#i hope y’all eat this up for breakfast lunch and dinner

[brassknucklespeirs]

Sʟᴇᴇᴘ Hᴀᴘᴘʏ [Rᴏɴᴀʟᴅ Sᴘᴇɪʀs x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

Genre: Flufffffff

Warning: Depiction of sleeping issues derived from PTSD, mention of clearly crappy mental health, mentions of warfare

Prompt: Request by @softguarnere​ “ If your requests are still open, I was wondering if I could request some sleepy speirs content? 💕 Thank you!!”

There had been three strikes before she was out. Three seperate instances that led to her demise. The first one, in her defence, was a complete and utter accident, an unforeseeable motion she couldn’t control. The second one, well, that one was not so much. And don’t even get me started on how purposeful the third one was. And the two things every strike had in common, one of which needs a ‘DO NOT TOUCH’ sign to be hung from it so she’d restrain herself?

Ronald-freaking-Speirs and sleeping.

The scene leading up to the first time was reasonably simple. She had been given all she could have dreamed for that night; a roof over her head and four solid walls keeping the frigid wind from tickling her flushed cheeks, a warm fire chasing the cold air away and a little bit of peace and quiet. Before then she’d even had a delicate chorus of a nuns’ choir lulling her muscles to rest a little. It was unfortunate, however, that the relaxation of the woman’s body did little to help the calming of her fast-paced mind from the storm that blew within. The constant need to glance over her shoulders or to jolt awake whenever she nodded off for a second was driving Y/N’s exhaustion to an all time high. She’d be lucky if she’d been getting a couple of hours sleep a day at that rate during and after the battle with the unforgiving terrain of the forests of Bastogne. So with the taking of Foy, the company had found themselves in a church in Rachamp, complete with hot food and a warm place to sleep for the night. With this in mind, Y/N had assumed she’d be given the chance to just that, sleep for the night. At first, this didn’t seem to be the case.

Most of the men had settled down for the night along the floor of the church with the bedding given to them by the nuns as well as their own slipped tightly around their bodies. The only ones that hadn’t had been the one’s who were tucked away at the CP, keeping an eye out for their pals while they slept somewhat soundly. Not Y/N either. Even given the chance to sleep for at least a planned six hours, Y/n’s mind had been running double time to stop that from happening. It was the slight pull in her chest mixed with the occasional prickling of her skin that she felt as she sat leaning against the back of the church pew she’d claimed as her own. The constant need to check her surroundings left her with tired eyes roving slowly around the room every 10 or so minutes as she chased the feeling of safety like a distant dream that was fading quickly into reality. 

Previously frozen fingers gripped lightly at the fraying edges of the blanket that had been place gently over her shoulders by one of the nuns, her body soaking up the extra comfort of warmth, even if it didn’t completely stop the anxiety from resting in her veins. The snores and deep breathing of the men she called brothers also set a flame of comfort in her heart to warm her cold bones but even then, it wasn’t quite enough to let her settle. 

Dim candlelight flicked within the church, setting a cast of light across her face as she turned her head slowly to the opening door. A chill licked up her spine as the wind managed a quick sprint to her before it had been promptly shut back out again. She became aware of a presence that had placed itself down beside her a little slower than she would have liked but she prided herself in identifying the man as soon as she’d clicked to his sudden appearance.

“I’m surprised you’re still awake Lieutenant L/N. But while I have you here, I’d like to go over a few thoughts with you.” He said in such a firm, authoritative voice that the tired woman could only react with a nod of confirmation as he pulled out several maps to talk over. She tried to pay attention as he pointed out specific plans and how they’d work well but her focus on the maps was slipping by the minute, which embarrassingly had not been the first time it had happened while receiving a talk from Ronald Speirs. Her eyes had trailed over the hand that stayed pointed at the map before following the sleeve of his shirt, over the curve of his shoulder to look at his face. While he talked, she’d watched the muscles contract under his jaw and traced the dark shadow of exhaustion that also lay under his eyes. With the low whisper of his voice, Y/N’s brain started to fog, her vision following not far behind. She could feel as her mind gave in to her body level of relaxation, though this time she did not jolt with the prickling of her skin or clench of her chest. The woman gave in to the safety blanket of comfort that the man beside her had brought with his presence slowly but surely as she was lulled to sleep by his trailing voice. 

