#but man I wish I could just skip ahead in time to tomorrow afternoon

[nethercomfies]

I gotta do a presentation in front of class tomorrow and maaan I'm nervous

The only saving grace here is that it's only in front of like 10 people but mannn

[apixrl]

DROWSY.

levi ackerman x fem!reader

WARNING(S): none

word count: 3.4k

song: before i close my eyes // xxxtentacion

note(s): soft levi lives in my head rent free and that's perfectly okay he can stay for as long as he wants to

Your hand pressed against your back as you stretched, stifling a yawn that echoed through the hallway. You swore you could hear your joints wailing out in distress, every step feeling as though you were dragging a weight behind you that was five times your size. Your bed was calling out to you in more ways than you could count, the idea of snuggling under the covers absolutely heavenly.

It had been a long and tiresome day, to say the least. After waking up early and in bright spirits, you made the decision to go on a long morning jog. To ready yourself for a presumably easy day. But those words came back to bite you when Captain Levi dropped you and your comrades into an intense training segment that lasted all morning. Then proceeded a heavy clean of headquarters in the afternoon. Ordered to rid the underside of the tables of dust and to clear those sneaky corners of muck that had festered far too long. To put a long story short; you were about ready to drop dead on the floor by the time evening rolled on by.

You loved Levi with all your heart, but unfortunately, your relationship with him didn't come with any bonuses. Yes, you saw a softer side on occasion, but the man never allowed bias to take over during work hours. You were treated the same as the others; a soldier in the ranks. A member of Levi's squad. When you did right you were praised and when you did wrong you served the consequences. Levi would set you on a thirty lap run around the camp perimeter if he saw fit, and there was no getting out of it. As much as you could complain, you knew it was for the best. When it came down to it, Levi was your superior as well as his partner and there had to be some line between the two.

Plodding along the hallway, your bedroom door up ahead was your saviour. You could practically taste the sweet rest waiting for you on the other side. Though just before you could reach your salvation, a voice from the neighbouring room stopped you in your step and tore you away from it.

"Y/N,"

Levi.

It would be lying to say you didn't whimper, so close to a good night's sleep yet so far all in one go. But you weren't so selfish that you'd ignore your lover's call because you were simply exhausted. Yes, you considered it... but resisting the urge gave you credibility, right?

Regardless, you exhaled a sigh knowing it would be wrong not to respond. That man you called your partner had ears like a cat anyway. He probably heard you make your way down the hall or noticed your shadow under the door and had sensed your halt upon his call. So dragging your eyes away from the vision of your wonderfully made bed (Levi having been the one to tuck the sheets in that morning since he was the last one up. So no wonder you were fantasizing at the idea of collapsing on there) behind the door of your room, you set your gaze on the door to Levi's office instead.

You realised it was open just a tad, explaining Levi sensing your approach so easily. Pressing your hands against the wooden frame, you pushed it open and popped your head around the door, forcing your eyes open no matter how much they pleaded to close against the candlelight.

As expected, Levi was seated at the chair of his desk. Neck-deep in papers that he'd been working on most of the night. One shorter pile to the left and a taller one to the right - one pile waiting to be looked at whilst the other sat completed. You wondered which one that was... and prayed for Levi's sake it was the tallest pile to allow him a good night's sleep.

His greyed eyes didn't look up upon your entry, something you just managed to notice through the strands of wispy black locks atop Levi's head. That seemed to indicate he was focused on the task at hand, especially from the way his hand efficiently worked at the pieces of paper like it was on autopilot.

"Yes, love?" You asked, resting against the door for a brief moment as your tiredness caught up with you. If you had reacted to it a second later you believed you would have tipped over from loss of balance, and you were relieved when Levi spoke up once more - his voice jolting you upright.

"I need you to take some papers down to the Commander for me," Levi stated, a certain tone in his voice indicating his own form of tiredness. But you knew that rarely stopped him and his work, the man willing to stay up until the early hours of the morning just to get it finished.

His words made your body panic, unsure if it could muster a journey all the way to Erwin's whereabouts. You had barely walked up the stairs of headquarters well, let alone travelling back down them and then all the way back up again.

"It can't wait until tomorrow?" You tried, chewing the inside of your cheek gingerly. From the way Levi glanced over his wad of papers, grey eyes filled with doubt, you knew it was a longshot. "It's just late, that's all. You need to rest,"

"No," Levi ceased all action, slouching down in his seat briefly as his fingertips held the bridge of his nose. His version of a short break and a way to bury his annoyance down. It appeared to be one of those nights, where he was swamped with work and didn't have the opportunity to simply 'head to bed'. "I'm still nowhere near done, and I don't have the time to take the ones I've already looked at to Erwin because of that," It was there his hand propped up, elbow resting on his other which has splayed over his chest. He motioned you over, eyes skipping between you and the seat opposite him until you got the message.

You were delayed in realising, feeling guilty at your inability to proceed Levi's words. You heard them, but fatigue seemed to seize hold and throw them out the window before your brain could comprehend the meaning. You hoisted yourself off of the doorframe, letting the hinges squeak the door shut behind you as you made your way to Levi's desk. You then sat yourself down, hands pressed to the chair arms as your attention steered to your partner.

"Okay... so which pile am I taking?" Was your question, forcing a small smile to at least seem interested. The black-haired man straightened up, eyes skimming over the papers on his desk and seemingly on the floor too. That made your brow raise, head tilting to the side ever so slightly in wonder. What was behind the desk?

Levi proceeded to push his chair back with his feet, his head quickly disappearing under the table as if to grab something. You rested your cheek in your palm as you waited, a hint of a frown as you waited. Your assumptions were correct as, after a few seconds of scuffling around, Levi reappeared from under the desk - standing up to place yet another pile of paper wherever his desk had the space to hold it.

"This one," He addressed, exhaling heavily once he was comfortable in his seat again. Just when you thought that was it, Levi pushed the taller pile of papers forward as well, and it would be wrong to say you were joyful of the sight. In fact, you were very much dismayed, the sight of the multiple piles of papers meaning more than one trip.

Suddenly you wished the shorter pile was the finished one.

"And this one," Levi spoke with little character as per usual, gazing upon the piles of papers like they were nothing more than a pile of dirt. Clearly, he had experienced little joy going through them, but work never got done whilst complaining. The only words ringing in his mind to convince Levi to get his head down and focus. "You'll probably need to take two trips,"

"You don't say," You commented and sighed to yourself. For hours you had awaited your mattress and now look at you, even further away from reaching it as before. It was a big shame you woke up in such an energetic mood and was ending the day feeling like you couldn't lift a finger. "And if I cant find Commander Erwin?"

"He should be in his office," Levi returned. "But if not, place the right pile on his desk," He then gestured to the left, hand pressing on top for emphasis. "This one will need sorting, however. Just separate the tags in the stack and the drawer they belong in is on there. It shouldn't take you too long, just make sure the files are in the right place or Erwin won't be pleased. Oh, and try not to drop them, please? I'd rather not lose four hours worth of work because of your two left feet -," Levi was cut short by a sound he was not at all expecting. A snorting noise caught him off guard, but when he looked up at you in question the answers quickly came pouring in.

It appeared in Levi's ramble you had grown bored. As there you were, head lolling forwards as your arm tried to prop it up, eyes closed and snoring away to your heart's content. Levi quirked a brow at your behaviour, then scoffed lightly. The man couldn't say he was surprised, of course you would nod off to sleep exactly when he needed your help. At a time where he was swamped with things to do and an extra pair of hands wouldn't hurt.

"Y/N," He tried after a minute or so passed, Levi frowning at the lack of response. If anything, the snoring grew louder. It was there he tried again, a little more firmly and loudly but still, nothing.

Typical.

Levi sat there in silence and disbelief, watching your frame rise and fall with each intake of breath. Meanwhile, you simply slept on without a care in the world, but it's not like he could leave you there. Leaving you sleeping in such a way was bound to cause a nasty neck and backache the following morning. So with a sigh, Levi hoisted himself out of his chair and walked around his desk to your side. Then he knelt down to your level, hand landing on your shoulder to give you a gentle but firm shake.

"Y/N," Levi spoke, a little softer this time, all whilst trying to nudge you awake. It appeared you had only lightly nodded off, as, after three or four shakes, you stirred out of your little nap. Your eyes shot open to meet Levi's observing you closely, a hint of a frown to his face as he did. In your state you barely noticed though, too busy trying to shake off your drowsiness but failing miserably as your eyes merely drooped more.

"Levi?" You mumbled tiredly, lifting your gaze towards your lover, puzzled over why he was so close to you. "What is it?"

"You fell asleep," Levi said with hesitancy, glancing away from you for a second before he continued. "Is everything alright?"

"Hm? Yes... everything's fine," You reassured, sending him a reassuring smile. Levi narrowed his gaze, prompting you to keep going. "It's just been a long day, that's all,"

"I see," Levi nodded, noticing your lack of attentiveness and sleepy demeanour. All of which you tried to force back through your smile. But Levi knew you better than that. He could see straight through the façade just how you could see straight through his, acting as though you were fine when it was truly quite the opposite. That was enough for Levi to suspect something was up, and that little switch in his head that differed between his role as Captain and partner flipped in an instant.

"Sorry... y-you were saying something before I dropped off weren't you?" You asked and pointed to the papers on the table. "Something about them?"

Levi turned to look at where you gestured, seeing the papers that still needed taking to Erwin. He contemplated still asking for your help, but it was obvious from just the way you looked alone that you were long desperate for rest. So exhaling a small sigh, Levi reluctantly cast his gaze back onto you and shook his head.

"No, don't worry about it," He allowed his hand to leave your shoulder and moved it to your face. Where he tucked a few loose strands of your H/C hair behind your ear, continuing. "It can wait until tomorrow,"

"Are you sure?" You asked through a yawn, leaning into the hand that Levi proceeded to support your cheek with. The subtle graze of his thumb over your cheekbone relaxing you to the point sleep nearly stole you from him once more.

As much as he disliked tampering with his organised routine, Levi knew sending you on errands whilst so tired would do you no good the next day. Perhaps he had pushed you a little far without realising, the thought running through his mind later on in the morning. You'd been lagging behind your comrades more than usual. Much opposing to you typically being at the front of the group and urging them on over the other way around. Whilst it wasn't as obvious in the afternoon, the strain in your expression as you scrubbed the floors and countertops had peeked its way through to him. Levi knew you in and out, and the frustration displayed ran much deeper than that of germs and bacteria. That was blatant now more than ever, so the least you deserved was a good night's rest. Just because he could run on little hours of sleep didn't mean you could.

"Yeah," Levi admired you under the dim light of his office after he spoke. Your inattentive gaze somehow continued to hold such focus as you looked back at him. The way you smiled with such love and yearn. How your cheek felt warm in his palm like he was holding the entire world. Which he was really. He was holding his entire world.

"Oh... okay," You said and your eyes drooped shut, not reopening. That brought Levi to act, blinking out of his daze and pulling himself to his feet with a sharp inhale.

"Come on, let's get you to bed," He said and slipped his arms around you, lifting you into their secure hold. You didn't protest, too tired to make a sound as you adjusted to the new position. A comfier position that ensured security and safety. One hand supported your back as Levi's bicep acted as your pillow and his spare arm hooked under your legs. You could feel the ever so gentle thump of Levi's heartbeat close to your ear, much opposing to his regular temperament - curt and firm and even quite harsh at the most.

Levi carried you out of his office, using his foot to open the door as he proceeded to venture down the hall to your shared bedroom. The place you had been going to before you were called to his aid. You kept your eyes closed the entire time but didn't nod off just yet, the bobbing motion of Levi's walk both drifting and stirring you from sleep. It wasn't long before Levi was pulling back the sheets whilst he only just managed to hold you with one arm. You made it easier by wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, giggling lightly to yourself when you almost slipped. Somewhere in Levi's silence, he found it amusing. Perhaps not verbally placed, but you sensed it nonetheless. Still, he downplayed it with concern, his hand pressing against your back to hold you closely against his frame.

He placed you down with care, hand only leaving your back once it rested on the mattress. Sliding it out, it returned to the sheets as he placed them back over you. Meanwhile, you watched through half-lidded eyes, following where Levi's gaze trailed. Mainly sticking to the sheets he tucked in for you out of the goodness of his heart, though flickered back to you on occasion. His eyes contained a warmth that opposed their normal grey colour. A warmth that he usually failed to place into the spoken word and resorted to showing it rather than saying it.

Eventually, Levi finished, his hands stopping their skilful movement and pressing into the pillow on either side of your head. He was silent for a moment, observing your tiresome state and realising just how fatigued he was too. He battled the urge to collapse on the bed beside you, pull you into his arms and fall fast asleep. To ignore his duties for just one night. Give himself a treat and spend the night snoozing away like the everyday citizen. But Levi knew that was irresponsible. He had been irresponsible enough leaving the paperwork so late. It also wasn't the life he had been fated to lead, regardless of how pleasant the idea may be in the subconscious of his mind.

"I still have a lot of work to do," He uttered no louder than a whisper, exhaling deeply in an apologetic sigh and hating the idea of traipsing back to his office to work. "I'll have to join you later but I'm guessing you'll be asleep,"

"It's okay," You hummed, head tilting to the side as an innocent smile formed on your face. "Do I get a kiss good night, at least?"

Levi couldn't fight the small chuckle that escaped him, head proceeding to hang forwards and shake too and fro at your words. He truly felt he didn't deserve you and the love you gave him. Always so understanding, never complaining about his packed work schedule. How you made him feel steady and kept him sane. Perhaps it was because you were a soldier too and knew how time-consuming the job was, but Levi was grateful for all of it. The man met your eyes, a certain radiance in them that he'd refrain from showing to anyone else other than you.

"You're twenty-nine years old and you act like a child," He remarked with no ill intent, the laugh that elicited from you music to his ears.

"Yeah, and you chose to -," You were cut off, Levi leaning forwards to press his lips to yours in a tender kiss. You hummed in approval, forgetting the words you planned to say and instead enjoyed the display of affection. Levi lingered longer than usual, an indirect apology for the fact he had to leave you with the bed half cold. You didn't question it, knowing Levi's work never truly stopped and granted him a break. The fact he'd even paused just to tuck you in comfortably was enough to satisfy your needs, whether Levi would believe that or not was up to him. But your eyes fell closed, both from bliss and sleep catching up to claim control.

Gradually your lips loosened on Levi's, indicating you had nodded off. He opened his eyes and pulled back in question, watching your head tilt faintly to the side as your pillow held its weight. Levi exhaled deeply, leaning down to plant one final kiss on your forehead. Then he hoisted himself off of the bed and walked to the door.

"Good night, Y/N," He said once there, glancing back at you one final time. From where he stood, you appeared merrily at peace. Finally grateful for the embrace of your bedsheets after a dragging day of nonstop training. Levi did feel somewhat bad for being a cause for your tiredness, knowing that he could sometimes be cruel when playing his 'Captain' role. But he couldn't favour you just because of his feelings, and the fact you rarely made that an issue provided him relief like no other. Still, Levi's guilt asserted as he closed the bedroom door quietly behind him.

Why... it wouldn't be terrible if he let you sleep in a little bit past the wake-up call, would it?

[shieldmaidenofgod]

Writing Our History––Prologue

This is an Arthur x reader fic I had an idea for a while back. Hope you enjoy it! Story below the cut.

(Y/N) sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. She set her delicate embroidery on her lap and looked around the parlor as if something in the room would suddenly be able to entertain her.

After a few more painfully intricate stitches, she decided to forgo her embroidery work and laid it on the seat of her chair as she stood. She made her way to the gardens to get some fresh air, smoothing the small wrinkles and crumples out of her wide skirts on the way.

Once (Y/N) was outside of the mansion, she took a deep breath of the crisp spring air. A soft breeze danced through the arches of twisted rose vines and rows of bluebells and forget-me-nots, sending their fragrance through the air and swirling around (Y/N).

Giggles rang through the gardens and (Y/N) smiled, knowing it was her young cousin Percival playing between the neatly-trimmed hedges.

(Y/N)’s aunt Marjorie and her son Percival had moved to America with her family back in 1895. The Great Land of Opportunity had apparently intrigued Marjorie as much as her brother, (Y/N)’s father. Percival hadn’t been so excited to leave all his friends in the private school he attended in England, but he hadn’t had much choice.

Mr. Gilbert Hawthorn had decided to uproot his entire family from their estate in Halifax, England and move them all to America, and had succeeded in making something of himself. He had gone from simply being a wealthy man with a daughter every young man wished to marry to being a wealthy man and partner in a booming business with a daughter every young man wished to marry.

(Y/N) Hawthorn had not been too pleased with her father’s decision to leave England for America, but she was in no place to argue with her father, nor did she wish to be. (Y/N) was not a confrontational young lady, especially toward men, and even more so toward the man who clothed and fed her.

(Y/N) took a deep breath to clear her mind and watched her wide skirts brush up against the rows of bluebells along the sides of the garden’s pathway. The numerous full layers of linens, velvets, and crinolines were so big that seeing her legs move was practically impossible. Percival had once said that it looked like she was floating instead of walking.

Percival must have caught sight of her bright yellow dress between the tall leafy hedges, because he shouted her name and began running to greet her. (Y/N) turned the paved corner of the walkway and grinned at the sight of her cousin, opening her arms for a hug. Little Percival ran into her poofy skirts and wrapped his short arms around her legs. Her heart swelled at the thought of the immense love the little boy had for his cousin.

(Y/N) laughed lightheartedly and squeezed her cousin. “Hello, Percy!”

“I found a turtle by the bird baths!” Percy cried, hopping excitedly.

“Oh, did you?” (Y/N) picked up her skirts to raise them above the grass and began to follow Percy, who was skipping ahead of her off the path. “I wonder why he traveled all the way out here. The pond is decently far away; I’m sure that’s where he came from,” she mused aloud.

“See?” Percy pointed to the small turtle that was slowly inching toward one of the bird baths.

“Oh! He is rather cute, isn’t he?” (Y/N) bent down to get a closer look at the animal as Percy picked it up.

“Can I keep him?” the little boy asked.

“Well, that’s not really up to me to decide,” (Y/N) said, straightening up. “I’ll tell you what. You go and find something to put him in and then go see if your Uncle Gilbert will let you keep him in the greenery room. How does that sound?”

Percy nodded, ecstatic that he might now have a pet of his own, and ran off with the turtle into the mansion.

“Oh! Careful!” (Y/N) called after the boy. “Make sure he doesn’t end up upside down!” (Y/N) smiled and shook her head with a chuckle, walking back to the path to finish her garden stroll.

<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>*<*>

That evening, (Y/N) sat at the mahogany desk in her room, writing a letter to one of her friends in England. A knock sounded at (Y/N)’s door and she announced for the knocker to enter.

“Supper will be ready in five minutes’ time, Mademoiselle,” a maid said in her thick French accent.

“Thank you, Dominique. I’ll be right down,” said (Y/N), wiping her fountain pen’s nib clean and closing the small inkpot with its cork stopper. With all the doorways she’d have to squeeze her voluminous skirts through, it was best that she left then.

After navigating through long corridors and twisting staircases, (Y/N) made it to the spacious dining room just as her mother, father, aunt, and cousin were sitting down to eat.

Supper began quietly as the servants doled out portions of boiled potatoes and cabbage, cream corn, roasted chicken, sautéed collard and mustard greens, and flakey buttered croissants.

“(Y/N),” the girl’s father spoke up after swallowing his first bite, “tomorrow morning, Dominique will prepare your hair and assist you in dressing. We have an important visitor arriving in the afternoon.”

“Oh?” (Y/N) raised her water glass to her lips. “Is it another one of your business partners?”

“Yes. He and I will be discussing a, ah . . . different sort of ‘business’ prospect.” He put another large spoonful of cream corn in his mouth, his bushy mustache brushing the food and picking up a coating of the cream. “Your marriage.” He said this rather bluntly, as if it meant nothing, although it was quite the revelation to his daughter.

(Y/N) choked on her drink and coughed into her glass at hearing the mention of her supposed wedding. She raised her napkin to her mouth to avoid spraying water on anyone as she spluttered for air. Dominique rushed from her position alongside the other servants against the wall to (Y/N) and patted her back.

“Mademoiselle!” the maidservant exclaimed. “Are you all right?” (Y/N) nodded, still coughing, but Dominique didn’t move from her side.

“Honestly, dear,” (Y/N)’s mother said with an irritated sigh, not even bothered to look up from her plate, “must you carry on coughing like that? Surely you do not need to be so dramatic.”

(Y/N) glared at her mother with red, watering eyes and continued to cough into her napkin.

“Perhaps I should escort Mademoiselle (Y/N) to her rooms and she can finish her supper there?” Dominique suggested in an attempt to prevent any heated argument from arising (as they so often did at the dining table).

“Yes, I think that would be best. Mrs. Hawthorn, do pass the butter,” Mr. Hawthorn said to his wife.

Dominique quickly arranged (Y/N)’s supper on a silver tray and led her to her bedroom, the fuming girl slamming the door shut behind them.

“I can’t believe him!” (Y/N) shrieked. “Marrying me off to a business partner like I’m some . . . slab of meat he can sell to the butcher!”

Dominique shook her head. “It’s revolting.” She set down the tray on (Y/N)’s desk. “Oh, Mademoiselle. I do wish there was something I could do.”

(Y/N) plopped into an armchair with a huff. “I don’t think there’s anything anyone can do.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll just do my best with your preparations anyway,” Dominique said.

“Yes, I think that would be best,” (Y/N) agreed.

Later that evening, (Y/N) laid in bed, her hair having been washed and dried by Dominique, ready to be styled the next morning.

Nearly all of (Y/N)’s anger had turned into a twisted, mangled knot of anxiety and betrayal that’d made its home in the pit of her stomach. How could her father think it was all right to give her away to some man she probably had never even met? Did her father and mother even love her anymore now that she was of age to be married? Did they ever care to begin with?

What if he’s old? (Y/N) thought. What if he hits me? What if he just wants a pretty face to parade around and show off at parties?

As the moon began to lower in the sky, (Y/N) eventually fell into a fitful sleep, her thoughts swirling around like a hurricane in her mind.

She woke early, the first rays of sunlight shining through her large bay windows and into her eyes and causing her to squint. Dominique strode quickly into (Y/N)’s room with her arms full of pressed crinolines, petticoats, skirts, a corset, and a basket of supplies hanging on her arm to fix (Y/N)’s hair.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Dominique announced. “Out of bed now, Mademoiselle, we’ve a lot to do before your . . . ah . . . meeting,” she said with a cringe-like grimace, “and you must eat breakfast before all that, too.”

(Y/N) nodded and yawned as she stood from her bed. Dressing and hair styling was quite boring, but (Y/N) had a book of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s poetry to lighten the mood. Nothing much besides Dominique’s skillful hair styling was going on, except for when (Y/N) noticed something out her window.

“What is that?” she asked, pointing to the dark blob on the horizon.

Dominique squinted out the window. “I’m not sure,” she said. “Looks like it might be someone on a horse.”

(Y/N) hummed. “I wonder what they’re doing,” she mused.

A sudden knock sounded at the door, startling both Dominique and (Y/N).

Mrs. Hawthorn opened the door. “The carriage will be ready in ten minutes,” she announced, a haughty, almost triumphant look on her face. “Be finished by then.” With that, she left just as quickly as she’d come.

Dominique sighed, finishing the braid she’d been working on. “I wish you the best of luck, Mademoiselle,” she said softly, brushing non-existent debris off (Y/N)’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Dominique,” (Y/N) murmured, reaching out to hold and pat the maid’s hand. “I’m sure I’ll be back for supper.”

[thevioletcaptain]

Coals Aglow

11.4k | Explicit | DeanCas 

A years-delayed 13.21 coda, in which Cas uses his grace in ways that it is probably not supposed to be used, and gentle-doms Dean into asking for what he wants.

