I’m okay, guys, really - see, not even a scratch”), he’s understandably shaken up, and the Smother Brothers descend full force to take him off rescues.

And so, as brilliant as Gordon is, he’s not quite up to the task of single-handedly running International Rescue, even with Kayo picking up the slack - they’re only human. 

All in all, tensions are running high. 

Grandma’s all: the-world-won’t-fall-apart without-you-watching-over-it-Jonny, humankind-can-get-by-without-International-Rescue-for-a-week-Scott, so-help-me-God-Virgil-get-back-into-bed, taking out his older brothers in one fell swoop as only she can. She doesn’t so much pose the idea of spending their week off somewhere that isn’t Tracy Island, rather she tells them to pack their warmest clothes and be ready to leave that afternoon “or so help me God.”

****

The Squad descend on Kansas with subdued hearts and confiscated paperwork (“you’re on holiday, Scott”). They have happy memories here, of course - almost all of their memories involving Mom took place in this rickety house and its surrounding fields. Every room contains echoes of her singing, ghostly brushes of her forehead kisses, the smell of hot cocoa.

Which is why it’s also so very painful to be here again. 

They haven’t come here since Dad’s disappearance - because he’s disappeared, he’s not gone. So why can Gordon also feel the ghosts of his Dad’s arm around his shoulders? 

That first day, Grandma recruits the non-incapacitated members of the family (Kayo, Gordon, Alan and herself) to decorate the house, whilst Scott stomps about, lamenting that he can’t join in properly. The four of them make short work of the job, and before long, the lounge is lit with the soft glow of golden fairy lights. They’ve dragged the artificial tree from the loft, and Gordon feels oddly nostalgic for the cheap plastic baubles they’ve strung around it. 

Kayo has just thrashed Gordon in a race to make paper chains quicker when John says quietly, “hey. Snow.”

Virgil staggers up from the couch, cloaked in blankets and waving off Scott’s hovering hands. He makes his way to John’s window seat at the same time as Gordon. 

Light snowflakes are indeed falling from thick white clouds, pirouetting gently downwards to settle in dusty heaps on the frost-tipped yard. The landscape turns slowly whiter around them, and the snowfall gets heavier. 

Alan ducks under Scott’s non-injured arm to peek out too, and Scott swallows hard, likely remembering the last time they stood here and watched the snow fall in this way. 

They all feel the ache of the two missing family members like a physical wound. Gordon finds himself having to blink hard to shake off the visions playing tricks on his eyes. A tiny Gordon, gloveless, clueless, but joyful, rushing towards Mom, whose arms are outstretched. Virgil’s face as he concentrates on positioning the snowman’s features. John flopping his limbs into the snow to make angels. Dad and Scott, hurling snowballs at one another battling it out to the bitter end.

Virgil wraps an arm around Gordon’s shoulders, and with a start, Gordon realises he’s crying. 

Only they aren’t tears of grief or anger or pain - though he’s definitely felt all of those things. 

These are tears of a man overwhelmed. 

But the memories are good ones, they nestle in his chest, temporarily defrosting the icy tendrils of anxiety that have taken root there. They pour warmth and love and belonging into his chest, filling the pit of sorrow in his stomach and rushing to overflow in every small, aching part of his body. Gordon tips his head against Virgil’s shoulder, takes a shaky breath, and smiles. 

John is tucked against Gordon’s other side, Kayo’s fingers laced in his own. Alan is nestled into Scott’s chest, who has a hand on Virgil’s back too. 

United. As they always are. 

Outside, the temperature drops to freezing and the roads become treacherous. But the snow also dances in mesmerisingly beautiful patterns, and the trees sway as they gather their fine trimmings.

And here, in the centre of it all, is his family. 

His wonderful, loving, giving, crazy, ridiculous family. God, he’s the luckiest man alive. 

Maybe towards the end of the week, when John’s able to stand without wavering, and Virgil’s stopped mumbling deliriously, they’ll go tobogganing near the quarries. Hell, if they time it right, Scott will probably try and join them - the jury’s out on whether or not they can sneak that past Grandma. 

But for now, Gordon’s perfectly content to stand with his family, and watch the snow fall.