It took Captain Speirs a minute or two to realise the state of exhaustion his companion had let herself slip into, until he felt a sensation of pressure on his shoulder that caused him to look down at her. Y/N had managed to fall asleep under the comfort of the man that was her commanding officer as she curled into his side, with her head tucked gently onto his shoulder. And for reasons no one would know of or witness but him, he let her, even letting a small smile of amusement slip onto his lips as he moved himself to offer her a more comfortable position to sleep in. It wasn’t long before he too felt himself succumbing to sleep, his eyelids drooping down over his dark eyes several times until they closed completely while his head had unintentionally come to rest lightly upon hers. The two officers had welcomed the calming touch of another beside them as they slept, even if it had only been for four or so hours before they both awoke to prepare before their men rose.

As I said before; reasonably simple.

The second time had been only a distant dream in her mind, just a silly little idea that had fluttered its way into her wandering thoughts a little to many time since the incident in the church.

It was late when the two had stumbled up the stairs, the sun resting while the moon illuminated the snow covered streets, much like it had the night before. Y/N huffed a mock sigh of frustration as the grown man beside her had leant some of his unsteady weight on her, grabbing one of his arms to throw over her shoulder. Ron chuckled tiredly while applying a little more weight jokingly, causing her to stumble which had been followed quickly by a threatening glare. 

“You’re being a pain in the ass, Sir. I’m just trying to help drag your sorry-ass to bed before you work yourself to death.”

“I didn’t ask for your help Lieutenant, you did that all by yourself. And how many times do I gotta tell you, it’s Ron to you.” The woman rolled her eyes as he spoke in his usual firm voice though she could see the glint of humour in his tired eyes. She admired the way they shone even in his state of exhaustion, a trait she hoped she could mirror though she wasn’t so sure that was indeed how she looked at all. She’d also envied the way his hair had fallen so perfectly over his forehead and she could imagine the amount of times he’d sat running his fingers through his hair in frustration after last night’s prisoner snatch patrol across the river. She had imagined that the appearance of a mirror would be cruel to her as she stood beside him with her helmet messy hair falling from its braids, and clouded eyes. What she imagined and what the tired man beside her thought were two very different things, however. He had not been able to stop glancing at her, his worn out state causing his focus to go at even the slightly distraction. But to him, she’d always been a distraction even when not tired; a big distraction. Through hazy, slightly squinted eyes, he took in the way she seemed to glow in the natural moonlight that shone through the windows, the way her hair, though messy, had framed her face just right to express the hard working and strong woman he’d felt himself pulled towards.

“If that’s so then it’s only right to say it’s Y/N to you.” She’d replied as they made their way into his room, her hands moving to give him a gentle shove to the bed. “Now you better go to sleep or so help me I’ll be talking to Winters about it and we both know you don’t want to upset our mother hen.” She’d teased before swiftly turning to leave the room. Ron watched her with those squinted eyes before calling out to her and raising his boot sloppily off the side of the bed.

“I’m asking for help now Y/N.” He’d mocked before giving his foot a shake, his head flopping back onto the bed tiredly. The woman huffed at the dark haired man before she stomped back over and begun to undo the man’s laces. She’d taken a minute to slip both boots off his feet, throwing the blanket over them as she finished. She pretended to tuck him in with amusement painted across her features.

“You’d better be happy with the service. I recon it’s 5 sta-“ Y/N stopped suddenly when she’d glanced up at the man’s resting face and noticed the gentle rise and fall of his chest. The great Ronald Speirs had fallen asleep with one of his platoon leaders pulling the boots off his feet. What would the men think about this? The thought wasn’t processed more than just the throw away comment made under her breath as she moved to sit herself on the bed so she could remove the tightened belt of webbing that held his canteens to his waist off. After placing it quietly on the ground as to not startle the man awake, she had glanced back at him again. She admired him as she had while helping him up the stairs, however, this time she was seeing an even softer version of him. The admirable man she’d led up the stairs seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, the strain being seen across his brow as it creased. The sleeping man before her was different, his shoulders relaxed and his face youthful as his eyelashes fluttered slightly with every breath he took.