{i}

It’s been several hours since the rebels split off into groups—half retiring to their sleeping quarters while the others walked with purpose to keep sentry around the camp’s perimeter—and Castiel has made a point to visit every one, speaking with each of them until he understands as much of this place as he possibly can. Just in case.

Castiel supposes that he could have just asked Jack, but despite Sam’s unexpected return he’s been quiet all evening. Almost withdrawn. It makes sense, considering how Sam came to be here and who he’d been forced to bring with him, but it still makes Castiel uneasy. Even after all these years, after his slip-slide into feeling, the emotional discomfort is something he’s not quite accustomed to.

Close to one in the morning, he spots Dean sitting on a log by the remains of a fire at the center of camp, picking idly at the bag of Skittles he’d packed for the trip and referred to as “trail mix” to irritate his brother. Sam is nowhere to be seen now. Dean appears to be doing little more than quietly passing the time.

After what happened this afternoon, Sam’s absence from Dean’s side is noteworthy enough to make Castiel apprehensive about joining him, but he pushes past his reservations and powers ahead. He’d rather sit with Dean in silence than go anywhere else, and though Dean has never said so, he knows that he’s not alone in his preference for spending what little downtime they have together.

Up close, he can see that the fire has burned down to little more than coals and ash. Dean prods at the sole remaining log with a stick, disrupting sparks and dark plumes of smoke that curl up into the night.

As Castiel sits beside him, the log shifts, pressing down into the loamy earth. Dean glances over to look at him. The weak light of the embers casts him in its deep orange glow, reflecting in his eyes, bright as the long-gone sunset. Something in Castiel’s chest settles at the sight.

“You doing okay?” Dean asks, offering the bag of Skittles. Castiel can only shrug as he takes a few and pops them into his mouth.

Almost as soon as he starts chewing, they dissolve into their component parts—citric acid splitting into carbon and hydrogen and oxygen; sucrose molecules breaking down into fructose and glucose. With effort, he focuses on all of them at once and captures a glimpse of the intended taste, just for a moment, before an unfathomable number of branched chain starch molecules unravel on his tongue, overwhelming the bright flavor he’d briefly enjoyed.

He’s been working on this. Testing things, training himself to taste the sum and not the parts. It’s a work in progress, but it’s one that he’s resolved to see through until it’s an automatic process.

“Relatively,” he says, and swallows the candy before he has to taste it any longer. “How are you?”

“Relatively,” Dean parrots, folding the bag up and poking it into his jacket pocket. “What a day, huh?”

“Mm.”

“Where’s Sam?”

“With Mom and Jack. Sleeping. Don’t think he wanted to be alone while he’s in the camp.”

Dean doesn’t gesture toward the place they designated to hold Lucifer overnight, but Castiel looks toward it anyway. He imagines he can feel his brother’s cold, prickling energy down to the tips of his fingers. Like frostbite. He frowns and turns back to Dean; tries to soak in his warmth instead.

“You should get some rest, too,” he says.

“Yeah, probably. Tomorrow’s gonna be a bitch.”

“Even by our standards,” Castiel agrees.

Dean huffs, his mouth ticking up to the right, and scuffs his heel in the dirt. Castiel watches as he picks idly at the log they sit upon; the twitch in his cheek as he hisses and inspects his index finger before raising it to his mouth. The shape of his lips as he tries to suck a splinter loose from where it's buried itself beneath his fingernail.

“Damnit,” Dean mutters, pulling his hand back to look at it with a frown.

“Here.”

Reaching out, Castiel catches Dean’s wrist in one hand and his fingers in the other, expending a shimmering wisp of grace to work the splinter free. He’s not sure what compels him to make such a show of it — he could have healed the minuscule injury from where he’s sitting without touching Dean at all — but he can’t help himself.

At some point, years ago, his duty to help Dean and his desire to be close to him got all tangled up. He can no longer recall when he’d started healing him through unnecessary touch, but it’s the singular selfish thing that he does, and he’s not planning on stopping unless Dean tells him to.

The splinter falls silently to the dirt at their feet. Castiel curls the tip of his index finger against the tiny puncture in Dean’s skin, directing his grace as it knits back together.

Beside him, Dean lets out an unsteady breath, and a pulse of love stretches out from his soul to brush against Castiel’s true form. If he’s being truly honest with himself, this is another major reason why Castiel allows himself to touch him in moments like this; he knows that Dean enjoys it as much as he does.

Despite all his half-hearted blustering about personal space, Dean is a tactile person, and the moments when Castiel heals him are the moments when his heart is the most open. When he lets himself feel the way he feels without holding back, just for a breath or two. It’s enough. It’s always been enough.

But now—the feeling draws out longer than usual, shifting to something closer to hunger, to desire, and Dean’s fingers flex a little in Castiel’s hand. When Castiel starts to pull away they turn to gently grip him back. And this…

This is new.

Not the feeling—that has been there for years, poorly concealed and just below the surface—but the action that echoes it. Dean has never done something like this, and Castiel has never been brave enough to try it himself. He’s still not, he realizes as he looks down at their hands tangled together and tries to strategize a safe response.

He’s got no ideas, so he doesn’t move. Couldn’t move if he tried.

“Y’know,” Dean says, interrupting his thoughts with his voice pitched low, and Castiel glances back up to see that his pupils are blown wide. Apprehensive. Tense. Aroused, Castiel’s mind supplies, and he pushes the thought away just in time for Dean to make him wonder if he’d been too hasty in rejecting it. “I don’t think I can stand to be alone tonight, either.”

There’s a clear, deliberate weight to Dean’s words, and although Castiel recognizes it for what it is almost immediately, he hasn’t got the slightest clue how he’s expected to address it. How could he? They’ve kept such a delicate balance for so long that even this one sentence feels monumental. It’s as though Dean has casually dropped an anchor onto a scale that would have been thrown off kilter by a feather, and now he’s just sitting here, acting as though he hasn’t just thrown out the entire rule book of their relationship.

Castiel is afraid to respond at all. He wishes he wasn’t, but fear compounded by habit is hard to shake.

“I could watch over you,” he offers eventually, hating himself for taking the easy way out even as he says it, and waiting for the inevitable refusal. Dean exhales as he slowly pulls his hand away and shifts his gaze back to the glowing embers.

“Aren’t you tired, Cas?”

“I’m running a little low on grace, but—”

“No, I mean—aren’t you tired of… of this.” He waves between them with an open hand, the movement far too casual to be anything but calculated, and glances back to meet Castiel’s eyes. “We could die tomorrow.”

“You could say that about every day, for us.”

“Yeah, but,” Dean huffs. “Look, can we just—”

Pushing to his feet, Dean takes a few steps away before turning back to look at Castiel, his hands tense at his sides, clenching into fists and releasing, over and over as though he needs the movement to keep from… something. Castiel isn’t sure what. But his eyes are pleading. Begging Castiel to meet him halfway.

Castiel wants to. He’s just trying to figure out how.

“Can we skip this part?” Dean asks.

“What do you—”

“The—” Dean briefly lifts his hands, then lets them fall helplessly back to his sides. “The… I don’t know, man. The freakin’ confessions. The discussion. The… the whole what now thing. All that bullshit.” He looks up at Castiel. “Can we just skip it?”

Castiel blinks, slow.

“You mean—”

“I mean I’ve had enough, Cas. I’m tired, and I don’t— I don’t see the point in ignoring this anymore. I haven’t really seen the point in a while. Didn’t want to rock the boat, I guess, but now…”

“But now you’re tired.”

“Yeah.”

“So you’re rocking the boat.”

Dean doesn’t respond to the question directly; just looks at Castiel with a determination in his eyes that leaves no room for misunderstanding, and says, “I’m going to bed. You should come with me.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply. Doesn’t even pause to see if his assumption that Castiel understands his meaning is correct.

Castiel is surprised at his confidence. Not because he’s wrong to have it, but because even though this thing that’s been growing between them for near on a decade has been more difficult to deny with every passing year, even though Castiel has been able to feel Dean’s longing for him as sharply as he’s been able to feel his own, Dean has still never acknowledged it in any concrete way.

For his own part, Castiel has given him more openings than his pride would like him to admit, but Dean’s played things so close to his chest the entire time that Castiel has always assumed he didn’t want to deal with it at all.

He just didn’t think they’d ever get here.

There’s always been something in the way. An apocalypse, a near death, an actual death. Something. When he came back from the Empty, miraculously alive again against all odds, he’d thought to himself, it’s now or never, and Dean had barreled into him, fingers pressed to the back of his neck as they’d embraced in a dimly lit alleyway, and Castiel had felt love radiating from him like light from a star, and still nothing had changed.

So, never, he’d thought. He’d made his peace with it. Being near Dean was enough, if being with Dean was not an option.

But now—

Dean is already nearing the dilapidated mess hall he’s been set up in for the night—the camp only has so much space for sleeping quarters—and Castiel hurries to catch up. He slips through the door behind him and into the dark.

Inside, the main room is cluttered and overfull with folding tables.

A dozen or so chairs are stacked along the walls, and the faint scent of instant coffee lingers in the air. Ahead, Dean maneuvers through a tight gap between tables toward a dark red door. When they make their way inside, it’s to find a cramped storeroom, where a thin bedroll and blanket has been set out for Dean on the floor alongside several unlabelled boxes and a shelf of cleaning supplies. His backpack sits at one end like a makeshift pillow.

Near the ceiling, there’s a single narrow window, and the moonlight that filters through its dusty pane catches on the buttons on Dean’s jacket, reflects bright in his eyes as he turns to look back at Castiel.

Years ago, in a similarly cramped storeroom in the Rexford Gas n Sip, Castiel had knelt on the floor to gather his things while Dean waited outside in the Impala, and wondered if perhaps one of them would be brave enough to ask for a single room at the motel they were headed toward.

He’d known already, even then, that what they felt for each other was far beyond the limits of friendship. Had felt it for a long time before that night, too, though it had taken an abrupt fall from Heaven and a brand new soul grown under the worst possible circumstances for him to truly understand what it meant.

But just for a few minutes, kneeling in that storeroom, he’d thought that perhaps this was the night. That Dean would make his move. That he’d summon the courage to make a move himself.

The way Dean had looked at him earlier that night had him feeling recklessly hopeful, and he’d been halfway convinced that they’d arrive at the Rexford Motor Inn, and their hands would touch as they walked to the room, and some understanding would pass between them.

That they’d fall into one another before they even managed to get through the door.

He’d thought about it in sharp detail. Imagined confessing to Dean, telling him how the first thing he’d felt when the angels stopped falling was the overwhelming desire to hear Dean’s voice. To see him. To hold him. To breathe him in.

How his fledgling soul ached every day that they’d been apart; how he’d realized, finally, that this thing between them was love.

He’d imagined it countless different ways as he pushed to his feet with a plastic bag in his hand, as he left the building and locked the door behind him, as he’d gripped the cool metal of the Impala’s door handle. As Dean’s hand had settled on the back of his seat while they reversed out of the parking space, fingers brushing carelessly against the back of Castiel’s neck.

He’s lost in the memory, still trying to wrap his head around what they’re doing here when Dean laughs aloud. Castiel meets his eyes, and feels the soul tangled up with his grace sing at the sight.

“Sorry,” Dean says, and there’s a touch of wild hysteria in his voice. “Just…” He gestures loosely around them. “Kinda hilarious that this is… we’re basically in a goddamn closet.”

Castiel can’t help but huff out a laugh himself, and Dean’s gaze drops to his mouth. It’s not the first time that’s happened. It’s not even the first time Castiel has noticed. It’s different now, though.

Because this time, Dean doesn’t immediately look away. He doesn’t step back or crack a joke or lash out or deflect. He looks at Castiel’s mouth, and he keeps on looking. And looking. And looking. Castiel feels as though he might buzz right out of his body if he doesn’t just—

“Dean.”

Dean’s eyes lift to meet Castiel’s, and there’s a shade of reckless humor in them. Something devious and endlessly irritating that makes Castiel want to throttle him for making him wait, even now, when they’re supposedly not doing that anymore.

“Yeah?”

“What are you waiting for?”

The answer, as it turns out, is nothing. Dean grins, and crowds into his space, and kisses him. Just like that.

As though it’s always been this easy. Maybe it has been.

Raising one palm to rest against Castiel’s chest, Dean slides the other into his hair, thumb dragging soft against the back of his ear as he moves him into place, and Castiel lets himself be directed. Lets Dean push him back until he’s pressed firmly against the door. Lets Dean tilt his chin just so, and deepen their kiss.

The memory of Dean’s fingers accidentally brushing against his neck that night in the Impala comes rushing back full force now that Dean is holding him there so purposefully. Kissing him with a hunger that Castiel had resigned himself to thinking would never be sated.

Even now, he’s still not sure it will be. Dean is kissing him, but Castiel still longs for him as though they aren’t pressed flush together.

Castiel isn’t sure if his perception is skewed by love, but as Dean’s lips part, he decides that despite the molecules, Skittles taste better on Dean’s tongue, and it suddenly feels incredibly important that Dean knows. Not about the Skittles, but the rest. Everything.

Can we skip it? Dean had asked, but now that they’re here, Castiel realizes that doesn’t want to.

They’ve avoided talking for years, and as Dean put it—Castiel is tired.

With his hands on Dean’s waist, working under his jacket to pull him closer still even as he breaks their kiss, Castiel does what he hadn’t been brave enough to do in Rexford. He tells Dean the truth.

[keep reading on ao3]

[elriel-oblivion]

So it's been four days so here's part two 😁 Just wanted to say a huge thanks to everyone who read/liked/commented/reblogged the last part! It was such an amazing response, especially given it was my first time posting my writing here, so thanks for all the love you shared 🥰🥰

Heads up, this part is actually part one from Elain's pov. Initially I wanted to continue from where the last part left off in Elain's pov, but as I was writing the background, I realised I'd written too much to just skip when Az gets to the estate and cut straight into a continuation of part one, so I ended up rewriting the whole thing in her view. So there's no new elriel moments, but you'll get a lot of new stuff anyway 😅 I would've said you don't have to read this part to understand part three, but when I was rereading the later parts a few hours ago, I realised there's some stuff that alludes to things in this part, so I strongly recommend you don't skip this 😅😅

Also, wow, some of my fave paragraphs I've ever written are in this part 😁 Bonus points if you can find them; there are four I'm thinking of in particular 😉

Word count: ~ 3.1K. Lemme know if you'd like to be tagged/removed 😊 Next part up in two or three days 😊

AO3

Ashes from the Deep

Part II

__

It had been a pretty uneventful day as Elain worked through her new plant textbook. Feyre and Rhysand had decided to spend the weekend away at the mountain cabin, Cassian and Nesta were away doing things she wished not to think of, and Mor was at the Winter Court.

Amren had only been round in the mornings, probably to check Elain was still alive. She'd glance round the living room, examine some of those fine crystal glasses in the display cabinet and then leave. There was no difference today, though Elain always felt Amren's scrutiny upon her even when that muted silver gaze was directed elsewhere; perusing Rhys' wine collection had become a tired ruse.

So besides preparing and taking her meals with Nuala and Cerridwen, Elain had spent her afternoon with her book, making notes and copying drawings. The twins had gone off on some errands, so she'd wandered into the garden at some point to tend to her many plants, telling them how lovely they each were. The crocuses looked particularly stunning this autumn day, their pale violet colour breathing life into the shades beneath some of the trees.

With her book, she'd identified new weeds, digging into the soil to rip some pesky ones out. Sometimes she didn't want the help of a tool; sometimes she needed to feel those roots on her bare skin.

Harvesting the carrots and beetroot was also on the agenda today, along with seeding for some spectacular displays next year. She'd been collecting the seeds from some of her summer blooms, like those soft clouds of baby's breath, saving them to replant. These she sowed directly into ground she'd prepared days before, her fingers digging into the crumbly clumps of earth.

Autumn onions she'd plant tomorrow, perhaps. Feyre always remarked on how their strong taste complimented meats well, so Elain wanted to harvest some fresh for her sister for once. It'd take a few months of waiting, but there was little else better than picking out and eating food one had grown with their bare hands and the essential ingredients of love and care.

Setting her book on the patio table, Elain surveyed the garden. It was a good day's work. Plants watered and sown, weeds uprooted, and hands sweaty and soiled, Elain was proud of what she'd achieved today. There were no distractions, nothing to take her from the one thing she always found satisfaction in.

After a long shower, she found herself back in the garden with a cup of tea and a blanket. The sunset washed the sky in a blaze of red and orange glory before it yielded to the cool tones of twilight then night. Elain sat in silence, hands wrapped around her mug. How long would it be until someone's arms were wrapped around her, until she felt the warmth her sisters finally had?

Silly, these thoughts. Immortality stretched far ahead, there would be time to develop that companionship. Months and years were but a heartbeat in the life of a High Fae. She wouldn't even notice the years pass.

Or so everybody else kept saying.

With her tea finished, she perused the book of recipes she'd borrowed from Nuala. Some recipes jumped out, ingredients for which she'd been growing for a few months now. Pumpkin pie sounded especially delightful, the gourd having almost darkened and hardened to ripe quality just a couple days ago. They should be ready for harvest tomorrow.

A chill wind sent Elain inside to prepare and have her dinner in pleasant silence. Even her mind was quiet tonight. After washing her dishes, she stood by a bay window, fingers idly tapping the windowsill.

Faelights bobbed like tiny lamps, dotted through the garden. The full moon was now high in the sky, its ghostly glow illuminating the datura flowers she'd seeded half a year ago. She pulled on her blanket and went out again for a better look at those gorgeous blooms, the petals opening only at night.

Elain couldn't be happier she'd found seeds of a triple-flowered variety. They'd grown to produce large trumpets, three layers of petals ruffled against each other. Somehow she thought of her sisters as she crouched and stared at the flowers, each layer so similar, yet fighting for space and breath as it unfurled before another. It was only when they were all fully open that they could sigh along the night breeze as one, an ethereal song of togetherness, tinged with notes of poignancy, only heard by those with the will to look deeper.

The white petals were stained with velvet violet, a true vision in her garden. While the others had given her passing compliments on the flowers, Azriel had seemed stunned the first time he saw them, citing them his favourite of all the plants Elain had grown so far. Something about their shape and contrasting colours, he'd mentioned.

She smiled fondly at the memory, where his eyes sparkled as he reached for one of the soft petals.

Her hand lashed out to grab his wrist. 'Don't touch them; the leaves and stems are highly poisonous.'

His brows rose. 'You wouldn't think that at first sight. But they're beautiful, Elain. Truly magnificent,' he said, his smooth voice so low, a voice that was night given sound. And how befitting, as even those datura flowers seemed enraptured by his presence, one shy petal finally unfurling towards him.

She beamed at him. 'They like you. Flowers like it when you talk to and compliment them - but these ones haven't given me the same reaction as they have to you. I think they really like you, Azriel.'

His answering smile was heartbreakingly tender.

A few more seconds passed before she realised she still held his wrist. She silently let go.

It was a shame she'd have to dig out the datura shrub and move it inside for the winter; it did look magnificent in the moonlight.

The sky shifted past its midnight velvet, and still Elain crouched, admiring the flowers. She shivered in the night's chill. The stars above twinkled and glistened, cold and distant as ever, yet stunning - infinitely more striking than they'd ever been when she was human. A thousand different colours sparkled in that vast expanse, the moon a phosphorescent queen in the centre of her court.

The Night Court truly lived up to its name in the wee hours of the day. Its opulence never failed to mesmerise her; the enhanced Fae eyesight was at least one thing she was grateful for from this body.

Her eyelids became heavy and she yawned. Why was she still out here? It was late into the night; she should be in bed by now. But the night was so beautiful and it was so quiet and she wanted to appreciate it all just once. Just once without the expectations of others, without having to wear that miserable smile all the time.

Of course, it didn't look miserable, which is probably why almost nobody ever bothered to look deeper into Elain. She should be used to it by now, but it still felt - wrong. That most overlooked her so long as she wore a smile. That most didn't think her capable of feeling the utter bitterness and loneliness she had once seen so plain on her sisters' faces.

And in acknowledgement of her sisters' hardships, Elain didn't fault them for not looking, for not seeing her. To see past the thick blanket of darkness in one's own mind was a trial in itself. But it had been years since the war now. And still they didn't notice.

They didn't notice that Elain was being shredded from the inside out.

It was almost laughable. But not funny enough.

No, it was not funny that people still treated Elain like a child, that people wanted to keep Elain in some weird impasse of a stage between child and adult. She'd thought finally carrying out her duty and giving her hand in marriage would show everyone that she was growing up: Elain Archeron, middle born but first married. Of course it was still on her own terms, to a man whom she'd loved. A man who'd seen her through the rubble of her family's lives. But she'd overall hoped doing what was expected of her would be enough.

Clearly not. She didn't even know who she was any more. Did she ever? Everything she'd once yearned for, gone. That fragile human life would soon be just a speck on the horizon of her past.

She sighed. Rebuilding herself was going to take a long time.

But what would she have to do for people to see her, to listen to her? Throw a rage? Fall into a drunken stupor and break a few dozen bottles?

She definitely could, but those were not her. She was Elain Archeron. And so she would wait. Patience wasn't a bad thing at all; she saw it on the shadowsinger's face all the time, that tranquility and calmness she so wished to feel inside.

Azriel. Her heart softened as he entered her mind again, and she dug her fingers into the soil, if only to occupy her fidgety hands. As sure as the chaos of her visions these days, there was a mess of butterflies related to him she wasn't willing to show. Or understand.

Elain and the spymaster? Now that was laughable. Truly laughable. He was wise and patient, while she - well, everyone already thought her a child, and though he listened like no other around her, surely even he couldn't glimpse the adult she so desperately wanted everyone to see.

No, it was foolish to entertain the idea of a relationship with him. No matter how much he saw.

No matter that he was the first to see her since Graysen.

Elain exhaled. She stifled another yawn, smoothing out the soil, then brushed her hands clean. She wrapped the blanket closer around herself and stood. Twinkling stars and velvety darkness and -

There, a knot of shadows materialising at the far edge of the garden, collecting and swirling into a larger mass before Azriel himself stepped out and sagged against a tree. His shadows whirled and obscured him, a dark fire with him burning at the core.

Elain's voice left her throat before she even thought to call him and she ran over to his figure slumped in the dimness.

She couldn't help but say his name again as she neared. 'Azriel!'

Those beautiful hands fiddled with a Siphon, but he looked even worse up close. Fatigue dragged at his body, a second weight to all the muscle and armour he already had to carry. Sweat and dirt clung to him, his hair. At least the shadows were parting, swallowing each other and misting away as they often did around her. Perhaps she should ask someday why they did that. But not today, not when his breathing was so laboured.

She raised a hand - to do what, she had no idea. She couldn't just touch him right now. 'You don't look okay.'

Something else limned his features as he huffed a light laugh and said, 'I'm fine, don't worry.' His voice was raw, so starkly different to its usual icy smoothness. It was common for him to guard his emotions, but in his state, this kind of thinking was just unhealthy. What would it take for him to be honest with her?

'You don't have to pretend with me, Azriel,' she said, lowering her hand. She studied the ground, embarrassed that she'd come up to him. What could she even offer in her pathetic childlike state when he was so clearly affected by his mission right now?

His hand rose. Her heart faltered, she had to do something, and she blurted, 'Can I wash your hair, please?'

His eyes widened, his entire composure crumbling. It wasn't often that the shadowsinger looked startled, but Elain was far too shy to show that she quite liked the effect her question had on him.

'You want to wash my hair?'

His face was so exquisite, it hurt to look at it. His eyes would be even worse; it wouldn't be the first time she was rendered speechless by their kind gaze. A myriad of colours swirled in their glistening depths - gorgeous greens and brilliant browns, all so natural and rich, if only she could look at them long enough to find their matches in the garden around her. Though, his eyes were an entire spectrum of colour in their own right. How would she ever pick out each and every shade?

And if she somehow did have the courage to meet his eyes now, what would she see of herself in their reflection?

A lovesick puppy? A doe-eyed, fearful fawn?

No, she didn't want to know.

So she swallowed and focused on his hair. Perhaps this Fae eyesight was a curse, for even his hair was shockingly fascinating. Only flat black from a distance, the faelights bobbing about the trees highlighted layer upon layer of silky raven locks up close. His hair was so dark it seemed to absorb the surrounding light. Mud stained one side of his head, and it was an effort to keep her hands from brushing it away, so she said, 'I'm positive that's mud and you shouldn't sleep with that in your hair. It'll only take a few minutes.'

He ran a hand through his hair, clumps of dirt falling out.

'You've managed to get some on your face, too.' There were light specks of mud and blood across his face, a more noticeable patch along his cheekbone, thrown into sharper relief by the faelights and his own weariness. Was that a cut beneath the patch? And another on his temple?

She leashed her arms.

What had happened? He wore the signs of a fight, but why would he come here when he knew Elain was the only one home?

His eyes bored into her face, but she refused to meet them. He seemed to lean forward then, stumbling.

Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous that he wouldn't even acknowledge he was in need. Azriel rarely stumbled. Any fatigue Elain had felt just a while ago was now burrowing down a little longer. Her voice was firm when she spoke. 'I'm washing your hair. It'll help relax you into falling asleep.'

His brows rose, but if Elain stood there one more moment she wouldn't have the courage to do anything for him. For herself - she could take care of someone else. She could do for Azriel what she hadn't done for Feyre all those years as a human.

And for Azriel, she could tend to the male who'd provided her with comfort and safety in this world of distress and danger.

So she pulled him along, clenching her jaw and refusing to look back. Her heart hammered in her chest but she continued, hand wrapped round his armoured arm. Her hand slid down to his wrist but just as she was about to replace her grip, he grabbed her other hand and pulled her into him.

The shadows instantly began to ensconce them, dozens of those cool tendrils twining like vines. The estate loomed huge before them, and Elain gripped Azriel's hand tighter. 

'My bathroom,' she said. Beneath the low whisper of those shadows, her blood thrummed, her heart so painfully obvious against her ribs now. It would be a wonder if the spymaster wasn't aware of it. Though she did hear another flutter above, right by her ear. But as expected, the shadows made quick work of their journey and she didn't have the chance to dwell on it further.

Now out of the comfort of Azriel's hold, Elain set down her blanket and made to grab a chair from her bedroom. His dark presence was so overwhelming that she exhaled lightly as she entered the room and took the chair. She dragged it to the sink, avoiding his gaze, and pulled a towel, soap and a large jug from the cupboard by the door.

As she settled the soap and jug on the sink, she dared a glance at him. He was still clad in full armour, those black scales gleaming like obsidian over his skin, his Siphons glistening jewels across his body. 'I think you'll have to collapse your armour for this,' she said.

He inclined his head and tapped a Siphon, those scales lashing back into each other with cruel elegance. They were a mirror of their master: cold, controlled and unyielding, forged from scintillating darkness. He was a night sky riddled with stars; light existed if only one bothered to look for it.

Azriel's great wings righted themselves as he stood straight, now looking smaller in just his black tunic and trousers. Something about him seemed vulnerable without the armour, so Elain breathed, 'It's beautiful, all of it.' The hulking armour, the classic simplicity of the tunic and trousers, and the male who wore them all.

He was just so wonderful, Azriel. An enigma that could see her own. Her heart clenched.

Azriel rustled his wings, colour blossoming on his cheeks.

Elain blinked and pulled the chair out a little. 'Please sit.' As he sunk down, she rested the towel on his shoulders, hovering her fingers above his forehead. Her body tensed and her fingers remained suspended. It was like a spark of tension flickered in the space between their skin, teasing her, tempting her, taunting her.

After all, she'd offered to wash his hair, an act that would certainly require touching. But why was she so hesitant? She'd touched him before - kissed his cheek, even. Although that had been in the heat of adrenaline, a mark of her gratitude where a simple thank you wouldn't suffice, not for risking his own life for hers.

This was - what was this?

She finally lowered her fingers through that tense spark, pushing his head back against the sink. It was exhilarating, this contact, but he lowered his wings, shifting on the seat. Elain moved into the space he gave, turning on the tap as he went still. Just as her body was taut, taut as the skin of a drum.

She checked the water. Warm. It was time to start.

Azriel was looking up at her. Something like yearning swirled in his eyes.

He looked so tired. It made her heart ache.

'You can close your eyes,' Elain whispered. And he did.

___

Feedback's welcomed; thanks for reading 😊

If anyone wants to know what the datura flowers look like, CTTO:

@illyrian-lover-flower @julesherondalex @nooriee @mis-lil-red @verifiefangirl @tswaney17

[mintaka14]

Coryphée

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

Chapter Six – Coda

“I heard,” one of the seamstresses said from her workstation, “that the results of the concours are going out today.”

And of course, the backstage staff knew before the dancers themselves had even received the letters of offer or rejection. Marinette shifted on her stool and frowned down in concentration at the old costume she was unpicking, one laborious stitch at a time.

The names of the new premiére danseuses and premier danseurs were tossed around, and Marinette only paid them half a mind, until someone asked, “What about the new sujet? Who got that one?”

“Oh, Mireille Caquet got the promotion,” someone else said, and Marinette put down the seam ripper in surprise.

“Not Lila Rossi?” she asked, and the girl across from her started laughing.

“Not in a month of Sundays,” Nicolette snorted. “That one’s never going to make it out of quadrilles, I can tell you that, and bad luck to her. Always so rude, and I don’t envy anyone who ever gets her for fittings.” She giggled. “We always make sure Mlle Rossi gets the last pick of the gowns and wigs, the one that’s always just a little bit too tight or a colour she doesn’t like much.”

Marinette couldn’t help the gasp of laughter that escaped her.

“Did you know her?” someone else asked Marinette.

“Of course she did,” Nicolette said. “Marinette was in the corps until she grew a brain and got out.”

Marinette just smiled and picked up the seam ripper again.

“Besides, I heard there’ve been discussions going on,” Pascal said from his workstation as he concentrated on the placement of another sequin. “Lila Rossi pissed off the wrong person, and the Director of the Conservatory himself got involved. They’re not going to renew her season’s contract when it finishes soon.”

That provoked an uproar in the atelier, and Marinette’s seam picker fell from her fingers to bounce on the floor.

“But… she was a permanent contract! She said she was permanent.”

Pascal was shaking his head gleefully. “No, no, chérie. She was a seasonal.”

There was a knock on the atelier door, and a ripple of excited murmuring ran through the room.

“Marinette,” one of the seamstresses said in a singsong voice. “Your boyfriend’s here.”

And Luka was leaning against the doorframe, his gorgeous blue eyes only on her.

“Ready to go, melody?” he asked, and Eloise Marchand waved her off with an indulgent smile.

“There’s nothing that can’t be done tomorrow,” the costume director told her. “We’ll all be packing up soon anyway. You go and enjoy your evening.”

Marinette ignored the giggles and sighs as she carefully put away the costume she’d been working on and gathered up her things. It was all good-humoured, and Nicolette whispered, “You’re so lucky” as Marinette passed her.

“I know,” she whispered back, and then Luka took her hand, his smile lighting up, and she followed him out the door. All the way down from the sixth floor they talked about inconsequential things, and how his search for an apartment was going.

“I mean, I love the Liberty,” Luka sighed, “and I’m going to miss Ma and Jules, but I’m really not going to miss Jules banging on the wall or making comments any time you come round.”

Juleka had been having way too much fun with playing spoilsport lately. Marinette felt the embarrassed fire rising in her face, and changed the subject. She eyed Luka thoughtfully, and brought up a suspicion that she’d had since Pascal had shared his piece of gossip.

“I heard a rumour today that Lila’s seasonal contract with the company is getting cancelled, and that the Director of the Conservatory of Music was involved. You wouldn’t have had anything to do with that, would you?” she asked, and he cast his eyes up.

“I may have had a conversation with my mother’s ex-boyfriend who just happens to be the Director of the Conservatory,” he said with feigned innocence. “The subject of Lila may have come up.”

“Luka!” She shoved his arm gently, and then sighed. “I could almost feel sorry for her. She was never going to get ahead in the company, and I think she knew it.”

“She put glass in your shoes,” Luka said, and she shouldn’t have found that rumbling growl in his voice as sexy as she did. Distracted by that thought, it took her a moment to realise that he was watching her.

“Do you wish I hadn’t said anything?” he asked her, and she subjected that to some consideration.

“No, I think I’m glad you did. If she’s done things like that to me to get what she wants, she’ll do it again to someone else if she’s left unchecked,” Marinette said. They’d reached the entrance hall, and Luka held the door open for her. “That recording was only going to hold her back for so long.”

He took her hand again as they crossed the courtyard and passed under the huge and embellished stone archway, and steered her in the opposite direction when she started to turn towards the metro.

“How do you feel about dinner at Midi12 tonight?” She gave him a startled glance, and he shrugged self-consciously. “I finished my thesis today, and I feel like celebrating, and galette.”

Marinette stopped and flung her arms around him. “Luka! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I still have to edit a couple of things, and get my supervisor’s okay on it, but… it’ll be ready to hand to her when she gets back from Madrid in a few weeks. The research component’s all done.”

She glowed up at him. “We definitely need to celebrate.”

Palais Garnier loomed majestically behind them. The sky above the streets was still waiting for sunset, but the late afternoon air was starting to grow heavy and the golden light from the cafes and restaurants spilled over the grey slabs of concrete under their feet. It was starting to turn cooler, and the figures around them were hurrying a little now. Marinette leaned into Luka’s warmth, and he put an arm around her as they walked.

Marinette shot him a mischievous look. “You do know Papa does much better galette than Midi12?”

“Tom does better pastries than anyone,” Luka agreed, then his grin became a little wry. “I’d just kind of like you all to myself for a little while before we have to head home.”

“I like the sound of that.”

The umbrellas outside the Palais Garnier restaurant were furled behind the stone balustrade and hedge, but they could hear the distant clink of china and cutlery, and the soft hum of voices from the early patrons. Classical statues gazed down indifferently from their perches along the balustrade, and the huge iron streetlamps weren’t lit yet. They made dark, spiky silhouettes against the thick blue sky.

“So how did things go for you today?” Luka asked, running his thumb along the edge of her hand.

“Well, it wasn’t finished the thesis exciting, but Mme Marchand has me going through the costume archives right now, and I’ve been unpicking some of the old costumes to try and match fabrics. It’s fascinating, the way it was constructed. I’m learning so much, and so much of what I did when I was on stage makes a lot more sense now. She said she’ll take me to the fabric warehouses with her the next time she has to source something.” Luka grinned at the little skip of enthusiasm that she couldn’t suppress. “It’s going to be exhausting once my course gets underway, trying to juggle that and the residency program, but it’ll be worth it. I’ll get to work on the next season costumes – Adrien said his father’s sponsoring again, so they’re going to be stunning.”

Luka was watching her with a half-smile. “You saw Adrien?”

“I caught up with some of the company for lunch today, and Adrien was there.”

“How is he?”

Marinette giggled. “He’s started sneaking out to date the daughter of one of his father’s business associates, so he’s happy.”

“Sneaking out? Does his father disapprove or something?”

“I don’t think so,” Marinette said with a  shrug. “I think Adrien’s just developed a taste for sneaking around. He’s got a lot of years of rebellion to catch up on, apparently.”

Luka laughed. “You’re a bad influence, melody.”

“He’s heard a rumour that next season is going to be La Bayadère, and I love the costumes for that. The colours are just glorious, and I’m really looking forward to seeing what M. Agreste’s take on it is.”

“Any regrets that it won’t be you wearing those costumes?” he asked.

“Not really. No. I mean, I have the odd moment when I miss that feeling, but I’d much rather be making them than dancing in them.”

They turned away from the Palais Garnier in its opulent grandeur, an isolated island of magnificence, into the noisier streets where the rumble and honk of traffic was overlaid with voices and conversation and laughter. Buildings and shops crowded above Marinette and Luka as they strolled towards the crêperie, lost in their own world.

“So, no regrets?” he repeated quietly, and Marinette knew he was asking about more than just costumes. She couldn’t help laughing.

“I got away with the heist without going to prison, I got into a course that I’m loving for a career that I’m excited about, and Mme Marchand got me into a residency that most people in theatre design would kill for, even though I haven’t got my qualifications yet.”

She lifted her hand and brushed her fingertips along the line of his jaw, loving the feel of his breath on her palm as he leaned into her touch.

“And I get to go home with the man I adore,” she said softly. “No regrets. Not ever.”

There was something in the way that Luka was looking at her that brought a blush to her cheeks and left her heart stumbling in her chest.

“What are you thinking?”

He ducked his head until the blue tips of his hair shadowed his eyes, but she could see the soft smile curling the corners of his mouth.

“I can’t tell you, because you didn’t want me to get too far ahead of myself. Ask me again when you’ve finished your degree.”

Her eyes widened.

“Oh,” she said, a little breathlessly. “Oh. Okay.”

They walked a little further. Marinette glanced up at him.

“That’s a whole three years away,” she said pensively, and his eyes were back on her now. “Would you tell me if I asked when I’ve completed my residency?”

There was that quality of stillness in the way he was holding himself, as if he didn’t quite dare to believe what he thought he was hearing. “That’s... June. End of June.”

“Is that too soon?” she asked, and gave a faint squeak as Luka kissed her hard, and kissed her again, and again until they melted into softer kisses, heedless of the people passing by. Her hands came up to tangle in his hair, and his arms were around her, pulling her close while life moved on around them. Perhaps there were a few frowns, or a few indulgent smiles, thrown their way, but neither of them noticed.

“June, tomorrow, today, whenever you want,” he breathed when they finally came up for air, his voice a little husky. “I’m yours, melody.”

And Marinette pulled him down for another kiss, too happy to speak.

[jaskierswolf]

Yes Chef

My fic for the Novigrad Exchange! For the marvelous @ohnomybreadsticks

Ship: Calanthe/Eist Rating: E Summary: Restaurant AU with a healthy dose of smut? I don’t know. I’ll think of a better summary later 😂 AO3 link to come later on!

CW: 18+ smutty time, vaginal sex, oral sex, semi-public (they are alone but in a public setting),

The kitchen was sweltering, the chefs moving around the small space in an intricate dance that only they knew the steps to. The air was filled with a cacophony of smells; slowly roasted barbeque pulled-pork, fried onions and garlic, chocolate brownies. It all wafted around the kitchen in a mess, mouth watering and delicious. For Calanthe, there was nothing better than the hustle and bustle of a professional kitchen. She had been cooking since she was a child, her own grandmother had often let her help around the kitchen and Calanthe had been hooked. There was just something so addictive about creating masterpieces out of nothing. How could flour, butter, sugar become something entirely different? A cake, soft and melting in her mouth, flavours exploding on her tongue, almost better than sex… almost. 

The industry itself attracted Calanthe like a moth to a flame. It was undoubtedly a man’s world, and that pulled her in, the need to prove herself, a competitiveness that drove her forward in life. If there was one thing in love she truly loved, it was proving that the patriarchy was absolutely shit. Whenever there was an opportunity to prove that she was better than a man, she took it, and as she grew older she learned how to use that to her advantage. It didn’t take long for her to rise above her rivals. Her ingenuity and skill in the kitchen was unmatched, and she had a remarkable talent for ruling the roost. When she spoke, people listened. 

Opening her own restaurant had been a dream come true. 

The Jewel of Cintra. 

The cuisine wasn’t fancy but it was clever. She didn’t leave her customers hungry and wanting for more, but it was posh enough that she could charge a decent amount. It was also almost entirely locally sourced. That was the hook. Her restaurant supported local businesses, and she had crafted the menu using old traditional Cintran recipes. She was determined to preserve the Cintran way of life, especially with Nilfgaard slowly taking over the catering industry with their new wave recipes that blended old Southern style flavours with that favoured by the North, creating a brand new fusion.

Calanthe hated it. Cintra had a wealth of history and it was being wiped out.

It did keep her on her toes though, she had to constantly think up new ways to stay ahead, networking at conventions and collaborating with other local restaurants and breweries. It was draining but she thrived on it, and her head waiter, Jaskier, was an absolute blessing. He could charm any customer and handled complaints without even blinking an eye. 

So naturally she was furious when he’d handed in his resignation. The idiot had been snatched right under her nose. He’d gone and fallen in love with the head chef of Kaer Morhen, a gastro pub in Kaedwan, the pair had met at one of the conventions that Jaskier had gone to in her stead. Two months later, her best waiter had announced he was moving to Kaedwan to be closer to Geralt.

And Calanthe was left to replace him. 

The applicants had all been shit. No one could compare to Jaskier, lacking his charisma and easy going attitude. Those who might have stood a chance bristled at the idea of bowing to Calanthe, men who thought they could come into her restaurant and overthrow her. 

The misogynistic pricks.

Yes, the applicants had all been shit… until Eist Tuirseach. He was infuriatingly good, handsome, suave and seemed to already be completely head over heels with her. So, she’d reluctantly hired him. 

And she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. 

“Good morning, Chef!” Eist waved cheerily as she sauntered into the kitchen. He was helping Lambert wipe down the counters before service started. Her sous chef was a talented but prickly young man, and she trusted no one else to get her kitchen in order when she had her rare days off. He’d been trained under Vesemir from Kaer Morhen, but had been eager to escape Kaedwan. His boyfriend, Aiden was her pastry chef and, when they weren’t flirting up a storm in the kitchen, they were some of her most efficient workers. 

Calanthe felt herself blush as Eist winked at her. She blamed the heat of the kitchen. “It’s almost five in the afternoon, Eist,” she shot back. 

“Ah, but that is morning for a chef.” 

Calanthe scoffed. He wasn’t entirely wrong, she was a night owl, most chefs were, if they slept at all, but she’d also seen five in the morning more times than she would have liked. Delivery days were killer, and when they had parties and events most of the team were in the kitchen early for prep. 

“How are the books for tonight, Eist?” She grumbled, getting straight to business. It was easier that way. 

“Fully booked as always, Chef. Nilfgaard wishes they could have our numbers. No one else can compare to your skill and talent, not to mention your beauty,” he said with a caddish grin.

The same smile he’d used to charm her in his interview.

________

“Eist Tuirseach?” Calanthe asked as a handsome young man entered her office. He was well built, roguish in looks, and reminded her of a lost puppy. He smiled brightly at her as he took her hand, his grip strong and firm and for the briefest of moments Calanthe wondered what those hands would feel like caressing her body, rough callouses against her breasts. 

“Aye, that’s me. The Lady Calanthe?” Eist said, smirking as he cocked his head, making his tousled brown hair fall in front of his eyes. 

Her heart skipped a beat in her chest, and she felt a familiar warmth at her core.

Fuck.

Of course he had to be cute. He was the last applicant and she was really really hoping it would be another idiot so she could politely decline Jaskier’s request to leave before his notice was up. She wanted to keep the young waiter for as long as she could. 

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she lied. “I expect professionalism in my kitchen, and you will refer to me as Chef.” 

And this was the point where most of her applicants had turned tail and run. Eist, however, blushed instead, his tongue flicking out to lick his lips, and there was a definite hunger in his eyes. “Yes, Chef.”

Calanthe swallowed. “Good, now… I have some questions, and at the end if you have any questions for me, you’ll be given the opportunity. Unfortunately my sous chef got called away on a family matter, but if you’d like a second person here, we can rearrange the interview.”

Eist smiled even brighter, adoration and lust shining in his eyes. “No, I think we’ll be just fine, Chef.”

____________

The bastard hadn’t stopped charming her since, and it was taking all her self control not to let him ravish her in the kitchen. They danced around each other and flirted like there was no tomorrow but… well, she didn’t want to give in. She knew what it would look like; the head chef and the head waiter dating. No. She didn’t want to give anyone the opportunity to question her integrity, but after months of being around Eist, she felt weak. The way their fingers brushed whenever she passed a plate over, the easy banter that made her laugh even when she was in a terrible mood at the start of the day, the disappointment she’d felt when Eist had booked off a couple of weeks to visit his family in Skellige. 

The kitchen had felt empty without him. 

And she just wasn’t as good at dealing with complaints. Calanthe had a short temper, and when people complained, she couldn’t help but take it personally. She got defensive and fought back. 

She needed Eist. 

She hated Eist. 

… Or perhaps she loved him. 

“We have a party of eight booked in at half-seven. No known allergies, should be pretty straight forward, but I’ve briefed my team and let your’s know too” Eist hummed, picking up his clipboard. “Most of the other bookings are couples and smaller families.”

“Fuck,” Calanthe hissed. “I hate big groups.”

“I have no doubt that you will be flawless as always, Chef.”

“Getting the plates out in one go is a faff that I could live without,” Calanthe groaned. “Lambert!” She barked. 

Lambert looked up from his station, his hair slicked back and his sleeves rolled back to his arms, revealing an intricate tattoo sleeve that went down to his wrist on his right arm, wolves running through the woods. He strolled over to her, crossing his arms in front of his chest, hazel eyes alert and attentive. 

“Yes Chef?”

“You’re in charge of the party of eight, I want you working with Eist and his team. No fucking around with Aiden, understood?”

“Loud and clear, Chef,” Lambert nodded then smirked. “Can we fuck around after?”

Calanthe rolled her eyes, swatting him over the head with her palm. “Behave, wolf.”

“What?” he gaped, rubbing the back of his head. “You and Eist are worse than us, and you still claim you’re not together!” 

“We’re not together.”

“Not yet, at any rate,” Eist chuckled.

Calanthe shot daggers at her waiter. “Get out of my kitchen, Eist. Before I get you for harassment.”

Eist quirked an eyebrow. “Tell me to stop, Chef, and I will, but you have yet to tell me no. One word, Calanthe,” he paused, giving her a chance to admonish him for using her name whilst they were at work, but he said it so reverently that she was too stunned into silence. “One word and I’ll stop.”

No.

The word should have been easy. 

“Don’t,” she whispered, and his face fell, heartbroken, and she could already tell he wouldn’t argue. “Don’t stop.”

She felt her cheeks burn, and the eyes of their audience were piercing into her soul. So, she cleared her throat. “Right!” she snapped. “Back to work!”

The kitchen burst into life once again, giving her the privacy to wink at her waiter. “Later?” he mouthed at her, and she nodded. 

The dinner service went by in a blur. It was busy enough that she didn’t have to think about anything but the quality of the food her chefs were serving. She’d rolled up her sleeves and got stuck in, flitting about between stations and helping wherever she was needed, supervising and delegating the tasks, running a tight kitchen as she always did. However, that didn’t stop her from feeling a little giddy whenever Eist flew through the double doors, looking like some kind of Oxenfurt actor in his suit, the server’s apron strapped around his waist. 

Anticipation curled in her gut, the heat that crept along her skin was from more than just the ovens. There was a hunger in his eyes whenever he looked at her, and she wanted more. She wondered if his lips were as soft as they looked, whether his beard would scratch against her skin. 

It was all very distracting, but if anyone noticed, they didn’t say anything. 

By the time the kitchen was cleaned up, and she’d dismissed the last of her chefs, it was past midnight. Lambert waved her off with a lewd comment and jumped onto the back of Aiden’s motorcycle, the two of them speeding off along the road. 

“So,” Eist’s voice came from behind her as they stood in the doorway, watching the motorbike drive off into the distance, and Calanthe spun round in a start. “It’s just us.”