She had felt it coming this time, much more than she had last time. One could say she had warning, and one could definitely say she completely ignored that. Her choice being that she would not make the trek to her own bedroom just downstairs and instead found herself slipping into sleep splayed out beside one Ronald Speirs. That one choice led to the best nights sleep that either of them had had in a long time, a idea which they had sheepishly shared to each other the next morning as she had woken up with his arm draped over her waist. Guess it was a day dream brought to life after all.

Now, the third time you ask? Oh god, the third time. 

The war was almost at its end, they could both feel it even if they were still told to standby for the Pacific. But the war had been long and Y/N was tired.

The dynamic between Y/N and Ron had shifted slightly since that night in Hagenau, if the softened eyes and closer proximity had been enough to speak for themselves. It was clear to them that they’d both been trying to make it happen again, with the constant question of ‘when will you be finished’ was passed between them almost every day. It was unfortunate that the circumstances had kept them from each other as one was often asleep while the other worked, or how she was often needed within her platoon’s housing to stay to coordinate her boys.

Tonight, however, had worked in their favour. Ron had left only an hour or so prior to the woman as she finished up with a debrief had between her and her sergeant, Johnny Martin. When asked by said man whether she was coming to bed soon, she had shaken her head ‘no’ and made up some silly excuse to having more work to do for the night. Martin shook his head at the woman yet a small smile on his lips told her it was an action of affection and not distaste.

“Well you make sure you look after yourself ma’am. Don’t work too hard, you need your sleep too.” The man gave Y/N a gentle pat on her shoulder as he passed her to head out the door. She continued to stand there for a few seconds more after she’d heard it close gently before she let a dragged breath leave her mouth.

“I do need my sleep.” She muttered to herself, her feet immediately moving to take her towards the housing she knew Ron was staying in. It didn’t take her long to reach his door, her feet dragging behind her with every step she took. She didn’t even bother knocking as she opened the door and stepping into the room before firmly closing it once more. The presence of the moon was once again seen as it shone directly onto the resting figure from the window across from the bed. His skin almost glowed from the white light that illuminated his skin and Y/N could feel her stomach clench at the sight of him. He lay on his stomach, with both arms tucked under the pillow his head rested on and his face turned towards her. His hair fell the same way it did the second time, so messy yet so beautiful.

His fingers twitched suddenly, the arm closest to her coming to stretch across the blanket. She glanced at his face once more only to realise she’d been caught admiring the man as she saw his eyes barely squinted open enough to see. With not a single uttering of a word, his outstretched fingers grasped at blanket before lifting it in her direction. She had understood the simple action, taking several steps forward while removing her dress uniform to expose her PT kit beneath, then jumping several step to pull her boots of quickly. By the time she had gotten herself ready for bed she was directly in front of him and had all but launched herself into Ron’s outstretched arms. He was as warm and comforting as she remembered and the woman couldn’t stop the sign of contentment that left her lips as she snuggled her face into the crook of his neck. He smiled down at her before pressing his nose into her hair and gently inhaling the calming scent of the woman he’d grown so fond of.

“Thank god you’re here.” He’d whispered groggily into her hair. “I couldn’t fucking sleep.” The comment made her smile.

“Well Ron, now you can sleep happy.” She’d replied, her warm breath travelling over the exposed skin of his neck and jaw. They had curled into each other so naturally, neither feeling more at ease in recent years than they had right then and there. He’d smiled with closed eyes and let a quiet chuckle out, his fingers rubbing gentle circles into the skin covering her hipbones in an absentminded action of adoration.

“Yeah, I can sleep happy indeed.”