Calanthe smirked, her fingers wrapping around Eist’s tie and pulling him in for a kiss. The waiter groaned and went willingly, their lips melding together in a slow and languid kiss, noses bumping as they explored each other’s mouths. The heat crept along Calanthe’s skin, her heart fluttering in her chest. How had she denied this man for so long? She was already soaking, aching at her core with want, and soon, she grew impatient with the pace of the kiss. Nipping at Eist’s lip, she pushed their bodies together, forcing Eist back into the kitchen and towards the kitchen counter. Another day she would love to take this gorgeous man apart, fuck him over the worktops in her kitchen, but that would have to wait. 

She made a mental note to keep her strap in the back of her car. 

She had a very good feeling about Eist.

For now he seemed content to please her. He spun them around, helping her to wriggle out of her trousers and ruined underwear before hoisting her up onto the counter. She gasped into the kiss as his fingers teased her clit, slipping inside her wet cunt with little resistance. Calanthe’s head rolled back, her hands gripping the edge of the cold metal counter. The kitchen was quiet except for the sounds of their moans and his fingers pumping inside her. It was thrilling, everyone had gone home but there was always the off chance that someone would walk in on them. She moaned, rolling her hips to force his fingers deeper inside her. 

“Fuck me, you bastard,” she gasped.

Eist just winked. “Soon, Chef.” 

She expected him to finally unzip his trousers but Eist seemed to have other ideas. The waiter fell to his knees before her, pressing kisses along her inner thigh with a soft groan. Her hands threaded into his soft brown hair, guiding him towards her cunt. If he wasn’t going to fuck her then he’d better put that mouth to good use and she was tired of waiting. Eist’s stubble scratched wonderfully against her skin, a reminder of just how strong this man was, and yet he still knelt eagerly between her legs, as if there was nowhere else he’d rather be. 

“Fuck,” she moaned as Eist’s tongue flicked at her clit, fast and feather light and sinfully good. She thrust forward against his face and he groaned, one hand gripping at her thigh, the other joining his tongue between her wet folds. His fingers pressed inside her as he continued to lick and suck at her clit, moaning as he devoured his feast. 

Calanthe’s fingers stroked through Eist’s hair as he ate her out, hips rolling against his face. She felt like she was on fire, her skin so very sensitive and every lick of his tongue had her moaning, crying out in pleasure. 

“Stop,” she gasped before she could cum. 

Eist groaned but pulled back, staring up at her with dark eyes. His lips were wet and glistening, and he smirked as he wiped his mouth. “Chef?”

Calanthe raised an eyebrow, barely able to catch her breath. “If you don’t get your cock inside me now, there will be consequences.” The waiter closed his eyes and moaned, a visible shudder going through him at her words. With a quick tug on his tie, Eist was once again standing. “If you like eating me out so much-” she purred, “-maybe I’ll have to find something else to feed you with.”

“Calanthe,” Eist groaned. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“Why don’t you show me?” Calanthe challenged.

That seemed to finally spur the waiter into action and he met her lips in a messy kiss, the taste of her own slick on his tongue. She moaned into the kiss, desperate and wanton as he fumbled with the zip of his trousers. There was a telltale rip of foil but when he pushed inside her, fuck, it felt so good. She easily stretched around the girth of his cock but he just filled her so completely.

“I’m not going to last, Chef,” he gasped, lips never leaving her’s. 

She closed her eyes. That wouldn’t be a problem, she was already so close from all his teasing before. “Get on with it!” she snapped, rocking her hips forward to the edge of the counter. 

Every thrust made her cry out, obscene sounds filling her kitchen as they both chased their release. Eist panted as he left messy kisses on her neck, nipping and biting at the tender skin. Her orgasm hit her like fireworks as she clenched around his cock, sparks flying in front of her vision. She gasped wordlessly as he fucked her through the waves of pleasure that just seemed to keep coming. Calanthe swore, the pleasure beginning to wane and her body oversensitive. Eist grunted as he followed her over the edge, his thrusts becoming erratic and desperate. She caught his lips in a sloppy kiss, their breaths mingling as he slowly came back to his senses, slipping out of her with a groan.

She pressed her forehead against his as they panted breathlessly in the otherwise quiet kitchen. One hand gripped onto his shoulders while a leg was still hooked around his waist. There was a disgusting splat on the floor as the condom fell off. Calanthe tried to keep a straight face, she really did but Eist snorted and let out a hearty laugh, his fingers lacing with her’s on the countertop. Mirth bubbled up inside her, a ridiculous giggle escaping her lips as they both looked at the mess on the floor. Soon they were both laughing, hysterically and without any restraint, their post-orgasmic bliss making the whole thing seem utterly hilarious. 

“You’re cleaning that up, Eist.” 

He groaned, capturing her lips in another kiss with a muffled “Yes, Chef.” 

Calanthe rolled her eyes and cupped Eist’s face in her hands. “You can call me Calanthe outside of work, you fool,” she said with a smirk. 

And her partner seemed to melt under her touch. Eist’s face lit up in a dopey smile that made her heart skip a beat. He took her hand in his and bought her fingers up to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. “Yes… Calanthe.”

[rosemarypasta]

monday afternoons ♡ 10 (end)

➤  pairing : oikawa tooru x female reader (karasuno manager)

➤  chapter warnings : slowburn (?). teensy tiny manga spoiler that you probably won’t even notice

➤  summary : You just recently joined the Karasuno boy’s volleyball team as their first year manager. As you grow closer to your teammates, you also unexpectedly grow closer to one of their biggest rivals, Oikawa Tooru

➤ chapter word count: 1708

♡ masterpost ♡

-ˏˋ chapter tenˊˎ-

FRIDAY

5:48 PM

“All right everyone! Let’s start cleaning up!” Daichi announced after Coach Ukai finished wrapping up the day’s training session. You got up from the floor and did as you were told, grabbing the first crate of water bottles so you can clean them in the tap outside of the gym.

“Today is more peaceful than usual huh, Y/N-san?” Yamaguchi smiled, bending down to pick up the second crate of bottles, “Of course Noya-san and Tanaka-san was loud as ever but Hinata and Kageyama’s noisiness is just on a whole ‘nother level right?” He chuckled at his absent teammates. “Yeah.” You smiled back as you thought of the two first years who got held back by their teacher because they flopped in their test big time. Both you and Yamaguchi would kill to see the duo’s faces when Ono sensei told them that they would have to skip club activities and retake the test.

“But since Kageyama got held back, that would mean you would be going home alone again! Will you be okay? I’m sure Tsukki wouldn’t mind if you walked home with us!” He furrowed his brows, looking at you with concern. “I’ll be fine! Nothing happened yesterday anyway.” You lied through your teeth, recalling your memories of the third year Seijoh student waiting for you in front of the school gates. Though, you weren’t in any imminent danger so you comforted yourself with that thought as you lied to your friend.

The clean up session went by smoothly as usual and you said your goodbyes to your teammates to welcome the weekend. Yamaguchi was still concerned over you as you waved at him but thankfully Tsukishima dragged him off before he could ask you to walk home with him again.

The walk home was relaxingly quiet, only filled with the sound of your own footsteps and muffled car sounds from a distant street. You’ve been distracted the whole day as your brain kept replaying your encounter with Iwaizumi. And as if the world hasn't given you enough of your daily dose of Seijoh students, they decided to throw in another one different from last time.

Your feet stopped moving as the image of a brunette boy standing with his face down in front of your house. You couldn’t see his face and his hair was slightly different from usual but you knew who he was.

“What the fuck.” was all you managed to say as you stand steps away from the uninvited moping boy. As soon as the words left your mouth, the boy whipped his head up towards you, showing his dark circles even from afar.

“Y/N! I-” He started, about to run towards you but stopped last second as he saw your bewildered expressions on your face. You hated how seeing his hurt expression made you subconsciously feel bad for him. You weren’t supposed to feel any pity for him whatsoever but staying angry felt like the hardest thing to do in the moment.

Oikawa looked up towards you once again, his eyes slightly red, hesitating before speaking again. “Please let me explain. I know I’m supposed to do this ages ago but p-please.” His voice breaking towards the end.

You bit your lip as you let him continue.

“I was an idiot. I know I was. I took out my childish and petty anger towards Kageyama onto you because I’m such a selfish asshole.” He took a deep breath before continuing, “I don’t know how much you know but considering how you ghosted me, I guess you know the main idea. Yes, I did want to mess with you and pretend to be interested in you.”

Your breath hitched as all the thoughts in your mind were true. He had always been faking it and never found you remotely attractive. He only saw you as a toy to play with. You didn’t know who to be more mad at. Him or you for getting ahead of yourself and thinking you even had a chance with Oikawa.

“And I never meant to fall in love with you,” His voice was soft but was still plenty loud enough for you to hear.

“But I did.”

You cocked your head forward in shock. You stared at the boy in front of you without blinking, “I-I’m sorry, what?”

“I love you, Y/N.” His voice broke again. “I know what I’m saying is so unfair and so ridiculously insensitive but I’m telling the truth. I do love you.”

He took a deep breath as he fiddled with his fingers. His breath was shaky and his shoulders sagged low. “I only meant to go out with you a couple of times but time flies by so fast and I unconsciously kept asking you out because I wanted to see you so much. Being with you was so unexpectedly fun and you were just amazing to spend time with. I loved being with  you so much that every Monday afternoon I would sprint my way to the station so I could see you quicker. I would fall on my way sometimes but I didn’t care. I just wanted to see you.”

You were speechless. All you could do was stare at him with your mouth hanging wide open. You were feeling an array of emotions ranging from confusion and glee.

“So please, Y/N.” He cried out softly as he started to slowly walk over to you, “let me make it up to you.”

“Give me a chance to make it up to you.” He grasped your idle hands and brought it up to his face where you felt his hot cheeks and tears against your bare hands.

MONDAY 3:10 PM

“Eh? Brazil? That’s so far away!” Yamaguchi stared at the red haired boy with bewildered eyes.

“Yep! I guess I won’t be attending get-togethers in the future.” Hinata smiled.

Two and a half years have passed. The third years and second years have long graduated and left the club in the first year’s hands. You’ve gone through all highs and lows of high school with the other four boys.

Two and a half years ago, you wouldn’t think you could fall in love with a sport you can’t even play. No matter how hard the boys tried their best at coaching you, you still can’t manage to spike a ball without somehow hitting it out of bounds.

“You sure you don’t want to come with us instead and get ramen, Y/N?” Hinata pouted as the five of you were inching towards the school gates.

“I’m sorry guys, but I really have to pass.” You sighed though a soft smile was evident on your face. “And Hinata, don’t get too attached to me, a certain someone will get jealous.”

“Nah he wouldn’t get jealous, that’s ridicu-”

“I would tho.”

The four of you stopped in your tracks to turn towards the setter who evidently looked confused. “Wow, never thought the king would be the jealous type,” Tsukishima scoffed, “gross.”

“What! How could you get jealous over that! I’ve watched you walk Y/N home for three years now and I’ve never said anything!” The red head bickered, punching the setter playfully on the stomach.

“T-That’s because I’m a man!”

“Damn, Kageyama, did Nishinoya-san teach you that?” Yamaguchi laughed at the odd character the raven haired setter had adopted last second.

“Sorry guys, I gotta run.” You loved spending time with your teammates especially how they get to be their rowdy selves since they finally got away from their juniors after retiring from the club but you forced yourself to pull away just for the day as you caught a glimpse of the familiar man waving at you from outside of school grounds.

“Hmph, fine.” Hinata pouted, crossing his arms dramatically.

“Later.”

“See you tomorrow Y/N!”

“Bye.”

You waved back to all of them before turning at your heel to run towards the man up front. “I’m sorry, Hinata forgot his wallet so we had to wait for him.” You explained out of breath.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Oikawa hummed as he patted your head. “Should we go?” He smiled at you, opening the passenger seat of his door to which you smiled back and nodded at.

The rest of the boys watched as the car they were so used to seeing picking you up grew smaller and smaller in the horizon. Yamaguchi’s eyes wandered over to his blonde friend who looked more fixated at the car than the other two were.

“Tsukki? You okay?” The retired captain said softly over the background of the bickering middle blocker and setter.

“I’m fine.” Tsukishima sighed, a forced smile crept up his face.

6:49 PM

“Hey.” You called out.

“Hm?” Oikawa’s muffled voice replied.

“Remember how we first met?” You said absentmindedly as you scrolled through your phone. OIkawa’s head finally left the crook of your neck and his brilliant brown eyes met yours.

“I wish I could. I was such an idiot.” He muttered before diving under the covers of his bed. You sighed in satisfaction. You loved bringing that topic up because you knew how much he hated it and how he acts all flustered about it. It was truly one of the rare ways to see the different and vulnerable side of Oikawa you rarely get to see.

“But you’re my idiot.” You hummed, diving under the covers as well before showering his head with kisses.

“You’re cruel.” He pouted. Though it was dark under the covers, his perfectly soft lips still glistened. You leaned in to give him a soft peck, “But you love me”

Oikawa’s fingers traced your jawline before cupping your cheeks, bringing them closer towards him before giving you a long sweet kiss. The butterflies in your stomach went crazy as soon as your lips got in contact with his again. No matter how many times you’ve done it before, the butterflies never seem to disappear.

“I love you, Y/N.” He messily slurred out as he pulled out from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his.

“I love you too, Tooru.” You giggled before going in for another kiss on another fine Monday afternoon.

previous:  -ˏˋ chapter nine ˊˎ-

A/N:

Gah! It’s finally done! My first ever Haikyuu fic is completed :’)

I started to write the plot three months ago and I never knew it would get any attention what so ever lmao. And honestly, I don’t know how my first fic would be a reader x oikawa one cause I truly hated Oikawa’s guts three months ago but I guess that hatred translated a bit to the plot. (I don’t hate him anymore uwu he’s baybe to me now)

I even impulsively added a lil kagehina for some spice HAHAHA and um someone get a love interest for Tsukki ASAP!!!

But thank you so much for reading this! I never thought I would get so much support on this and I plan on making even more fics!

I’m sorry if there was more drama and minimal fluff with Oikawa :’) And sorry if you thought the ending was rushed but I tried my best and I’ll try even harder next time!

Though I plan on making more x reader content, I’ll probably release more ship ff (mainly tsukkiyama, kuroken & bokuaka maybe?) Since that’s what im more good at.

Thank you everyone and I hope to see you in my next project!

(also i haven’t proof read this cuz i’m sleep deprived rn and i have school tomorrow so forgive me for any mistakes)

tag list (let me know if you want to stay on my normal tag list):

@hey-there-demonss​​ @bumbledunce​​ @teasbees-knees​​ @angrylittlezizi​ @hvneymun​ @yeetabish​ @fandomlover-universe​ @air-wreckaa​ @siriiel​

[andorerso]

“Go ahead. Underestimate me. That’ll be fun.” for rebelcaptain, if you feel like it?

thanks for the prompt! here, have this quasi-medieval au with lady knight jyn. hope you enjoy :)

(cw: period-typical sexism - but not by cassian ofc)

All it took was one misstep. Jyn had been going to the courtyard to practice with the other guards for months, always careful to wear her helmet to keep her identity hidden. It would be shameful if the people found out Lord Erso’s daughter was amusing herself with such unladylike activities – no matter how much Jyn herself didn’t care, she knew she couldn’t embarrass her parents like that. It hadn’t been an issue so far. She went, she wore her helmet, she practiced, and she usually beat the other guards. But today –

There was someone new. A man Jyn hadn’t seen before, although she could only catch a quick glimpse of his face before his helmet was on and they were sparring. He wasn’t quite bad. Not as good as she was, but leagues better than most of the other fools here who barely made an effort. It was thanks to him and his unexpected jab that she tripped, losing her balance, her helmet cluttering to the floor.

Shit, Jyn thought as the courtyard fell silent. Now I’m in trouble. Mama, Papa, I’m sorry.

Her partner, the newcomer, took off his helmet too, staring at her in shock. A woman in a knight’s uniform, practicing swordplay with other men. It wasn’t a sight you saw every day – no doubt, he was scandalized. The others around them were now tittering amongst themselves, malicious laughter ringing out.

But the newcomer said nothing. It was one of the others, a tall man with greying hair who spoke up, his voice taunting.

“What are you doing here, wench? Have you lost your way to the kitchen?”

Jyn’s lips twitched into a nasty smirk as she turned her eyes on the speaker. She had beaten him four times that week. She wondered how red his face would go if he knew.

Some of the others laughed, and a second man answered.

“I’d be happy to help her find a way if she needs it.”

Something about the smug way he said it made Jyn’s blood boil. She stood up slowly, still clutching her sword as she walked closer.

“Or I could help you to your grave if you’d like.”

There was yet more laughter, and the second speaker smirked. Jyn was dimly aware of the newcomer she’d been sparring with watching them passively. He still hadn’t said a thing.

“You’re just a woman. What could you possibly do to hurt me?”

Go ahead, Jyn thought viciously, itching to teach this man a lesson. Underestimate me. That’ll be fun.

But as she opened her mouth to reply, someone else cut in.

“Wait a second, isn’t she the Lord’s daughter?”

A shocked murmur ran through the crowd as more and more of them recognized her now, nodding their heads. The man she’d been talking to looked at her wide-eyed, his face paling. She could almost see his life flashing behind his eyes as he hastily bowed to her.

“We’re very sorry, Lady Jyn, we didn’t recognize you. We meant no harm, didn’t mean to offend you.”

Jyn glowered but said nothing. It didn’t matter now. She could see that they were cowering in fear but she wasn’t satisfied with it. It was not her skills that frightened them, it was her title.

She gave them one last glare before she turned and stalked away. There went her afternoons spent practicing swordplay. She couldn’t come back after this.

She was so lost in her frustration that she almost didn’t notice her sparring partner following her.

“Lady Jyn?”

She wheeled around, glaring at the man in suspicion. What did he want now? Surely, if he had any scathing comments to say about her gender, he would have said them already before her name was revealed.

“What is it?” she hissed, not trusting the man one bit.

“Perhaps it isn’t my place to say but pay them no mind,” he told her, never breaking eye contact. He seemed sincere. His voice was gentle and smooth as silk. “You’re a great fighter. They would be lucky to be half as good as you.”

Jyn couldn’t say he was wrong but her face remained locked in a frown, unsure of his motives. Why would he tell her such a thing? What did he want? Before she could question him, he went on, his tone now tentative.

“Forgive me if I’m being too forward with such a request but… would you mind training me?”

Jyn certainly hadn’t expected that. Train him? Why would he want her, of all people, to train him? Surely, he was jesting – poking fun at the woman who dared to do what only a man could and pick up a sword.

She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t need you to make fun of me.”

The man shook his head, his face imploring.

“I mean it. I think you could teach me a thing or two. I’m rather good with a bow and arrow but swordplay I find more difficult. I could use a teacher. I know it isn’t my place to ask but none of the men back there had your strength or fortitude.”

He paused, searching her face before he tentatively added. “And perhaps I could teach you to use a bow and arrow if you so desired.”

Jyn hesitated. She wasn’t sure whether to trust it – could he really not care that she was a woman? Did he just want to be trained by the most skillful swordsman? And what reason would he have to lie?

She was the daughter of a lord; he’d have plenty of reasons. But, Jyn mused, this could be her only chance to practice swordplay from now on. And she would be careful. She could take care of herself.

Before she could convince herself otherwise, she nodded.

“Meet me at the stables tomorrow at noon. I’ll handle the rest.”

A small smile lit up his face and Jyn’s heart skipped a beat. Who was this man humble enough to be trained by a woman? Why did his smile make her feel warm all over?

She ignored the strange reactions of her body, clearing her throat as she took one menacing step closer.

“Keep quiet about it. I don’t want my father to find out.”

“As you wish, my lady.” He bowed his head before straightening to look at her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She nodded once and turned her back. Tomorrow. She was strangely looking forward to it.

[hopelikethemoon]

missing out (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: missing out  Rating: PG-13 Length: 2.5k Warnings: Angst.  Notes: A little Javi POV set shortly before used to be lonely. You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here.  Summary: Javier returns after three days in the field. 

Taglist:  @grapemama​​​  @seawhisperer​​​ @huliabitch​​​ @pedropascalito​​​ @rogrsnbarnes​​​@thewallpapergoesorido​​​ @twomoonstwosuns​​​ @gooddaykate​​​ @livasaurasrex​ @ham4arrow​​@hiscyarika​​​ @plexflexico​​​ @readsalot73​​​ @hdlynn​​​ @lokiaddicted​​ @randomness501​​​@fioccodineveautunnale​​​​ @roxypeanut​​ @just-add-butter​​ @snivellusim​

Javier barely knew which way was up as he made his way into the embassy. Three days out in the field in Bucaramanga and all he’d gotten in return was three sleepless nights and a headache. It was a fruitless endeavor riddled with dead ends and he’d ended up pissed off that he’d been assigned it at all.

Six months ago it would’ve been fun. Him, Steve, her. It almost felt like she was with him this time around because he couldn’t stop thinking about her. About the future. About their baby.  

He was terrified. Of being a father, of being a partner, of being a man worthy of either. 

Of walking into work one day to be met with an empty desk, a somber voicemail, broken promises. She didn’t owe him a damn thing. He knew that. He beat himself up over it. She had every right to get on a plane and leave. If she tried hard enough, she could make it impossible for him to find her again. 

Javier’s heart skipped a beat as he spotted her walking off the elevator. “Hey!”

“Hey.” She smiled a little. “Just getting in?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Where are you headed?”

“I have a doctor’s appointment.”

“Oh.” Javier swallowed thickly. “Well, uh… good luck?”

She bit down on her bottom lip, tilting her head towards the elevator. “I forgot something at my desk if you want to ride up with me.”

“That would be great.” He answered, trying to temper his excitement. Life had tempered it enough, but he tried to enjoy every moment he got alone with her.

They waited side-by-side for the elevator to return, patiently waiting for it to clear out before they were alone inside it. 

“I should be finding out the gender today.” She told him, shifting anxiously as she leaned back against the wall. “Do you… do you want to know?”

Javier tried to mask his emotions. Goddamn, he wanted to be there. Weren’t fathers supposed to be there for that? But he wasn’t — not really. He was the father only when they were alone, within the safety of elevators or apartments.  

“I’d love to know, baby.” He breathed out, hesitantly resting his hand on the soft curve of her belly. She seemed bigger already — the swell more noticeable than he recalled before he’d left. Even in three days he’d missed things. “How have you been?”

“Good.” She rested her hand over his and tilted her face towards him. “I missed you.”

“Me too.” He whispered, leaning down to steal a too-brief kiss. It was still all so new. Being intimate with someone on a long term basis. To grow comfortable with another person like this. 

Just another change in his life. Her bed had become as much his own as the one he’d all but abandoned. 

“Can I…” He pulled away swiftly when the elevator dinged, one of the agents from the floor beneath them joining them on the elevator. 

“Yeah, Peña. Sounds like a plan.” She remarked, answering the question she knew well. 

Javier stared straight ahead at the elevator doors, glaring at the back of the agent’s head. He glanced sideways, risking it all to grab at her hand.

She shot him a look, but she still squeezed back. 

He loved her. 

With each passing day it became more apparent to him. Maybe he wasn’t ready to say it yet — but he knew. Fuck, he knew it. He’d never felt it before her. Not even back in the day when he’d almost gotten married. 

She was all he thought about. All he saw for himself. He missed her the second she was gone and looked forward to the next moment they got alone. That wasn’t who Javier Peña used to be. 

With her constantly on his mind, he didn’t feel that dreadful sense of loneliness anymore. 

When was the last time he’d slept beside someone just to sleep beside them? Had that ever happened before her? 

Sometimes he wished he could call Steve. To prove to him that he did have a heart — one that was capable of loving someone. But he couldn’t. There was no one for him to call and bitch about being robbed of the chance to see his own baby’s sonogram. In that regard, he was still alone.

 ——

 Javier ended up calling it an early day and headed home to catch some much needed shut-eye. So much so that it was late in the evening when hunger woke him up. He rolled over and stared at the clock by his bedside table, his heart clenching when he realised just how late it was.  

He grabbed the phone off the table, hastily dialing her number before he pressed the receiver to his ear. Please pick up. Please pick up. 

On the fourth ring she answered. 

“Hello?”

“Shit. I woke you up. Baby, I’m so sorry.”

“I fell asleep on the sofa. It’s fine, Javi.” She assured him with a stifled yawn. “Your bags had bags this afternoon. I’m not surprised.”

“But I promised you.”

“It’s okay.” She sighed heavily. “Do you feel better?”

“No, I feel like shit because I didn't wake up.” Javier dragged his hand over his face and sank back against his pillows. “What did the doctor say?”

“I’ll come over.” She offered and Javier could hear her moving around on the other side of the line. “I’m still dressed. I can be over in ten.”

“Baby—“

“I’ll be over in ten.”

The call went dead and Javier placed it back in the cradle. 

He dragged himself out of bed, pulling on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt. Somehow finding out the gender of your baby while shirtless and in boxers seemed like a bleak alternative. 

She hadn’t actually been over to his apartment since their relationship started. Or whatever it was. There were no labels involved with this thing they were trying. The thing that had him in knots daily because he was waiting for the other shoe to fall.

He couldn’t blame her. He knew how he was. He’d cut and run too. 

She arrived promptly ten minutes after their phone call ended. Still wearing her work clothes. He was so used to seeing her in the evenings in nothing but sleep shorts and tank tops.

“Hope you didn’t clean up just for me.” She quipped, her eyes flickering towards the empty beer bottles stacked on his coffee table. “I thought you kept things neat for when you entertained.”

Javier huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “I haven’t entertained here since… you.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “What about the hooker you told Tom about?”

His throat went dry. “Her place.” If he could go back in time and take that back he would. He’d felt like shit that entire night. It wasn’t her. There was no one like her.

“Ah.” She nodded her head slowly, her gaze still sweeping over his apartment, but her shoulders relaxed a little. “You’ve still got bags under your eyes.” She pointed out, closing the distance between them. “And you need to shave.”

“Not into a little scruff?” He questioned, rubbing at his jaw. “Tomorrow. Promise.”

She smirked. “Atleast I like your mustache.”

He reached out and rested his hand on her hip, rubbing soft circles there with his fingers. Javier slowly leaned down and kissed her, masking a smile against her mouth as her fingers curled around the back of his neck. 

She drew back from the kiss slowly, stroking her fingers down the back of his neck. “Do you want to see the sonogram?”

“Yes.” Javier breathed out, answering far too quickly. “Did you find out what we— you’re having?”

She reached into her jacket pocket and produced a small rectangular image. “Do you want to guess what we’re having?”

The image trembled as he held it, his fingers shaking a little as he focused on the image. It was one thing to know that she was pregnant, that the curve of her stomach was a child, but it was another thing to see them. A little button nose, ten fingers, two legs. Something they made together.

Javier took a few steps backward, sinking down onto the sofa as he stared at the image. He’d done that. He’d help make that. Something so tiny, fragile, and perfect.

“Is it… is it a girl?”

She bit down on her bottom lip and grinned, “It’s a girl! We’re having a girl.”

Javier laughed breathlessly, looking up at her. “We’re having a girl!” 

She sat down on the sofa beside him, her leg pressed close to his as she pointed at the photo. “Look at her. Look at that little face.” She looped her arm through his, resting her cheek against his shoulder. “She’s perfect.” 

“Can I… Can I keep this?”

“It was for the father.” She ran her hand over his forearm, turning her head to press a kiss to his shoulder. “I’m sorry you couldn’t be there to hear her little heartbeat.” 

The words stuck in the back of his throat. He would’ve given anything to be there. To see their baby girl moving around. To hear her heartbeat. But that wasn’t something he could have. And that was a bitter pill to swallow. 

Javier shifted so he could wrap his arm around her, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “I’ll be right back, baby.” He whispered, before he moved off the sofa to go put the sonogram picture in a safe place. That single image would get him through the next few months. 

That was his baby. 

He wandered back out into the living room, his eyes drawn to where she stood in his kitchen, looking through his refrigerator. “Can I help you?”

“Do you live on beer when you’re not with me?”

He grimaced and shrugged. “I make a mean grilled cheese.”

“Your cheese could walk out of this apartment.” She shut the fridge slowly, turning around to face him with a look in her eyes that caught his attention. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m not craving food right now.”

“And what are you craving?” He arched a brow as she moved towards him. 

“You.” She breathed out, running her hand up his chest, fingers trailing along the column of his throat. “The doctor said it’s perfectly safe.” 

“Well, if the doctor says it’s safe...” He smirked, leaning down to kiss her. “Anything I should be worried about, baby?” Despite the amount of times he’d ended up in her bed of the last few weeks, most of his time had been spent trying to soothe her through discomfort and nausea. 

“Do not touch my breasts.” She warned him sternly, brushing her thumb along the hollow of his throat. 

“Noted.” He nodded, winding his arms around her. “Anything else?”

“I haven’t… not since.” She gestured around the apartment. 

Javier brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, before he skimmed his knuckles over her cheek. “I’ll go easy on you.” He teased lightly, leaning in to kiss her. He let his mouth slant over hers, his tongue sweeping out to find hers. 

She curled her hand around the back of his neck, dragging her fingers through his hair. Her other hand snaked its way down between them, palming him through his trousers. 

“Where?” He breathed out, his voice a little rougher as he tried to ignore just how good her hand felt teasing him. 

“Bed?” She suggested. “I have a couple really good memories from that bed. Maybe we could add a few more to it.” She said, smirking up at him. 

Javier stiffened. The memories of the night had been great, but the morning after… the days after. How many times had he laid in that bed and wondered what he did wrong? How he misread the connection between them. How many nights did he wonder what he could’ve done to keep her in his bed long enough to wake up beside her. 

His grip tightened on her, “Don’t leave.”

“What?” Her smile faltered. 

“This time.” Javier ran his hand along her side. “Don’t leave me.”

“I don’t have any clothes here.”

“Then wake up early.” His voice wavered. “Or just tell me…”

She frowned a little, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I won’t leave.” She promised, “This isn’t like before, Javi.”

“I know baby, but…” He released his hold on her and took a step back, dragging his hands over his face. He couldn’t. The moment had slipped between their fingers. 

“Maybe we should just sleep.” She suggested quietly. “Do you have something I could wear?”

“Yeah.” He nodded and held out his hand for her. “C’mere.” She curled her fingers around his and he led her into his bedroom. The last she had been there, things had been different. 

That night already felt like a lifetime ago. 

“I’m sorry.” She whispered as she nestled into his bed and he curled around behind her. 

“Don’t.” He pressed his lips to the back of her neck, sliding his hand beneath the hem of the shirt she wore. His tee short hung loosely on her, dwarfing her — just like the boxer shorts she’d had to roll up at her hips to make them fit. 

There was something he liked about her wearing his clothes. She’d pulled on a couple of his buttons up at her own apartment. But there was something about her laying in his bed, dressed in his clothes, that sparked something deep within him.

Beyond these walls he had no claim to her. Out there she was just his co-worker. But within the safety of his bed, she was his. All his. Draped in his clothes, curled close to him, drowsy in his arms. 

Javier’s fingers spread out across the swell of her stomach. “You’ve grown since I left.” He whispered, pressing his face into the crook of her neck as he smoothed his hand over her skin. 

“Don’t remind me.” She huffed quietly, leaning back against him. “I’ll probably grow out of my trousers by the end of next week. And let me tell you, they don’t have the best line of maternity clothes here Bogotá.”

He chuckled, tracing his fingers over the curve. “Our little girl is growing.” He whispered, a smile spreading over his lips as she rested her hand over his. 

She turned a little in his arms so she could kiss the underside of his jaw. “I wish you could’ve been there to see her.” She squeezed the back of his hand. 

Javier nodded his head slowly, rather than putting words to the ache in his chest. There was so much he was missing out on. So many little things he had never known he wanted. But he would take what he could get from her. He was in no position to ask for more. 

The last time he’d held her in his arms in this bed, he hadn’t held on tight enough. She’d slipped away at the first glimpse of dappled light. He hadn’t known that one night would change their lives forever. If he had, he would’ve told her then. He wouldn’t have let her go. 

[kakashi-tsukuyomi]

Venus

A/N: I made this as a gift for @sparkleswritings for a Secret Santa event in a Discord server I’m part of, @konoblog-simps . I had so much fun writing this! I took into account some things she likes/dislikes and incorporated them in this one-shot story. This was also the first time I wrote for Gaara. It was pretty challenging but definitely fun.

Pairing: Gaara x My friend; Modern-day AU Warnings: None. Just pure fluff ahead

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

Dusk fell, and the glow of the lights coming from the coffee shops lining on each side illuminated the street on a Saturday evening. Sidewalks were filled with people enjoying the weekend calm, grateful for the respite it brought after a week of toil as they catched up with friends and loved ones over a cup or two of coffee. It certainly was the case for Kira and her friends earlier that afternoon. Exams had just finished the day before, and what better way to celebrate their freedom than to spend the next day hanging out in their favorite café, discussing their favorite stories over cups of hot tea. They enjoyed each other's company so much that they did not realize that their afternoon rendezvous stretched towards the evening. After saying their goodbyes to each other and a few well wishes for the coming holidays, they left the café and parted ways. 

Kira walked down the sidewalk, taking in the sights around her as she listened to Sleeping at Last playing on her phone. The sky was now getting blacker than a few minutes ago, and the lights shone brighter and prettier in the dark. She had always loved evenings better than any part of the day, and this evening of solitude surrounded by the beautiful sight of nightlife, with the evening breeze caressing her face, was no exception for her. She had decided she wanted to stay and enjoy a little bit of it more, and so instead of going straight home, she continued walking and wandered around the shops nearby.

After a while, she stopped by her favorite bookstore along the way. As she entered the shop, the song "Venus" started playing on her phone, and she pressed her earphones closer to her ears to listen to it. She hummed to the song as she wandered towards the "New Selections" aisle, browsing the shelves for promising titles. When none caught her interest, she gave up and wandered towards the other parts of the shop. The bookstore had two levels, and after having visited all of the aisles on the ground floor, she rode the escalator, bringing her to the second floor. She got off the escalator and walked towards the shelves in front of her. She reached the Hobbies Section, casually browsing the books on display, and when she reached the Gardening Section, something interesting caught her eye.

It was a figure of a young man of about her age, standing a few yards before her in front of a shelf full of different books on succulents. He had short, spiky auburn hair, and he had a fair complexion. His frame was slender, his height not too tall, and he was wearing a maroon long-sleeved shirt on top of jeans and sneakers, which fit his frame perfectly. From where she was standing, she could only see half of the features of the young man. Although even with this limited view, she could tell that the guy looked cute.

The young man was holding a book in each hand, glancing from one book to the other. His forehead creased as he stared intently on one book as if to scrutinize it before switching to the other, and then back again. He let out a small exasperated sigh as if in defeat, and when he looked up from the two books, he noticed Kira's presence and turned to look at her. Kira felt her breath hitched and she panicked internally, quickly averting her gaze and turning to leave.

"Wait!" The young man called out. "I, uhh… ummm…"

Kira silently debated whether she should turn around and face him or just ignore him. She just wasn't used to situations like this. Normally shy, she wasn't the type of person to strike up a conversation with a stranger out of the blue.

"Excuse me, but, umm…" The young man hesitated as if choosing his words carefully. "I, uhh… wonder if you could give me some help, please?"

He seemed to be as embarrassed as Kira was at that time as he looked down, avoiding her gaze as he asked her. She felt a little bit sorry for the guy and was almost tempted to give in, but her shyness still held her firmly in her place. After a few seconds of awkward silence, the boy backpedaled and apologized to her. "F-forgive me, " he stuttered, "I shouldn't have bothered you."

Pity and guilt took hold of Kira as she watched the young man retreat from her, still clutching the two books in both hands. A silent resolve took place in her heart, and she thought that maybe if she could be bold today, it wouldn't hurt to try. After all, the boy did seem helpless.

"S-sure, I can help you. What is it?"

The young man's eyes suddenly perked up, and he turned to her, bringing the two books to her. "Ahh, thank you. I'm looking for a good book on taking care of succulents. I just started growing succulents, and I don't know which of these books is better." He stopped in front of her, holding out both of his hands to show her the books, and as she removed her earphones from her ears, she leaned forward for a closer look. Up close, she could properly see the boy's face. He had green eyes, and the edges of his lids were outlined with black ink. She noted he had no eyebrows, and had an unusual tattoo marked on the left side of his forehead. Though these features seemed strange compared to the usual standards of male beauty, they worked quite well on him, and Kira thought he was actually quite attractive.

Upon inspecting the titles, she immediately recognized them, and with ease and a bit of excitement, explained to the boy what each book was about. She pointed to the book on his left hand, "This one has useful information on planting succulents -- plus I like the visuals -- although, I think it lacks the explanation and tips a first-time succulent enthusiast should know." She pointed to the other one, "As for this one, I like this better because it has more information, plus I like how simple yet organized that information is laid out. It's very easy for a beginner to understand. I recommend this one."

The young man's eyes lit up once more, and he looked at her with a quiet awe. "Wow, I'm amazed how easily you picked one over the other. I assume you've already read both books and that you're into succulents, as well. You seem to be really knowledgeable on it."

Kira raised both of her hands in front of her, smiling sheepishly, "Ahh! No, not really… it's just that I had a lot of them growing up. Although, I don't really have them anymore…" The young man smiled at her, and Kira noticed how kind and gentle his face looked. She felt her heart skip a beat.

"But because of your knowledge, you certainly were able help me. I can't thank you enough, Miss… umm…" He scratched the small part of his cheek with his finger. "Forgive me, I didn't get your name."

"It's Kira!" She blurted out too eagerly, but then caught herself afterwards, a tint of pink coloring her cheeks. The young man had noticed but didn't say anything and smiled in return as he held out his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Kira. My name's Gaara."

Kira stared at the hand outstretched towards her and slowly took it. Her hand slipped into his, and it fit comfortably. His hand was a bit rough yet warm, she noted, and he shook her hand slowly, his grasp firm yet gentle at the same time. She liked how his hand felt against hers, familiar and safe, and when the movement stopped, his hand lingered on hers for a while. She felt her heart sink when he finally let go. 

"Well, umm… it was really nice meeting you, Kira. Thank you again for your help," Gaara smiled softly to her.

"Yeah, it was nice meeting you, too, Gaara!" Kira smiled back, and then muttered, "Umm, well, uhhh… I guess I gotta go…"

Gaara watched her as she turned her back from him and started to walk away. What a kind and gentle soul, he thought. He watched her as her dark hair swayed along with her every move, and he noted how pretty she looked in her pastel green blouse, complimenting her skin tone. He felt a foreign tug in his heartstrings as he saw her walk farther from him, and before he knew it, he was already calling out to her.

"Kira -- wait!" Upon hearing him call out her name, Kira didn't hesitate and immediately turned around to face him. "Y-Yes?"

Gaara immediately approached her and stopped two feet away from her. "W-well, umm…" he stuttered, "You see, I, umm, signed up for a free succulent workshop tomorrow downstairs. I, uhh... it's my first time to join and I don't know anyone there. P-perhaps... you would like to join me?"

Kira's eyes widened, not quite sure if what she was hearing was true.  

"Then uhh…," he continued, "Maybe, afterwards, we can talk about it over tea. I mean, well, I could really use your help. But that is, of course, if you're fine with it!" He seemed flustered as he said this, scratching the side of his cheek again with his finger.

Kira felt her heart warm up as a grin formed itself on her lips. This boy had just asked her out, and though she really couldn't believe it at first, she knew what she was going to answer him, anyway.

Her eyes lit up, and she smiled at him sweetly, her heart full of excitement and joy.

"Of course," she beamed. "I would love to."

 The night sky once ruled my imagination Now I turn the dials with careful calculation After a while, I thought I'd never find you I convinced myself that I would never find you When suddenly I saw you

-“Venus”, Sleeping At Last

[loudsuitlover]

Doctor Harry II

HARRY’S POV

I can almost see Mario’s nerves over his shoulders as he stands in front of Doctor Rowing in the waiting line of the cafeteria. I would laugh at him if I hadn’t been there before. I still remember how it felt like to be a first year doctor and having no idea of what you’re doing and feeling as if everyone is judging you or reviewing every little thing you do. I’m lucky I had Danny and that’s what I’m trying to be to Mario too. If we didn’t have one another we’d probably be fucked. 

Mario finally makes it to the table with three cups of coffee on a tray at the same time Danny walks inside the cafeteria. I feel my heartbeat fastening when I see Sorry walking next to him. He laughs at something she says and I see her smiling carefree. I can’t help feeling a little jealous of him, but not in a posesive way, I would just like to be him in that moment or in every moment he’s close to her. He raises his eyebrows as a greeting to us and Sorry’s eyes follow his until she smiles at us. I like to think she smiled at me more than she smiled at Mario. 

“I’ll email Ethan the notes this afternoon. Tops tomorrow morning. And I’ll bring you the book. And you know where my office is, any doubt just come over.” Danny’s smiling when he turns around and join us. 

“You’re really committed with teaching.” Mario notices. 

Danny just shakes his head and keeps smiling. 

“I quite like it to be honest and they’re really great students.” 

“You give them the notes?” Mario asks. “I wish my teacher had given me the notes too.” He laughs.

“That’s exactly why I give them the notes. They have time enough to actually read them before class so they can ask questions and it’s a lot more interesting. Plus it helps me prepare the lessons too.” He shrugs. 

Sorry is sitting with her friends on a table on the far corner of the cafeteria. I recognize all of them even though I’ve only supervised practised of two, Jason and Marie, but I know the other girl is called Olivia because Sorry has told me about her. She’s better at pretending she doesn’t mind my presence than I am but our eyes meet  when she glances at me too. 

“I can take a picture of her during lectures if you want.” Danny teases me and I roll my eyes. 

“I can take a picture of her too.” I shrug. 

“You’re not denying you like her.” 

“You didn’t say I liked her.” I take my eyes off her and look at my friend’s face for the first time since Sorry sat there. “But what if I do? I won’t do anything.” 

“Why not?” 

I look at him as if he has grown a third eye and I feel my eyes bulging out of my face. I know I must look like a mad man because both Mario and him laugh out loud.

“What?” He shrugs. 

“She’s... What do you mean why? Have you ever had a thing with a student?” 

“No, of course not.” Now it’s his eyes that bulge. “But it’s not the same. I’m their professor.” 

“Well I’m her teacher when she has practice with me at the hospital.” My eyes almost involuntarily search for her again. “Or at least that’s how she sees me.” 

I think of all the different times I’ve failed at keeping it professional between us. I’ve flirted with her way too many times for her not to have noticed but the worst part, or maybe the best, is that she plays along. I melt every time she flirts back because no matter how many times she does it I never expect it. I remember the first couple of days with her when she was all nervous and shy and she would blush even when she asked me stuff about Medicine but then I remember when Peter made fun of me in front of her and then she made fun of me herself after he was gone. I would have fucked her right there and then. 

I don’t really know what it is about her though. I mean she’s obviously gorgeous, but I’ve seen a lot of gorgeous girls and I’ve never felt this animalistic desire of devouring them but I think the fact that in my head is somewhat wrong makes it all the more exciting. Other than beautiful, she’s also incredibly sexy. The way her voice sounds even behind the surgical mask and the way she moves and her skin and her scent. Man, I’d kill to be embroiled on that scent forever. To have her legs around my face, her inner thighs against my cheeks as I devour her and she lets me.  

“I didn’t mean for you to ask her out right now.” Danny’s voice takes me out of my daydream and thank God because otherwise I would have probably get so horny it would have been embarrassing. “But they only have three weeks of practice on Anesthesia and she’s already done two, hasn’t she?” 

“Why do you know that so well?” I don’t know why I got defensive but Danny finds it funny. “Do you know every student’s schedule?” 

“No,” he chuckles “but I’m a human, some students I like better than others. That group is funny.” He smiles. “I’d even like to go out with them sometime.” 

“Mate, since you broke up with Cristina you’re unleashed.” Mario laughs and I join him. 

Danny laughs too and shrugs before he speaks. 

“They’re funny, that’s all I’m saying.” 

I see Peter and his friend Richard walking inside the cafeteria and he stands next to Sorry’s table as he waits at the bar. He says something to her and she chuckles. I find myself smiling. Man, I’m a sucker. 

Peter walks towards our table and places a hand on Danny’s shoulder. 

“How’s fourth year this year?” 

“Good.” Danny nods. 

“Okay so here’s the thing.” He looks at me and Mario then. “Doctor Mats asked me to prepare a seminar about the permeability of airway so I’ve thought instead of just talking and doing something theoretical and boring we could take the simulators, you know the dummies, and we could do Emergency airway, surgery airway and ambulance airway. We could divide the class in three groups and do a simultaneous practice so Harry you could explain emergency, Mario you could do surgery and I could do ambulance. What do you think?” 

INDIE’S POV 

I swear to God if Olivia doesn’t stop glancing at Harry I’m going to tear her head off. I thank God every day that she didn’t have practice with him because I’m sure she would have told him something or worse, flirt with him. Granted, I like to think I’m special and that he only has that playful attitude with me, but I’m not an idiot and I know that’s probably not true. He’s a Greek god and he’s funny and smart and confident. I bet every woman on this hospital would be more than happy to have a fling with him and he probably plays along. It’s clear to me he does like flirting. 

“It’s crazy how he’s staring at you.” Olivia chuckles. “I’m so jealous, having a fling with a clinical tutor is one of my fantasies.” 

Then again Olivia has fantasies with a lot of things. I snort a chuckle and try to get back at J’s and Marie’s conversation but after Ollie’s comment is a little harder because I can feel his eyes on me. 

“Anyway Mark is really nice, I think you’d like him.�� 

Marie grimaces. It’s so funny to me that she’s so picky with man. Jason’s eyes bulge. 

“What? Do you not like him? He’s hot. Indie, look.” 

He hands me his phone with said Mark’s instagram opened and I scroll through his pictures. He has some pictures with a husky dog and some other pictures doing snowboard or surfing. He’s sportive and fit and his face looks cute too with curly dark hair and a gentle smile. 

“He seems cute.” I smile at Marie. 

“No, he really does. It’s just not him. It’s...” She sighs. “I mean I’ve gone out with half the football team already, I don’t wanna get a name.” 

Jason rolls his eyes. 

“They’re dying to go out with my friends. Since they think I’m the only gay on the team, they’re always asking me to bring hot friends.” 

I laugh at the way he says “they think I’m the only gay” because that’s they think about J, he thinks straight people are just “unaware bisexuals”, his words not mine. 

“And anyway Olivia’s already slept with the other half and they’ve never said a word about her.”

“They haven’t?” 

I laugh at the way she seems to be offended. She probably is but then she looks at me and laughs too. Marie joins us. 

“Anyway what happened with Mason? I thought you liked him.” 

“I did but I didn’t invite him to come in because I didn’t want to sleep with him on the first date and he hasn’t called me since.” 

I place my hand over hers. 

“Why do you make such a big deal out of sex?” Olivia rolls her eyes. 

She can be so raw sometimes. 

“Well not all of us wear such wide undies, Ollie.” Marie raises her eyebrows at her and she smiles. 

“That’s when I wear undies.” She winks. 

Both of them chuckle and I shake my head at my friends. I’m so happy that we all manage to fit so perfectly together even when we’re so different. Jason stands up from his chair and looks at us three with a questioning look. 

“Are we all skipping Pediatrics?” He asks. “I thought it was mandatory.” 

We all laugh at his desperate attempt to skip class as per usual. 

“It is mandatory.” Olivia says, wrapping her arm around his shoulders and walking out. “Indie, today’s your turn to pay.” 

“I know.” 

Both Olivia and Jason walk ahead of us claiming they’re gonna get us good seats but knowing them I know they mean seats at the back and Marie walks with me to the register so I can pay for their coffee and my tea. 

“Why is it so hard to find a guy that takes his time?” I know she isn’t waiting for an answer. “I mean someone who’s not just interested in sex. You know going on a date to the movies or having dinner somewhere nice and then kissing goodnight at the front door and wait for the next? Getting flowers for no better reason than just wanting to make you feel special...” 

“I mean you can always go find a guy at a nursing home.” I joke. 

She rolls her eyes but ends up smiling and we both chuckle. 

“Sorry, I’ve seen slower people” Harry says behind us “after propofol.” 

I turn my head and smile at him and he chuckles. 

“We have double session today.” He adds. “I’m gonna end up fed up with you.” He raises his eyebrows. “I don’t earn enough for this many hours of Sorry.” 

I smile. 

“What do you mean double session?” 

“I’m presenting a seminar at 1 pm today and then you have practice, don’t you?” 

“Well I can do practice with someone else if you’re so tired of me.” 

“Don’t.” He smirks. 

I chuckle as both Marie and I leave the cafeteria and walk towards the lectures hall. I see her turning her head around and roll my eyes even before she speaks. 

“That’s what I’m talking about.” 

I spend the entire Pediatrics lecture biting on my nails, completely unable to pay attention, so for once I’m glad Ollie and JJ are so careless and always sit at the back. I just can’t take the thought of Harry presenting a seminar off my mind. I don’t know why I imagine him wearing a suit like some CEO when I know he’s gonna wear his hospital uniform, which don’t take me wrong, fits him like a glove and makes him so fucking sexy but somehow the thought of him wearing something else is exciting to me, probably because I’ve never seen him on anything different.

Even though we’re all sitting next to one another, our group chat “The Golden Girls” is on fire since none of us seems to be paying attention to the Pediatric lesson in front of us. 

Jason: What do you mean Harry is presenting the seminar?

Ollie: That’s not even important, JJ. I mean that don’t? As if don’t take practice with anyone else bc he wants you to be with him? I mean I’m wet. 

Jason: When are you dry? That’s the real question. 

Marie: The way she looks at you too... Be careful Indie. 

Ollie: What do you mean be careful? Do not be careful. Fuck him senseless. 

Jason: If you don’t I will. 

Ollie: No, I will. He’s straight. 

Jason: So you say. 

As soon as the lecture finishes the four of us get up and make our way to the door while the people who actually pay attention ask questions. Those heroes... Peter, Mario and Harry are casually chatting outside the classroom with huge black plastic bags and three dummies. Marie smiles excitedly and pries on the tools they brought making them laugh. I see Harry smiling at me and my belly erupts as every time he does. 

Peter walks inside the classroom and explains us what we’re going to do while Mario and Harry seem to set different workstations. Jason, Marie, Ollie and I join one of the three groups and start at Peter’s station with surgical airway. He teaches us how to intubate the dummy and we take turns in doing so, eventually ventilating and watching whether it’s the lungs or the belly that inflates. Jason gets it wrong four times and naturally the three of us mess with him. 

“Jason’s patien is still farting.” Peter joins our joking and Jason just laughs along. “That’s the good thing, that you get it wrong now so you won’t get it wrong with the real patient.” He smiles. 

Even though I’m rather concentrate because I actually like this, I can still feel Harry’s eyes on me and every time I look up our eyes meet and he doesn’t even look away. He knows the effect he has on me and he’s enjoying it. 

Mario’s station is right next to Harry’s and they chat to one another as my group follows Mario’s instructions. Jason’s happy that this dummy doesn’t have a belly so we can’t keep making fun of him when he does it wrong again because he’s so sure he’s gonna fail he ends up failing every time but we have fun with Mario. He’s shy but Ollie and JJ are not and he’s young so he laughs along with all the joking. 

When we get to Harry’s station, I can’t erase the grin off my face and every time he looks at me I see the corners of his lips curling up too. He introduces himself and asks for everybody’s name, except from mine, Jason’s and Marie’s and I’m happy he isn’t pretending we don’t know each other even if I don’t know why I thought he would. I can tell he’s trying not to look at me too much but his eyes linger on mine longer than they linger on the rest of the people on the group. That alone has my belly doing somersaults because all the girls in my group are really pretty, especially my friends, and the fact that he’s still paying a little extra attention to me has me feeling weak at the knees. But I know he’s on teacher mode and obviously that only makes the whole thing feel funnier between my legs. He really turns me on so much when he gets all smart. 

For the first part of the station, we just watch him work as he explains and demostrates the procedure just like we have watched Peter and Mario but of course with Harry is different, he’s way more mesmerizing, almost hyptnoic and judging by the look on the rest of girls’ faces, I’m not the only one who thinks that. I feel a stupid jealousy attack that burns the pit of my belly and I hate myself for being so foolish. This is so silly, God. He would never ever see me like that. 

Jason’s the first one of us four to try it and as I watch him repeting Harry’s instruction with the ambu ventilation out lout, I realize somehow Harry’s ended up standing right next to me. I feel my cheeks heating because he’s so close his arm is touching mine and I can feel his body heat- he must be some sort of human heater- and his scent secretly fills my nostrils. I can feel him glancing at me from the corner of his eyes every now and then. Maybe he’s realized we seem to have gravitated to each other too... 

He keeps adding bits of information as the rest of my mates follow his instructions and I almost want to kill myself when it’s Olivia’s turn because of course she doesn’t fail to mention I’ve told her about him. I shut my eyes and snort and when my eyes open again I see Harry staring at me with an amused smile. 

“That’s funny” He says “she’s told me about you too.” 

I smirk at his reaction but I pray to God they do not enter on a teasing competition because knowing Ollie I don’t know who’d win. My classmates’ face is so funny. It’s clear they have no idea what’s going on and I love that they’re thinking I have something with him. I don’t, but the fact that these girls who minutes before were looking at him as if he was a stick of meat know think there might be something between us is sending me over the moon. 

“I wonder what she’s told you about me...” Ollie starts, please God don’t let her say what I think she’s going to say. “Do you want to know what she’s told me about you?” She smirks devilishly. 

I feel Harry’s chest vibrating next to me as he chuckles and I feel my cheeks and neck heat up. 

“No.” 

I feel my heart crushing a little at his apparent lack of interest, but then again what is he going to say? Yes? In front of everybody? Ollie smiles as she hands him the guedel cannula back because she knows she’s won. 

“Okay, Sorry, now it’s your turn.” 

I know Sorry might not be the loveliest nickname but it still makes my insides turn upside down every time he calls me that. I’m biting back a smile as I pass over him so I’m hovering over the dummy’s mouth. I do the ambu ventilations without much trouble despite the fact that feeling his eyes on me like that makes my hands trouble. I hand him the ambu and hold my hand out for him to give me the guedel cannula but he doesn’t. 

“Harry?” His eyes focus on mine and I chuckle at his absent mindedness. “Can I have the guedel cannula, please?” 

“Yes, of course, sorry.” He smiles. 

Is he blushing? I smile myself as I carefully introduce the cannula inside the dummy’s mouth before I slowly but firmly turn my wrist until I feel the canula inserting itself on the dummy’s throat. I look up at him but he really seems to be out of it, his eyes set on my hands. I clear my throat. 

“That was very good.” He congratulates me. “It’s...” 

He clears his throat too and looks at the rest of my classmates. Did I just make Harry nervous? I want to laugh at the thought. 

“It’s very important when you’re introducing the cannula.” He approaches me until his body is standing right behind me and then I feel his breath on my ear. “May I?” 

His hand hovers over mine but before I can take my hand off the cannula so he can manoeuvre with it, he places his hand over mine and helps me move the cannula myself. 

“It’s very important that you slide the cannula across the tongue so that when you introduce it inside the throat, it doesn’t touch the uvula.” 

I’m sure he can feel my chest going up and down erraticly as I fight for my breath. Who would have thought emergency ventilation could sound so sexy? I feel lightheaded because having him talking about sliding things across the tongue so that it doesn’t touch the uvula when it gets in the throat it’s having me thinking all sorts of things. I can’t help but picture myself on my knees in front of him and him slowly fucking my mouth until he’s on my throat and I feel the pressure on the back of my neck and my eyes water. I’m sure I shouldn’t speak now because my mouth feels dry but I feel like if I don’t there’s no way I can get this thought out of my mind. Thank God he can’t see my face because I must look like a poppy judging by how hot it feels. 

“What happens if it touches the uvula?” 

“Well” 

Harry’s hand secretly caresses my arm as he removes his body from behind me and I instantly feel the coldness his body is leaving. It’s still hard to breathe when I dare to look into his eyes and I only feel myself getting wetter when I look into his eyes. The green in them has darkened and he looks almost animalistic. I feel naked under his stare. He smirks smugly. He’s perfectly aware of the effect that had on me and it’s that smile that lets me know he’s doing it on purpose. 

“It’s annoying for the patient.” He smirks. “It’s a very sensitive area, and it can cause a coughing fit.” 

“Or gagging.” Jason adds. 

Both Harry and I look at him and it’s like for the first time in minutes I realize Harry and I are not alone. I widen my eyes at my friend’s intrusion as if I already know what’s going to say. 

“You’ve never had something on your mouth touching your uvula, Indie?” Jason asks faking innocence. 

I feel my cheeks burning and I know I’m blushing like I just ran a marathon when Harry laughs out loud at Jason’s hint. I’m going to kill him. 

“And, excuse me, Harry, can I ask a question?” Mario to the rescue. God bless her. 

“Of course.” He’s still chuckling as he tries to go back to professional doctor-teacher Harry. 

“We have different measures of guedel cannulas, right? Do we use them depending on the age or sex or what?” 

I give Marie a thank you glance and I know she gets it despite she’s casually smiling at Harry. I know she knows the answer to that question, she’s by far the smartest of us four, but she asked that in an attempt to save me. 

“Right.” Harry lifts his hips from the desk he had been leaning on and takes the cannula out of the dummy placing it next to the dummy’s jaw. “It obviously depends on the age and the sex but we still have differences between same age same sex people so what we do is we grab the one that’s originally thought for let’s say a medium age woman and then you just place it on their jaw. If it reaches from the corner of their mouth to the temporomandibular joint, then it is the right size.” 

Peter warns both Harry and Mario than the hour has gone by and I stand next to Jason hoping he can feel how much I want to strangle him to death as Harry starts picking up his tools, both Marie and Ollie helping him while I just stand there and look at him as if I have never seen a man before. I can’t believe he just did that at all, much less in front of my classmates. He’s never touched me like that before. 

“Let me see, Indie” Jason starts “let’s measure your throat.” 

I death glare at him and take a glimpse of Harry biting back a smile from the corner of my eyes. 

“Woah, this is too small for her, isn’t it Harry?” 

I’m going to kill him. 

Harry looks up and gives yet another step closer to me, grabbing the cannula from Jason’s hand and holding it next to me jaw. I feel his thumb resting on my cheek bone though, the tip of his index finger resting on the spot right underneath my ear. 

“It is a little small for her, yeah.” He states. “I reckon I could get it on her throat though.” 

My eyes widen and I can’t help but laugh. I can’t believe he just said that. All three of us start laughing and as he leaves, he stands very close to me, the closest he’s ever been before he winks so that only I can see it and then walks away laughing. 

Ollie’s jaw is almost touching the floor. 

“I think I’m wet. Can’t imagine how you are.” 

“Ollie!” 

A couple hours later I’m making my way towards the surgery rooms not sure if my knees are going to be able to support my weight if Harry is going to be as playful on the practice as he was during the seminar. We both know there’s really no need for me to have every practice with him but after I looked for him on my second day and he looked for me on my third, it’s like we silently agreed he was my new mentor and I was his only student. 

He’s already on the surgery room chatting with the nurses as I make my way inside but he stops his chatting and grins at me as I approach him. 

“Hey there, Sorry.” He grins. “Long time no see.” 

I shake my head and roll my eyes before I tie my surgical mask at the back of my head. I really like today’s nurse, Lidia, and between that and the fact that  Harry’s playful mood doesn’t seem to have changed, I smile behind my mask. 

“So Lidia” I start as I watch Harry organize every bolus he might need on his trolley “do you know that Harry has given us a seminar today?” 

“Really?” She giggles, she’s so cute. “And how did he do?”

“Yeah, Sorry, how did I do?” 

“He did fine.” I confess. 

His green eyes look into mine with an amused glimpse on them and even though I can’t see his smile, I feel it in my belly. 

“I did fine, eh?” He smiles. “Did you hear that Danny? I’m a good teacher.” 

My good mood only gets better when I see our surgeon today is going to be professor Gibbins. I love him. We all do and it’s quite clear he likes me and my friends specially. 

“You really are.” I tell him. “Not just because of today. I’ve learnt a lot on practice with you.” 

We’ve spent enough hours together with our mouths and cheeks covered with the mask for me to be able to read his eyes and I know his cheeks are probably pink now and his lips are probably curved into a shy smile. He’s not great at taking compliments. I’ve noticed that. I don’t fail to notice professor Gibbins’ amused smile before he ties his surgical mask behind his head as well.  

“Yes! It’s so great you’re here, Indigo” professor Gibbins smiles “because today it’s only me operating so you’re going to be my assistant.” 

“What?” Harry chips in. “No, no, you can’t take Sorry away. She’s mine.” 

I don’t know if he notices the way my eyes set on him. But I already feel my pussy clenching. Dear Lord this surgical gowns are literally made of paper. I’m afraid I might squirt or make a puddle at my feet. 

“Come on, Styles. You barely have to do anything today. Let her decide. What do you think Lidia?” 

Lidia giggles at their playful banter. 

“Yeah, she should be able to choose.” 

“She wants to be a surgeon anyway.” Professor Gibbins shruggs. 

“She likes Anesthesia too. She told me last week.” 

He remembers. 

“Well, what do you want to do? Indigo?” 

By the time they actually ask me I’m already disinfecting my hands so I can put on the sterilized gloves and get near the sterilized area. Professor Gibbins laughs out loud before he throws both arms up in the air in celebration. 

I spend the rest of the afternoon assisting professor Gibbins so I can’t take the grin off my face. Even though most of the time it’s just them explaining things to me or asking me questions, they also get some time to gossip when we’re doing something too mecanical. It’s funny how then men have the nerve to say gossip is something typical of women. 

When we’re done I walk to the female changing room and get back on my clothes from this morning. Hight waist jeans and a woolen crop top. I always wear hight waist jeans. I love them. It took me years to learn to accept my body but finding hight waist pants and skirts helped a lot because the problem with my body is my hips are wide but I do have a keen waist so this is the outfit that flatters me the most. I do a lot of sport too so my legs and buttocks are muscly but if I don’t mark my waist when I dress, I guess I’d look fat. I mean, I’m by no means as slender as Ollie or Marie, I don’t think their trousers would fit me like they fit them but I’m happy with my body now. It took me long enough. 

When I open the door, so does Harry, and I feel his eyes roaming my body up and down. I can’t even pretend I care because it actually excites me, as everything he does, and my eyes do the same with his anyway. I actually feel my breath catch in my throat as I take in the way he looks with casual clothes on. He looks incredible on a beige woolen sweater and dark blue jeans. 

“First time we finish at the same time.” 

The way he chuckles after saying that has me blushing so I just smile at him and start walking to get out of here before he has time to make me blush again. I glance at my phone screen and see more than 50 messages on the Golden Girls group. I hope they’ve decided where we’re going out tonight. I feel Harry walking right behind me before he speaks. 

“Do you have plans tonight?” 

His questions takes me off guard. There’s no way he’s asking me out but is he? I breathe before I say anything stupid to embarrass myself. I want to say no, just to see what he’d do because I swear if he asks me out I might faint. I look over at him and take the way he looks in again. There’s no way he’s asking me out. 

“I do, yeah.” 

“Took you so long to answer.” He chuckles. “That’s good. It’s a friday, after all.” 

“Do you?” 

For a second I regret asking him because the possibility that he might have a date and the thought of him having dinner or kissing a woman makes me furious or sad. Probably both. 

“Yeah.” 

I nod. Why did it get so awkward all of a sudden? 

“Mm, Indigo” 

It might be the first time he calls me by my name and I didn’t think I’d like it that much. At this point, I think I’d like any name he’d call me. It’s about the way it sounds and the fact that it’s him talking to me. 

“Yeah?” 

His eyes move up to my eyes. I can’t believe he was looking at my breasts? I have to bite back a smile. 

“Do you want a ride?” 

“What?” 

His cheeks tinged pink. 

“I....” He scratches the back of his neck. Is he nervous? “I have my car here and I’m going home so I can drop you off, if you want. That’s if you want, obviously.” 

HARRY’S POV 

I shouldn’t have offered. See? This is exactly what I didn’t want- for her to feel forced to say yes to me because I’m her mentor, even though I’m not. How can I be so nervous? He’s six years younger than me for the love of God. 

“Thank you very much.” She smiles sheepishly. “That’s very nice of you, but I don’t want to be a bother.” 

“It’s no bother.” 

What was that? Why do I insist? She’s just politely saying no, Harry, let it be. 

“Are you sure?” 

I grin. That’s a yes. I know that face. It’s stupid that I get so excited that she said yes to a ride home. It’s not like she said yes to a date or like she gave me her phone number. I think I’m suffering some sort of regression back to my teenage years or something. 

I don’t know what got inside me today. I think it was just fucking Danny’s words this morning or those fucking jeans she wears or the thong I know she’s wearing for those jeans are so tight otherwise I’d see the elastic of her underwear. My blood is leaving my brain again. 

The lift door closes after us and I feel a lump of nerves in my throat. This is ridiculous but I mean we’re in a fucking hospital, what are the chances that the two of us end up alone on the lift? Normally I go down with at least three other people. The thought of pressing the stop button and then pressing her against the wall and kiss her is like a parasite on my brain. Think about cars, think about custard. 

“Hey, Harry” She starts- thank God- please distract me. “I wanted to apologize for my friends’ behaviour today at the seminary.” She bites her bottom lip and it seems to have a straight line with my dick. “They’re...” She shuts her eyes and places a hand on her forehead. “I don’t even have words to excuse them.” 

“I think they’re funny.” I give her a smile and she furrows her eyebrows like I like. “And your friend Ollie” I chuckle at the way her face contours on embarrassment “you’re right, she’s something else.” 

She chuckles and shakes her head. She’s normally not so quiet so I start to worry I might have crossed a line. She did apologize for her friends’ behaviour, maybe I should apologize too? 

“You did pretty good today at the seminar by the way.” I tell her instead because that is true. 

“So did you.” She smiles at me. She’s even prettier under the lights of the lift. “I was very nervous.” 

“You were?” I fake innoncence and she rolls her eyes and pushes my arm playfully. 

She blushes the second she realized she has touched me. 

“Sorry.” 

“What for?” I grin at her. 

I wish she’d touch me all the time. Man, I need to jerk off when I get home. I can tell she’s waiting for me to guide our way towards my car. I don’t know why it’s so exciting for me to take her home but somehow having her in my car makes me nervous and excited like a kid before his first day of school. 

I shouldn’t be so smug but I feel my ego bursting when I see her face as she sees my car. I take it most of her friends have old cars like I used to have when I was studying and that makes me feel more confident too. I open the passenger door of my Range Rover and she gets in with a shy smile. 

I won’t even try to stop grinning like an idiot because there’s no use. I feel like I won the lottery as I sit on the drivers’ seat and have a glance at her. She looks so fucking good on my car. I feel my dick gaining protagonism and I swear I’ve never gotten turned on just by seeing a woman sitting on my car but she really does something to me. 

“Where to, miss Sorry?” 

She smiles and I melt. She tells me her address and I start the engine. He lives fucking far away from the hospital, poor thing. What time does she normally wake up? And what time does she go to bed? And what does she normally wear to sleep? Fuck, I’m doing it again. 

“And what are you doing tonight?” 

“Tonight we celebrate the creation of our group.” She grins. 

“Which group?” 

“You know, Jason, Marie, Ollie and me.” 

“Oh, The Golden Girls.” 

“Exactly. So today we go crazy.” 

She’s not telling me where they’re going so I won’t ask but the thought of bumping into her is enough to make my mind explode. I bet she looks fucking sexy when she goes out. I picture her with make up, with lipstick on... How her lips must feel against mine... And then I imagine my dick stained with her lipstick. I need a shower. 

INDIE’S POV 

We jump and dance to The Nights by Avicii as if we will never be able to dance again in years. The whole dance floor is turning around myself at this point and I don’t even know whether it is because of my jumping, the alcohol or if the club is actually turning around and around. 

We don’t usually go out to The Chain, because it’s really hard to get in and very expensive inside but every now and then Jason actually accepts his father’s offer and he gets us in. 

Since we met in uni, all we knew about our pasts is what we’ve told and even if some of us took longer than other to open up about it, I’d say at this point we pretty much know everything about eachother. Jason’s parents got a divorce when he was twelve years old. Her father had a lover, someone whom he had been cheating on his wife with for years and that completely broke Jason’s mum’s heart. He lives with her and he’s never quite forgotten his dad for that. Both his parents are lawyers and the divorce was quite nasty, especially for a twelve years old boy who at the time was struggling with finding out about his own sexuality. They were messy years in his life and I wish I had been there for him then. I know Marie and Ollie wish the same thing too. 

I sing along with Marie and I love seeing her like this. She’s by far the most introverted and responsible of us four, because Ollie and Jason are something else, and I’m pretty good with people too; but my Marie, she’s more insecure and shy. It really makes no sense to me because she truly is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. Her new haircut suits her so great too, with her short black waves wrapping up her rounded face. She’s shinning on her golden sequin top as she lifts her hands above her head and lets go. I wish she always looked so carefree. 

Ollie comes back with our third drink and screams so the four of us can hear her over the loud music. I see some men looking at her up and down and I shake my head. All these 30-years-old really think they might have something to do with my 21 years old friend. 

“Guys!” She screams. “You won’t believe who’s at the bar!” 

“Please tell me it’s Ryan Gosling.” Jason brings his hands close to his chest and pretends to pray. 

“Better.” 

Jason then turns his neck and glares at Ollie. You don’t joke about Ryan Gosling. 

“I was ordering and then I recognize a male’s voice and I was like: NO WAY!” 

“Okay, just say it, geez!” Marie insists. 

I turn my head to the bar and there I see him. Being tall has this kind of advantages. Harry raises his glass from his spot at the bar and grants me with his sexy smile. 

“Professor Gibbins, doctor Harry Styles and Mario!” 

[kinghoranshit]

Tell Me a Lie (NH) Ch 1

Word count: 1,514

Warnings: Swearing

Slightly frustrated, I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and then twisted it into a messy bun. I set my classic square, thick rimmed, black glasses on my face and I continued on trying to read the final turnaround manuscript for Stone Cold. It was the first book of the trilogy that my best friend and I wrote through college. We decided to finally take the initiative to self-publish it. 

My bachelor’s was in English, with a concentration in creative writing. I was an editor for a company based in London, United Kingdom while I lived in the United States. I wasn’t ready to move across the ocean yet. 

I bit down on my black ballpoint pen, concentrating on the words. It was the read through before I’d make it into a PDF with InDesign. This was the time to make any last minute changes we wanted, which was both exciting and nerve-wracking. As my meadow eyes flowed across the paper, I barely made any marks. 

I glanced at the time on my phone and cursed under my breath. 

It was 6:00 pm. I needed to change my editing to the current manuscripts for work. 

Fuck. 

I marked my spot before I closed the binder and switched it out with the Rivals binder. There was a ding from my laptop before I could get indulged, and noticed Skype had pulled up. I furrowed my eyebrows and my heart skipped a bit when I saw his name and picture. I answered and adjusted my position so I was facing it more. 

His blue eyes filled my vision, literally. 

“Niall, back the fuck up.” 

His laugh sounded and he backed his phone away now. I was getting a wonderful view of bare chest hair and double chin now.

“Laureeeen.”

“Niaaalll,” I mocked.

He was obviously tired, but he wouldn’t sleep until he wanted to. He was a stubborn motherfucker like that, I’ve learned over the past few years. It didn’t matter what timezone he was in compared to me. Currently, he was six hours ahead.

He made a short laugh. “How’s it going?”

I shrugged as I brought my legs up to my chest and peered over them with my chin resting on my knees. “Alright, I had to stop the final editorial for Stone Cold and switch to one for work. Spent more time on it than I intended… It’ll be a late night.”

“Hast doth serious?” 

I made a small snort, laughing a little more. “Ye, hast doth tots serious. Why ist ye calling doth?” 

Niall laughed. “Doth hast a plan to present thee.”

“Ok. Can thee stop speaketh like thisth?” 

“Yes.”

I smiled. “What plan are you talking about?”

“I want you to be my next PR girlfriend.” 

I busted out laughing, hysterically. It was embarrassing, but I couldn’t stop. 

“Kelly, love, I’m serious. This is a legit business offer.”

I stopped now, clearing my throat. “Really?” 

Niall nodded, ruffling a hand through his hair. 

“Why me? How did you come to the conclusion of having me as a PR girlfriend?”

He chuckled under his breath and sat up more on the couch. “Well… It’s just… Management thought it’s time for another PR girlfriend. I chose you because I thought you’d be able to handle it... and I don’t hate you.”

“Good to know.” I smirked, but that didn’t stop the butterflies in my stomach. “I’m not quite saying yes yet, and I’m not saying there has to be something in it for me… but is there?”

He nodded. “Yeah, the deal would be one tweet from me official account to promote the Stone Cold trilogy with the link, and Modest! will pay off all the student loan debts you have.”

My eyes went a little wide and I took a slow, deep breath. “That’s quite the trade, Nialler. I don’t know if I could accept all that for being your fake girlfriend.”

“Lauren, trust me, the trade is enough for what you might endure. It might not even be enough, now that I think about it. I sort of hate myself now for even thinking of dragging you in.”

I shook my head. “Niall… Don’t worry.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You’re saying yes?” 

“Yes. So, how is this going to work exactly?”

“Before we can even do anything, I’m gonna send ya papers to sign. Just formal stuff and liability.”

“Of course, of course,” I replied. My mind raced to how we would go about this, and I knew it would involve paparazzi. Photos would be spread everywhere and there would be no going back after it started. 

I bit the inside of my cheek as I played with the cap of my pen.

“What’re you thinking, Kelly?” Niall questioned, worry underlying his tone. 

I cleared my throat. “I’m not backing out, I promise. I just know that once it starts, there’s no going back. It’ll take time to adjust.” 

“I’ll be there every step of the way. Our first thing will be getting photos of us in public together and the fandom will kick it off from there… We’ll confirm it eventually. Then have an interview or two and events with red carpets.” 

“Okay.” I nodded with a slightly heavy sigh. “Sounds easy enough. When’re you thinking we’ll do the first photos?”

He let out a heavy sigh, causing his front ends to fly up momentarily, and then he couldn’t help himself from ruffling his hand through them. “If we can get the paperwork sorted in the next day or two, I was thinking in roughly two weeks. Location is still to be decided.”

“Okay. It’ll be great to see you in person again. We haven’t in over a year.” 

“Yeah, well I was busy with the tour,” he remarked with a chuckle. 

“I know, the last time I saw you was the Chicago show.”

He scoffed. “I can’t believe you bought the meet and greet. I got you backstage after the show.” 

I rolled my eyes. “I wanted to support one of my best friends. We got a great photo to commemorate.” 

“You’re right.” He lightly rolled his eyes. 

“What’s our cute meet story?” I asked, randomly considering it. I felt that it would be important for the fans to think we were believable. 

He smirked, his blue eyes brightening. “We met in London at a coffee shop a few years back by chance and continued to talk from there. I asked you out around my 25th birthday and you cried, saying yes. We’ve been together since… Good, right? I made up the story meself.”

I giggled. “Yeah, it’s good. So we’ve been together for over a year?... And I don’t think I cried. I think you cried after I said yes.”

“Shut the fuck up, Kelly. How about no one cried then, yeah?” 

“Deal.” I stood up now and prepared my keurig to make a cup of decaf coffee. I needed something if I was going to get anything done after this call. I knew I spent too much time on personal projects; it was a constant fight. 

“Coffee, eh?” he snickered. 

I looked at him with an amused grin. “Always. But it’s decaf, a pick me up to get me through the rest of the work.”

Niall nodded. “Been there. Had some long studio sessions recently that led to a few cups of tea.”

“Man, I wish I hadn’t run out of my grey tea.” I would’ve preferred that for a night of editing. Coffee was more of an early morning and afternoon beverage. 

“You’re so basic,” he teased. “Where have the lessons I’ve taught you gone?”

I rolled my eyes. “In one ear and out the other.” I couldn’t help laughing at the offended look on his face. “I’m joking. Hey look, I should let you go so you get some sleep and I can get editing done.”

He yawned lightly. “Perfect. Goodnight, Lauren. Text ya soon.” 

“You too.” 

We made small waves and smiles before we ended the call. His face took a while to fade away from my mind. Honestly, it probably won't be until tomorrow. He was just so unforgettable and without a doubt the bestest friend to have. He could always make me smile on my lowest of days. Now we were going to possibly be a PR couple. 

Well this was fucking mad. I guess it was time for life to throw me another curveball to change my life; for better or for worse. I was going to go with it head on. 

I wasn’t sure how much I’d tell my friends and family at the moment. I should wait for the contract and see what my guidelines were. I knew that included my social media so I was going to go silent for a bit until it was settled. 

My eyes read the black ink on the paper, but my mind wasn’t registering anything. Fuck, I needed to focus. This wasn’t set and done yet. It shouldn’t be a concern for me at this point of time. 

Next: Ch 2 

[Masterlist]

[imnotwolverine]

Free writing - Mom And The Mushrooms

Author’s note: Again -- if you’re here for the Henry content you can skip this one. I can’t find any inspiration for Henry stories at the moment, so I thought I’d share one of my ‘free writing’ stories instead. I’m super nervous about sharing this with you, but..ever tried ever failed, right?😅

Mom And The Mushrooms

Warnings: Dystopian, character death, food poisoning, grief

Word count: 3.607 (13 min. reading time) 

--

Phase 1: Denial

They had to be kidding right?

With a shaking jumble the train came to yet another screeching halt. And we weren’t even there yet.

Would they throw me out here? In this suburban, white picketed wilderness? I could see the grass growing thigh high. Trees poking out through the roofs of houses that had once been the wet dream of every newly-wed nuclear family.

If only they had known what would come of the world. 

Leaning into the large glass window, I let my eyes wander. There wasn’t even a platform in sight, the rails tracking for miles ahead before I could make out the silhouette of my hometown in the distance. It was no more but a bluer shade of blue in the crisp sky. Like a fever dream that I so eagerly wanted to wake up from right now. I didn’t want to be here. In this train. Going home. Or whatever was left of home.

I watched as two blue uniformed men passed outside my window. Train crew. Their stubby fingers letting factory rolled cigarettes dance as smoke puffed from their lips, their moustaches curling up with something that might just be a smile. I hadn’t seen people smile for years. So, sure. It was a little weird.

Would they throw me out here? With a speeding heart I watched them, but they walked on. Onward to the nose of the train, their pace glacial as they sauntered on side by side. Why were they so happy? Idiots.

Sighing, I rested back into the coffee stained bench, the old raggedy fabric reminding me of the long years this train had been in service. It was a miracle that it still managed to move out here once a week. In between the mighty storms, floods, hurricanes and what not. It was a miracle that people still dared to go out in this wilderness. Myself included. Though, I obviously didn’t have much of a choice.

Simmering quietly, my attention was drawn to an old broadcaster that crackled to life. The sound resembled something that might have once sounded human. But right now it sounded more like metallic gibberish. Hard to discern and probably also hardly important.

“Kggg--zz running int-----resume in a tsssskk --”

*click*

It was the last stop before we finally arrived in my hometown. Home. Pff. They had to be kidding right?

--

Phase 2: Anger

Home was a town without a name. The sign was long stolen and had never been replaced. RB04 - Midhaven. That’s what it was called. For it was located exactly in the middle of two supercities; 8LU3 - Blue City and R3D - Red City.

It was the only town that still had a few inhabitants for miles to come. And it had a shop too, my feet dragging inside as I tugged my suitcase along. The copper bell by the door tolled loudly and I couldn’t help myself but think: I fucking hate this.

‘Angel?’ A halfling sized man walked out from behind the counter, his head appearing from behind a rack with candied bars past their expiration date. He looked a century older, and perhaps an inch or so smaller. But he was still Bub. He still had that stupid smile on his face. That spiky white hair. A near toothless smile. Why did these people ever smile? What was there to smile about?

‘Bub.’ - I sounded tired.

The man’s furry brows lifted, and for a moment I wondered if he could see me at all.

‘You look terrible.’ - Fair enough, he did.

I shrugged. ‘Much like this town.’

For a moment we just stared at each other as a strange energy crackled in the late afternoon air, the rest of the small shop completely abandoned. Then again; so was most of this town. The bell behind my head ringed again, this time by a gust of autumn wind that washed inside, breaking the silence. Bub cleared his gravelly throat.

‘You’re here for ye mum’s stuff?’

‘I am.’

His brows furrowed even more, before finally he turned his attention to the counter, small feet shuffling back until I could see no more of him but the few white hairs that poked out over the wooden counter. I could see him move to and fro, but I was too tired, upset..and perhaps a touch angry, to be willing to care.

‘Tis been long since last I saw you.’ He spoke from behind the counter. ‘You a grand cuisine cook now?’

I felt my gut drop and face sour. I wish I could say I had. I had promised I would. But I had failed. I was a fucking, miserable failure. I hated myself. I was angry at myself. And had I just been better, smarter, faster...and less of an expensive mushroom stealing mess..I wouldn’t be here. They wouldn’t have cast me out. I could have made my mother proud.

I could still hear her voice: “Don’t forget about us - because we won’t forget about you. And know I’ll always be here for you.”

Well that was a lie. She was proclaimed dead and I was here, alone. Or well, sort of. Bub was still around. And for some odd reason I believed he was one of those immortal beings, ready to even outlive me, the last girl to ever be born in Midhaven. He was like one of those wizard-like creatures that offered you omens and odd jokes. In fact the only thing he missed was a bushy full beard. He sure got the humour right. I think. I mean, society wasn’t about fun. I had learned that the hard way in the last ten years as I worked my way up in the kitchen of The White Hall.

Fuck. I hated myself, for making such a mess of my life. And what in the hell was Bub doing back there?

I peeked over the counter but couldn’t see more than Bub’s spiky white hair. ‘So..how are you Bub?’

He didn’t respond and I decided to just breathe and let my anger fizzle and eyes wander. This shop had been here since I was young. It was all artificial foods. Tasteless crap. Quick, easy, cheap. No animals hurt. No nature hurt. No nature even needed.

I hated that, too; for true beauty, taste and pleasure, a little hurt is needed. That’s what the kitchen taught me. You’ve gotta sear, steam, salt, dry and beat your ingredients if you want to make them taste like anything. Pain. Pleasure. Perfection.

Perhaps that was the silver lining of my return. It sure hurt good.

Bub returned from behind the counter with a key on a keychain, the red colour of the cord faded.

‘No need to bother with the pleasantries.’ Bub finally answered, a little defeated. ‘Miryam died. The boys left for the city. Business is terrible. Do you want anything else?’

I looked down at the small man and felt something that might just be a pang of sympathy. I hadn’t felt sympathy in a long time and it made me uncomfortable to say the least. In my time as a sous-chef, sympathy was the last skill I’d ever need to use. I just had to perform, perform, perform!

I quietly took the keychain and looked back into the dusty old shop, wondering.

‘Did the farm close down?’ My eye fell on the corner where some fresh produce had  once been displayed; the empty crates looked too dusty for my question to even need answering.

‘A long time ago. Yes. There’s no business to be done in onions and leeks no more.’

‘Shame.’

‘Gotta blame the people.’

Another silence fell and for another moment we just looked at each other. A small smile formed on Bub’s wrinkly little mouth and I sighed. Could you really blame the people when they simply couldn’t even afford good food if they wanted to? I retaliated.

‘You’re right. And eh, give me some of the red stuff.’

Bub nodded and picked one off the long row of identically red labeled cans, his small body wobbling as the contents shifted his center of gravity.

‘This should keep you stuffed for a good week. Anything else?’

‘Nope. That’s all.’ I took the can from him. ‘How much is it?’

His smile grew. ‘One home cooked meal.’

I wasn’t sure if I was going mad by that point, but I swear that man had just asked me to cook for him. And it wasn’t likely to be warming up this red goopy goo. I looked down at the can and then the man, confusion crawling over my tired face.

‘What now?’

‘Your mother taught you to forage, right? I haven’t had a proper good meal in…’ He raised a brow as if thinking. ‘..ages.’

I blinked at him as he walked back to his hiding spot behind the counter, the deal apparently made.

‘I have some pig’s grease stacked away. Not much. But enough. See you tomorrow?’

I knew I should say no. In fact I had almost sworn to never cook again as they had thrown me on this train today. But something deep inside of me sang to Bub’s words. Begged me to consider. Perhaps it were the rich autumn smells in the air. Luscious and fungal. Perhaps it was my grumbling stomach combined with the hopeful glint I saw in Bub’s eyes. In any way. Before I knew it, the word was out.

‘O-okay.’ I breathed.

‘Great. See you tomorrow, Angel.’

--

Phase 3: Bargaining

They had never found my mom’s body. And laying here in my mom’s bed, I could swear she had been here only hours earlier. I could still smell her. That nauseating combination of heady flowery scents. Even now it made me a little sick in the stomach. Honeysuckle, herby, rosy..skunk.

I had despised this smell with a passion, but for the moment it gave me comfort. And perhaps even hope. Perhaps my mom wasn’t really dead. Perhaps she had just met a new man and moved to a new apartment further down town. Perhaps, she had just forgotten to send me an update. I mean. I never sent her updates about my life. So who could blame her? Oh mom. You crazy, crazy woman.

I rolled over in bed and inhaled deeply. Memorizing the dizzying smells combined with the wisp of morning air as it moved in through the cracked open window. It smelled devine. Like wet dirt and sunshine. So very different from the pristine clean smells of the city, which were all chemical and dispassionate.

In nature smells had a goal. To entice. To warn. To taste. To .. love. And my mom had been just that. Always completely and utterly in love. With nature, beasts.. and men. Let’s not forget about men.

Rolling out of bed I trudged into the small apartment, flowery cushions layered with dust and vines moving in through the cracks in the walls. I took a few testy bites of the red goo, but decided that I might as well move out and see if Bub had been right. Whether I could forage at all.

--

The morning was still surprisingly cool, my fingers wrapping urgently around my city-girl coat to keep warm. My practical shoes beat a steady rhythm on the pavements and for long quiet moments I remembered my youth here. There had been more people then. There had still been a school, some bars, jobs, families. But right now they all seemed to have left. Just like my mom had. Away from this overgrown misery. Million dollar misery.

My mom had once told me that these car wrecks by the road had once been driven by the richest of the richest. They’d sit in the back and have drivers drive them to important business meetings in the tops of the highest skyscrapers. They’d wear sleek tuxedo’s and go to fancy balls. They’d go dancing with pretty women. On live music, played on real instruments. And they’d have food. The best that money could buy.

Right now those cars were no more but rusty wreckages. Bugatti. Astin Martin. Ferrari. The city had swallowed them back up, large trees now growing around them, breaking up the cracked tarmac like spindly green fingers.

In the distance I could see some movement. A herd of deer. And though I knew there would be animals, I could still feel my heart race at the sight of their fluffy white butts, nervous cheeks halting their chewing as they noticed my presence. I held my breath and waited, but they fled all the same. Softly their hooves clacked as they jumped through the city jungle. One by one. A great buck following them last, large antlers reaching out like roots from his head.

‘Everything is connected dear. The people, the plants, the trees, the earth and the sky. We’re all connected, living the circle of life. Over and over and over. And that’s not scary. That’s beautiful.’

I could hear my mom as we’d saunter through the wilder parts of the city. Picking herbs to make that watery drink. What was it called again? Ah yes. Tea. My sweetness, I had missed tea. And, I missed mom.

Taking a steadying breath I calmed my escalating thoughts, instead focusing on my journey for today. Today, I was going to cook Bub a meal. And this time I would not have to steal the ingredients. No, I’d find them myself. Thank you very much.

--

‘This is divine!’ Bub exclaimed with a full mouth.

I smiled woefully and looked down at the mushroom stew I had managed to make with the meagre bounty I had gathered. I could have done better probably. But it was good enough for Bub. He was humming and buzzing with every bite.

‘Say Bub..’ I swallowed and looked up at the small man who barely managed to reach out above the table’s edge.

‘Yes Angel?’

‘I never heard how she died.’

Bub stopped chewing and licked his lips. He sighed and slowly shook his head. ‘A broken heart I’m sure. If ever I saw one so passionate about her man, she was it.’

‘And then he left her.’

‘He did.’

‘And you..saw she was dead?’

Bub realised what I was aiming at and huffed softly. ‘Dear. I am so sorry. It must be painful to be back here. All the memories. With your mom especially. I mean. It is difficult with there being no body and all. But she is gone. She is. She was never one to leave without a trace. A sign. A note. A goodbye...’

I didn’t listen as he rambled on. Because as I looked down at my meal I somewhere deep down knew that he was absolutely right.

--

Scene 4: Depression

I probably shouldn’t have pushed my grief away for so long. Back home my body decided it was time for a cleanse. And it sure wasn’t pretty. I sat on the toilet for hours. And for hours I wondered if I perhaps should have put that red goo some place cooler. Did I get food poisoning?

Slow hours passed and I felt dehydrated and exhausted by the time I could lay back down on my mom’s bed again, my dreams after fitful until morning came again.

The next day there was little I could do. I had hoped that I’d see some familiar faces around other than Bub. But the streets were deserted and for hours I’d just wander, reminiscing the old days. I was glad I felt somewhat better. Physically that is. Mentally I was but a shadow of my old, confident self. I had never felt grief before, so I figured I had to just occupy my body until my mind would be too tired to think.

I had nothing left to live for. I had lost my permit to live in the City. My job. My savings. My mom. My ..home. And all I could think of was that it was all my fault. I had left my mom all those years ago. I had made that decision without her. I just went, angry and spiteful of her dreamy daze that got us nowhere.

For long years I didn’t speak or update my mom. But she did update me. The beauty of personal codes was that you couldn’t simply disappear. Updates would always find you when you were in the land of the living.

Should I send my mom an update? See if she’d respond?

I looked down at my feet, their soles no longer touching tarmac but sand, the sediment carried into the streets after centuries of howling winds. And before me there were trees. Not the spindly kind like in my mom’s neighbourhood. But ancient trees, their leaves all fallen down in deep shades of red, purple and yellow, the sun tickling through their bald branches.

And then I could feel rain. Timid at first. Teasing my hair and face as I looked up into the grey sky. I felt the small bullets of truth rain down on me. Torturing me with their cold little kisses. And my eyes started to burn. I knew my mom was dead. I just knew it. I had known it deep in my gut when I had gotten the obituary statement of the legal council. I had known it when Bub had sent word for me - he never did. I had known it when I had waved it away, stating to my colleagues that this was just my mom trying to make me come home.

I hadn’t come home to her then. I hadn’t looked for her. I had stayed. And now I was too late. All I had was the rain as I crumbled and cried beneath the weight. Of defeat. 

I failed you mom.

--

Phase 5:  Acceptance

After my poor night, I figured that the red goo was probably the cause of my digestional problems. And so, after I picked myself up and dried my tears, I scavenged for more food. And I was more successful this time too. The forest I had found offered a great source of roots and herbs. Herbs with which i made my first tea in years. And though the tea tasted alright, it wasn’t as great as when my mom made it. I missed my mom.

Slow days passed like that. Scavenging, foraging, cooking and sleeping. I wondered if this was what my life would be now. Had my mom really died of a broken heart? And if yes; could I? I’d wander and wonder. My feet hitting the streets with a little more confidence each day. And perhaps it was just madness kicking in, but I could swear I heard voices. First far away, making me drift around and search for human life. Then closer by; I realised they came from the earth.

‘Everything is connected.’

My mom had been right. She had once explained that many plants had huge root systems and that there were theories they could sense each other. Even sense each other’s pain. So perhaps, just maybe, they were sensing my pain, too.

The idea was absolutely absurd. I knew it was. But it did bring me some much needed comfort. I had even tried to find Bub and ask him about those roots, but he hadn’t been in his shop. Shop closed, come back later, the little sign on his door had stated. And so I did what any good scientist would do. I started to investigate.

--

The sky was so.. blue. Spreading my hands out over the soft warm moss, I looked through the small glade up at the tall tree branches and away into the eternal skies. I wasn’t quite sure when I had lain down. And if someone had come up and told me I had been laying here for years, then perhaps I would have simply agreed. I could feel those roots beneath me, clawing at me, fusing with me. Dragging me down until my body was but mush.

I could hear them too. Much louder now, especially here in this little sunny glade, a small mound risen like a small bed just for me. I had lain down some minutes, hours, days or years ago, and what a fine bed it was. Mossy, musky and sweet, I let it soothe me as my body started to beg and plead. First quietly, but by now it had become aggravating and paralyzing. I couldn’t as much as lift my fingers by this point now the aches started to grow in strength. It felt as if I was truly falling apart as I rooted into my new existence here at the bottom of these trees.

If you want to make your food taste like anything a little hurt is needed. You gotta sear, steam, salt, dry and beat. Pain. Pleasure. Perfection.

One week ago I lost it all. My house, income, job, future. It lost it all. But now, looking up at the blue sky, voices singing to me, those worries seemed so unimportant. Everything was alright. I was here. Back to my roots. Broken and bruised and hurting all over, I smiled. For the first time in years I smiled. Because as I lay here I realised it no longer mattered. I would never leave again.

‘I’m home mom.’ I muttered, my speech slurred as my body started to seize and shake.

I had made a mistake. That much was clear now. Because as I lay here, writhing and dying, I knew: it hadn’t been the city that would take me down, but the mushrooms. The mushrooms!

The end.

--

Author’s note: I might share some more free writing stories in the future if any of you are interested. But please..! I know you’re here to thirst over Henry (and so am I), so do not feel obligated to like, comment and reblog - though it is of course always most appreciated! Sending you my love dear readers and I hope you’re having a good weekend ❤️

Sources of inspiration: For my short stories I’m diving head first in a lot of interesting articles I’ve archived over the years. For this particular story I’ve delved into the world of the five stages of grieving, as well as the magical world of mushrooms. Did you know that the mushroom you see is but a tiny part of a much larger, growing being? You can somewhat compare mushrooms to apples, as mushrooms are but the fruit that are formed by the much larger mycelium that is found beneath the earth; always prepping to produce more ‘fruit’ when the atmosphere and moisture level is just right. The more you know...

[friendlyneighborhoodsecretary]

3. Prompt: Gardening

By his third day of hiding out at the lakehouse post-Beck, Peter had run out of distractions. Going anywhere near his phone or the TV was out of the question. He couldn't concentrate well enough to do any of the suit tinkering or web fluid adjustments he would usually have fallen back on. He'd already made the rounds of the house, fixing the little leaks and squeaks and anything else he could mindlessly turn a wrench to (not that there were many in a Stark-built home). And there were only so many times a person could take a stroll around the same lake and skip the same stones and swing their legs off the same dock before they went thoroughly and irreversibly insane. He was all but vibrating with restless nerves. And being cooped up out here, where the silence of the woods pressed in on him like dungeon walls and the empty hours yawned ahead of him like a life sentence, wasn’t making it any easier.

By the time Pepper found him after lunch on the third day, he was dangling upside down from the eaves, absently shifting from foot to foot and counting the seconds to see how long it took before he fell. It was possible, Peter realized as he dropped sheepishly back down to the floorboards—just possible—that he might have already slipped over the edge.

“Trust me—I’ve seen worse.” Pepper hadn’t even batted an eye as she brushed off his sputtered explanations. She’d just gathered up the sunhats and the neat bundle of work gloves from the shelf by the door and towed him through the back door with the practiced efficiency of someone who was used to managing chaos before it tipped over into calamity. "Come with me.”

He trailed her reluctantly around the side of the house to the neat rows of raised beds that housed Pepper's garden. Carefully-staked tomato plants here, the scraggly foliage of carrot tops there, lines of squat goji bushes in one bed and the small round buds of new lettuces in another—there were a few things he could identify, but many more that were just...green. Green and vibrant and robust, leaves gently rustling in the hot July breeze and produce of varying sizes and shapes ripening in the sun. He was pulled from his inspection by Pepper pushing a pair of the gardening gloves into his hands and dropping a broad-brimmed sunhat over his eyes (“Yes, I know you’re superhuman, but I don’t think skin cancer discriminates like that”). There was a brief summary of which greens were intentional and which were intrusive, a deft demonstration of proper weed-yanking technique, and then Peter was shepherded to a row of carrots for practice. Pepper settled in amongst an adjacent patch of lettuce and left him to the job. For a moment, he just sat there, the grass prickling against his knees and the sweat beginning to bead up under the heavy gloves as he brooded. Gardening. What was he doing puttering around in the Starks’ backyard, gardening, while his actual life imploded out there in the real world? At least Pepper had earned the break—he caught snatches of her phone calls to the legal team, to the publicists, to all the people who were actually doing something about the mess he was in, and the reality that he wasn’t one of them stung every time.

Peter stared out over the sea of bobbing leaves and sighed. Still, if it wasn’t gardening, what else would it be? More waiting and wondering and wearing new tennis shoe trails in the track around the lake? One was about as productive as the other. Peter squared his shoulders and bent to the task in front of him. If he was going to lose his mind out in the wilderness, he might as well be helpful while he was doing it.

As it turned out after half of an hour’s worth of work, there was something weirdly soothing about kneeling in the dirt and burying yourself in the process of pinpointing what stayed and what went. In the careful concentration it took to yank up a stubborn weed without uprooting anything good that happened to be growing near it. In the calming repetition of pinching off a dead leaf here or a damaged stalk there. There were ladybugs crawling lazily along the stems, occasionally bumping against Peter’s fingertips a few times before they grudgingly redirected around him, and a few birds hopping cautiously along the rim of the beds, mining for unlucky creepy crawlies. It was a steady rhythm of activity—just enough of it to keep Peter’s mind from straying too far beyond the next bunch of nettles to dig out—with a refreshingly comfortable lack of pressure or tension.

Pepper didn't say much, but the silent companionship was…nice. In a way, it was soothing, too. Or, at the very least, a relief from May's fretting and Happy's hovering—not that there was anything wrong with either of those, per se, but when it was all you had day in and day out, it began to smother you alive. The summer sun beat down on his back, the breeze swept lazily across his brow, and for a while, time ceased to exist. There was nothing but the black earth under his hands and the scent of topsoil in his lungs and the steady cycle of the job.

"I started planting things a few months after we moved out here," Pepper said quietly, a solid hour into their work. "Not much at first—just enough to give us a reason to be out in the light rather than holing up inside."

"Us? Mr. Stark helped?" It was an odd image—Peter had always had trouble imagining Tony out in the country at all, let alone elbow-deep in a tangle of zucchini plants or hauling buckets of fertilizer. But then, most of life these days was odd—Tony was recovering from saving the literal universe with a snap of his fingers, Pepper was flicking aphids off of her tomato plants, and Peter felt increasingly more like he was just along for the ride.

Pepper’s mouth twisted in a wry grimace.

"I'm not sure 'help' is the right word given how some of those first few plants fared, but yes, he did pitch in. Under duress, sometimes, but it grew on him.” Peter let out an obligatory snort at the pun, and Pepper forged on, the faint smirk on her lips the only indication that she’d meant it as one. “I saw a quote once—a very, very cheesy Pinterest sort of thing—about planting a garden being an act of belief in having a tomorrow. And back then, right after the Blip, we needed any hope for tomorrow we could find. Or cultivate, as the case may be.”

“It was a good way to refocus. To step back and take a break from trying to put the world back together.” Pepper shot him a pointed look over the carrot tops, and Peter pointedly ignored it. “It was a good distraction, too. I think Tony spent at least five or six hours a day out here during the weeks before Morgan was born, when all we could do was wait for something to happen.”

Peter paused in chucking a handful of weedy foliage at the compost-bound pile that had sprung up between them. The relentless urge to find something, anything helpful to do had eased a little, but it was far from gone. He pursed his lips as he finally turned back to uproot another fistful.

"I just—I wish there was something I could do besides waiting out here. I mean, everything that’s happening is all my fault, but you're the one who's having to fix it and I know it has to be costing you an awful lot and—"

Pepper tipped her sunhat back to level him with a long, hard look that reminded him forcefully of May when she was gently, but firmly pointing out the obvious facts of life, such as "the homework won't do itself" or "the laundry will not make its way from the dryer to your room by magic" or “that Red Bull won’t give you actual wings, so you’d better not expect gravity to give you preferential treatment.”

"Peter. There isn't a single person in this house who wouldn't spend their last dime on making sure you get through this okay. And believe me when I say that we've got a long, long way to go before we even need to start worrying about burning through Stark Industries' supply of dimes."

Peter opened his mouth, a dozen arguments about his opinion of throwing other people’s money at his problems, about sitting on the sidelines while everyone else did the work, about running from the consequences of his own blunders all welling up on the tip of his tongue.  Pepper cut them off.

“You’ll have your work cut out for you in a few weeks, when things have settled a little more and there are fewer people agitating to have you arrested. When that happens, we’ll all work on fixing this together. Until then…try to take advantage of the rest.” Her voice softened. “I know it isn’t easy, Peter. But you’re wrong about it being your fault—and it certainly isn’t your sole responsibility to fix. You’ve got a lot of people on your team.” She coaxed the last tendrils of unwanted clover from her last row and rocked back on her heels. “And a whole lot of tomorrow to believe in. Even if it isn’t exactly what you were envisioning it would be a few weeks ago.”

"Thanks,” Peter murmured. It would’ve sounded trite from anyone else, but from Pepper—Pepper, whose practicality rivaled May’s and whose honesty could rival Happy’s (just in a more polished, less aggressively blunt way)—he could almost believe it. “Not just for this, but you know—for everything."

"Any time, kid.” Pepper shucked her gloves and brushed the dirt from her knees as she stood. She left him to it with a squeeze of his shoulder and an unshakably reassuring smile that Peter would hold onto for a long time to come. He stayed out in the green until the breeze blowing in off the lake had turned cool, and the twilight had started creeping in among the shadows of the pines. There was still a knot of unease in his chest when he finally meandered inside, but it was…smaller. More manageable. The driving restlessness of that morning had been driven out by the bone-deep exhaustion of a long afternoon in the heat and the distinctive tingle of a rising sunburn. It took a solid ten minutes to scrub the grit from his palms and the dirt from under his fingernails, but for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he didn't feel like he'd completely wasted his day. He stumbled through a hazy shower and an even hazier dinner before he fell into bed. And for the first time since he'd arrived, sleep came without a fight. For the first time since he’d arrived, he was too tired to dread it. And while he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe in tomorrow…he didn’t dread the idea of meeting it, either.

[fangirllifu]

Sweet Like Pudding Ch. 22

Italics - thoughts

It's been roughly two months since the end of the training camp. Kanna and Kenma had kept in touch. They chatted and even video called at times, as she does her homework and Kenma plays his games. They'd talk about the troublesome people surrounding them, Kuroo and Koutarou, Kenma's teammates annoying him, and just whatever topic Kanna has on her mind on that specific day.

Much to the delight of Akaashi, who found out they kept contact, despite Kanna trying her best to hide it (she still doesn't know that he knows). It wasn't really that hard for him to figure it out though, what with how much she's recently been glued to her phone and all the smiles she tries oh so terribly to not make them notice. Koutarou maybe, but not him. But in the meantime, he'll keep this all to himself and he'll let the others find out on their own. It's more fun this way anyway. Plus, he gets more pictures for the scrapbook and to possibly bribe Kenma with in the future.

Currently Kanna and Akaashi were at Kanna's home/apartment doing their respective assignments. After a straight hour of continuous studying, they decided to take a break, which reminded Kanna of an upcoming special occasion.

"Hey Keiji, you know how its Kou's birthday next week right?" Kanna brought up the topic, earning a nod from the male.

"We should really do something, even if it's small. Or else he'll whine about it." She grimaces, to which Akaashi shows a sympathetic expression of agreement.

"Small party after school at the house?" Akaashi suggests.

"I'll talk to Aunty then. We should invite Kuroo right?" She nods and adds in question, sure that her cousin would be delighted to have his best friend there.

Akaashi nods. "You can ask Kenma if the both of them are free."

"Hm. I'll ask then." Kanna then got her phone out and proceeded to type a message to Kenma.

—Hey, Kenma

—Are you free to talk? Keiji and I were wondering about something

She had just pressed send, when she suddenly realized something. "Wait, how did you—"

Only to be cut off by the sound of her phone ringing, indicating an incoming call. She pressed accept, and put it on speaker phone so Akaashi could be included in the conversation as well.

—Call—

"Hello, Kenma?"

"Yes?"

"Ah! Keiji's here with me and we were just wondering if you and Kuroo would be free next week for Kou's birthday?"

"Hmm... That's on Thursday, right?"

"Yes"

"I'd have to ask Kuroo if we have practice on that day. Though I'm sure he'd want to attend, since it is Bokuto's birthday. But we might be late in case we do have practice."

"That's alright Kozume. I'm sure Bokuto-san would be glad with just the mere fact that the two of you are coming to attend." Akaashi interjects.

"I see. Is that all?"

"Yes, thank you so much. I'm sorry if we interrupted anything." Kanna replies in a grateful but apologetic tone.

"Its fine, you didn't. I'll just message you when I have Kuroo's answer."

"Okay! Thank you again! Bye~"

"Hn"

—Call End—

"That went well." Kanna smiles looking towards Akaashi, only to see him staring down at her phone with a contemplative expression.

"Ken-kun?" Akaashi asks, lifting his head up and looking at her highly amused with the unexpected discovery.

"W-h-a-t~" Kanna drawled, looking away from Akaashi in embarrassment.

"Dang it! I was hoping he wouldn't notice it. But of course, he did!" She thought, slightly troubled.

Akaashi merely shook his head in mirth at her denial. "So, plans?"

"Right! Hm~ It's his last birthday before he graduates, so we need to do something a little special. It doesn't have to be big, just, I don't know… memorable?" Kanna vaguely reasons.

"We could have the usual team celebration moved to the morning instead of morning practice. We would have to get the coach's permission, but I'm sure he could make an exception." Akaashi offers.

"That works. You'll inform the rest?" Kanna asks and Akaashi merely takes out his phone to inform the rest of the team the change of plans for the set date.

"Then we'll have a second party in the afternoon, but this time along with Kuroo and Kenma." Kanna confirms, earning a nod from Akaashi.

"…..What else can we add?" She says as she closes her eyes, deep in thought.

"There's that cake shop downtown that does crazy cakes on request, we could ask them to make one." Akaashi proposes, remembering the shop he walks by every day.

"That's… a wonderful idea Keiji! I'm sure he'd be over the moon! We could split the cost once we get all the details down." Kanna sits up and clasps her hands in delight at the proposition.

"We could go there tomorrow after classes, since we don't have practice." Akaashi suggests, to which Kanna nods in approval.

"Hmm…. Presents?" Kanna asks, wondering if she'll even be able to.

"I don't think we'd have enough money to buy him a separate present. I'm sure the cake would cost a lot, it would be customized after all." Akaashi reasons

Kanna shrugs in response. "Knowing him, he'll be happy with just the cake, so we probably don't even need to get him anything more."

Seeming to come to an agreement, they end the planning there. With that they returned to finishing their works in silence.

—~~~— —~~~— —~~~— —~~~— —~~~— —~~~— 

The day is finally here. Kanna, along with the Fukurodani Team (minus Koutarou), woke up extra early to get the gym ready for the celebration. Kanna arrived on school grounds at about the same time as the rest of the guys, who were carrying a couple decorations, as well as a medium sized box of cake. They hurriedly shuffled towards the gym and quickly got started on things, as it was only a matter of time before the guest of honor arrived.

Meanwhile, Koutarou was having a very good morning. Why, you ask. That's because it's his special day.

"Happy~ Birthday~ to~ me~" He sings in his head. If you squint, you'll see the glowing flowery background surrounding him, as he skips down the street with the biggest and dorkiest smile on his face.

As he reached the school grounds, he began to wonder if his team had remembered the special occasion.

"It's my last year… wonder what I should do with the team?" Koutarou thought as he opened the doors of the gym, only to be greeted with a loud.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAPTAIN!"

There the team, plus his cousin, were gathered as a group in the middle of the gym, wide smiles on their faces. A whiteboard covered in decorations was behind them with the words 'Happy Birthday to the Bestest Captain', in front of them was a table with a medium sized chocolate cake with a single lit candle on top, waiting to be blown.

"YOU GUYS~~!" Koutarou exclaimed as he ran up to join the group.

"Oy Oy! Don't get mushy now!" Konoha yelled alarmed at Koutarou as he got close enough to see the glazed eyes of his Captain.

"Come, blow the candle before it melts on the cake." Shirofuku herds, effectively gathering all of their attention.

They sang him a 'Happy Birthday' with Koutarou enthusiastically joining in. He childishly closed his eyes as he made a wish, smiling brightly as he blew the candle. After a round of clapping and another 'happy birthdays', the group happily cut the cake, excited to dig in on the sweet treat.

Koutarou looked on fondly at every single one of them, saving to memory every single smiling face. He really was glad to have been a part of this team. And he wouldn't trade them for the world. With a big bright smile on his face, he joins in on indulging himself with the chocolate cake in his hand.

—~~~— —~~~— —~~~— —~~~— —~~~— —~~~— 

That afternoon, Akaashi walked with Koutarou back to his house, making sure to keep the older male distracted to not question anything. Though it was proving to be an even easier task than he had anticipated, as Koutarou was much too engrossed in his good mood and was continuously blabbering about to notice anything amiss. Like his currently absent cousin.

Kanna had left early to pick up the cake and prepare for the second part of their surprise, Akaashi only hoped that he was able to stall enough time for her to finish. Nonetheless, Akaashi was thankful as they arrived at the Older Bokuto's household without a hitch.

They walked up to the house, with Koutarou opening the door and greeting in his usual highly enthusiastic way.

"We're home!"

With Akaashi quietly voicing an almost nonexistent, "Excuse me for the intrusion."

"Welcome Home! We're in the kitchen dear!" His mom answers back in the same volume.

They took their shoes off and made their way to the kitchen to be greeted by the two women of the family busy cooking, Koutarou and Kanna's moms.

"Kou-kun! There's the birthday boy! Or should I call you birthday Man~" Kanna's mom exclaims teasingly, causing a loud and jolly laugh to burst from the aforementioned male.

"Hello Keiji-kun, so nice of you to join us again." Koutarou's mom greets with a smile, earning her a respectful nod from the raven-head.

"Kanna-chan's not here?" Koutarou asked as he looked around not noticing any sign of his cousin.

"Oh, she went out to buy matches, saying we ran out. She should be back any minute now." Kanna's mom answers as she goes back to preparing and plating the food.

"Oh—" Koutarou began only to be cut off by the doorbell ringing.

*Ding Dong~*

Koutarou looked questioningly at his mom and aunt, and lastly Akaashi. He knew it wasn't Kanna as she wouldn't have any need to ring the bell, so he wondered if they were expecting anyone. The three only gestured for him to go on ahead and open the door. Shrugging as he complied, Koutarou made his way towards the door. He opened it to see Kuroo and Kenma in front of him, causing him to exclaim.

"Bro!"

And Kuroo answered in equal enthusiasm. "Bro!"

"Bro!"

"Bro!"

This went on for a minute or two, before Kuroo decided to break it.

"Happy Birthday!" Kuroo says.

"Hahahaha! Thanks!" Koutarou chuckles in response, as he ushers Kuroo in so he can close the door behind him. "Come in! Come in!"

Only to freeze along with Kuroo once they turned around. There was Kenma, out of his shoes, looking at them, waiting.

Kuroo recovered first and broke the silence. "Kenma? When did you get there?"

"When you were having your idiotic moment." Kenma deadpanned. He'd sidestepped and chose to ignore the duo sharing a single brain cell, in favor of stepping inside and out of the cold night air.

Koutarou merely shrugged and ushered the two along. "Come, they're in the kitchen."

"Mom! Kuroo and Kenma are here!" He yelled as he skipped in front of the two.

"Hello! Excuse us for the intrusion." Kuroo greets as they came into view, Kenma bows in greeting to the group.

Kenma scans the room and notices Akaashi along with two older women, one who he knows to be the older Bokuto's mom. He glances to the other and thinks. "….she must be Kanna's mom."

"Hello boys! Thank you for coming." Koutarou's mom greets back to the two with a smile.

"Oh! Hello there, I don't believe we've met before?" Kanna's mom looks curiously between the two, making Kenma twitch.

"Aunty, this is my bestest bro Kuroo and this is his childhood friend Kenma. Guys this is my Aunt Kumiko, Kanna-chan's mom." Koutarou introduces, gesturing to each person as he named them.

"Kuroo Tetsurou, Nice to meet you Kumiko-san!" Kuroo respectfully bows.

"Kozume Kenma." Kenma softly says, bowing along with Kuroo.

"So this is him…" Kumiko thought with a warm smile.

"Not much of a talker, are you. Well that's alright, my dear Kanna's the same with people she just met. Nice to meet the both of you too! Thank you for looking out for my baby at the training camp." She nonchalantly waves her hand and fixes the two with a grateful smile.

"It was nothing, Kumiko-san! If anything we should be the ones who are thankful, as she helped us. Speaking of which, where is the little owl?" Kuroo respectfully answers, and wonders as he hasn't seen the younger Bokuto anywhere.

"She stepped out for a bit, she should be back—" Kumiko explains only to be cut off by a loud yell.

"I'm back!" Kanna exclaims, the door closing shut behind her.

"I got the—" She started, but cut herself as she came into view and saw the new additional people.

"Kenma!" She says with a wide smile.

As their eyes locked, the visible change in the male didn't escape those watching the two. He might've been facing away from the group, but they could clearly see how he was much more relaxed than when he first arrived.

"Kuroo-san! You guys made it!" She continues as she turns to the taller male.

"Of course, wouldn't miss it for the world." Kuroo replies with a chuckle at the enthusiasm, and secretly at how Kenma reacted to Kanna's arrival.

"She still calls me with a '-san' though..." He inwardly sighs. "Guess she's not that comfortable with me yet."

"Did you find some, dear?" Her mom interrupts.

"I did!" She answers, brandishing the box of matches in her hand "Let's start?"

"Alright then, Kou-kun close your eyes." Koutarou's mom orders with a clap of her hands.

Koutarou follows, eagerly waiting. Kanna nudges Akaashi and gestures towards the other room for help with the cake. He walks over with her and lifts the cake, with Kanna's guidance, he carefully places it on the table along with the others. Kanna lifts off the covering, causing Kuroo to whistle and Kenma to widen his eyes.

Kuroo's whistle, of course, caused Koutarou to fuss. "What?! What?! I wanna see~!"

"Shh! We're almost done." Kanna remarks as she carefully places the candle on top and lights it. "Okay, done!"

Koutarou opens his eyes and glows—literally glows—in utter delight as he joyfully cheers in happiness. There, in front of him, was the coolest cake he has ever seen. It was an owl cake, but most of all, A Horned Owl cake in his likeness.

"THIS—IT'S— IT'S—WAAAA~!" Koutarou sobbed as he fussed over the cake. Everybody laughed at the birthday boy's antics.

"Alright enough of that, dry your tears Kou-kun and blow the candle or else the it'll melt on the cake." His mom playfully chides.

Koutarou reigns in his composure and closes his eyes to make a wish, before he opens them and blows on the candle. Afterwards, the two ladies ushers the group of teenagers for a picture, laughing at Koutarou's snot and tear stained face.

They all sat down to eat, saying thank you to the two lovely women who prepared everything. A little while after, they were joined by Koutarou's Father who had just gotten off of work. They laughed as Kumiko-san scolded her brother for being late to his own son's birthday party, but it was all in good fun. After the meal, the adults ushered the group into the living room as they cleaned up, refusing help along the way. The five of them sat around the living room as Kuroo presented him his gift.

"My Dude, My Man, My Bro…" Kuroo started, earning groans from three individuals at the side, which he pointedly ignored.

"Kenma and I pitched in to get you this extra special birthday present. And I know you'll love it, so here you go!" He finishes as he hands Koutarou the wrapped present.

Koutarou eagerly rips it open and he beams. Kuroo and Kenma had gifted him a pair of Kneepads. But not just any old pair of kneepads. It was a pair of Owl Kneepads. He laughed and glomped Kuroo, spluttering his many thanks with a big smile on his face.

Meanwhile, Akaashi's eyes twitched in slight irritation, already picturing the impending chaos he'll have to deal with at practice with the addition that's bound to double—if not triple—his Captain's already boundless enthusiasm. Kanna sweat dropped at Akaashi's expression, while Kenma merely looked on unbothered.

"Why, did you agree to that?" Akaashi sighed exasperated, looking at Kenma with a betrayed expression.

"It's what he wanted to get. Kuroo said he found it a while back but didn't have enough money to buy it. So when I proposed on pitching in for a birthday present for Bokuto, he jumped on the opportunity." Kenma shrugged, pointedly ignoring the light glare he was receiving from the taller male.

Kuroo, Kenma and Akaashi didn't stay for long as it was getting late and they all had to take a couple of train rides back, not to mention they still had school early the next day. They all said their thanks to the Bokuto family, and excused themselves. Kumiko-san offered to drive them to the station on their way home, they wanted to refuse, but ultimately they couldn't decline Kanna's mom. So they all piled into Kumiko's car with Kanna on the passenger seat, and the trio at the back.

As Koutarou, his mom and dad, waved watching the car pull out of the drive way. Koutarou began to ponder, he really was blessed. The three years in Fukuroudani had been nothing but wonderful, but this had been the best year out of all for him. And that was because finally. Finally. He'd get to see Kanna, his precious baby cousin, genuinely smile and be happy again.

"Thank you all so much!"

Notes:

Happy Holidays Everyone! Also Happy Birthday Month for our very own Bokuto-Handler who-needs-more-appreciation-and-recognition-for-his-efforts, President Akaashi Keiji!

Here is the b-day special for Bokuto I have promised. I hope you all liked it! The next one (On New Year's) would be Kenma's, please do look forward to that as well.

Please Meet Kanna's mom, Bokuto Kumiko (OC). She's got the signature energetic personality of a Bokuto, and the brains Kanna inherited. She's has no partner and happily enjoying life (not a lot of people are capable of handling a Bokuto, especially a smart one). She's best friends with Akaashi, and regularly gets updates on her baby's recent development (who is clueless).

Once again, I got carried away while writing this chapter. This is by far the longest chapter I have done (so far). But I sure did enjoy myself while writing it, so...

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