So as I said, there had been three strikes before she was out. Three seperate instances that led to her demise. The first one, in her defence, was a complete and utter accident, an unforeseeable motion she couldn’t control. The second one, well, that one was not so much. And don’t even get me started on how purposeful that third one was. Her demise, of course, was love, but for the opportunity to sleep soundly in Ronald Speirs’ arms just one more time, she’d let love wreck her.

[writingsbychlo]

SWEET LIKE SUGAR | (05)

summary; azriel is away on a mission, and you get an unexpected visitor. when he returns, you also get an unexpected surprise.

word count; 5988

notes; fun fact!! I got confused about which part I was on because I actually forgot all about the events of this part and started writing for part six before realising!! also the way this is months late... my bad, y’all. 

Slumping a little further in the plush seat, your eyes scanned across the page before you for the fourth time. Finally, you’d settled on a book, after procrastinating it all morning. Then, you’d put it off with the excuse of cooking breakfast and eating, making a cup of tea… and then another. 

The house felt too big, too quiet, too light without shadows crawling in every corner. 

Azriel had been gone since yesterday morning, your first overnight alone without him as he did Cauldron knew what, Cauldron knows where, out in the world. He’d left early yesterday morning while you had still been asleep, waking you with a hand shaking your shoulder gently before the sun had even risen. Dressed in those same dark leathers, strapped head-to-toe with weapons, he’d mumbled about some sudden work from Rhys, and that explanation, along with a delicate kiss on your forehead, had been all you’d gotten. 

It had half felt like some kind of odd dream, until you’d woken up, and the house had been far too still without his presence. 

He was due back tonight, and you were holding onto that, attempting to focus back on your book. Three hours. Only forty pages in. 

You’d hardly made it two more pages, before there were footsteps on the creaky porch, your heart rate shooting through the roof, and a knock. A knock. Azriel wouldn't knock on his own front door. Matter of fact, Azriel would have likely just winnowed right to the door, not walked up the porch. 

On light steps, hoping whoever was on the other side couldn't hear you, you peeked up through the hole in the door, noting Elain standing on the other side. You barely knew her, recognising her only from the first dinner you’d shared with Azriel’s family, heart leaping into your throat at the sight of her. 

Clicking the door open after only a second or two of hesitation, she offered a beaming smile when your eyes met. 

“Hello, Elain.”

“You remember my name!” Her smile somehow only stretched wider, and it was like the sun itself seemed to get brighter as she did. You wanted to scoff. Did it just do that, or was Lucien out there somewhere, glowing every time she smiled? 

“Uh… Azriel isn’t here.”

“I know.” She waved a hand, as though that was supposed to be obvious in some way, following it up with a giggle. You wracked your brain, stumbling over every piece of information Azriel had given you on them all over the last couple of weeks. Seer. Elain was a seer. Had she seen Azriel leave and chosen this moment to approach you? “I’m here to see you.”

Apparently so. “Why?”

“I was thinking we could go for a walk in the public gardens together.”

“Why?” The word spilt out again, and she laughed, cocking her head to the side. “I’m, sorry, I don’t— I don’t mean to sound so rude. This situation is just unexpected, that’s all.”

“I know. I would have come sooner, but I was waiting for Azriel to be gone because he’s been playing defence about who gets to see you and when. He growled at Rhysand last week for asking how things were going.” Your stomach flipped at that, flopping in on itself and you rubbed a hand over your ribs slowly, hoping to steady the beating of your heart. “I’m not here for Rhysand, just to be clear. I’m not here for anyone, not even Az. I’m here for me, because I’d like to get to know you.”

“You want to get to know me?”

“Of course. You’re going to be around for a while—”

“I am?” She merely hummed, brows raising a little as humour shone in those doe-eyes, and your cheeks heated. “Seer, right. Of course. Do you want to come in for lunch or something, then?”

“I was thinking we could go for a picnic.” Nudging one delicately slippered foot out from under the hem of her dress, she nudged a picnic basket at her feet with her toes, and you shifted nervously from foot to foot. “It’s a nice day, and the Velaris Gardens are just beautiful. I volunteer sometimes, and I must say, the flowers this year are breathtaking.”

“Alright,” She was like a puppy, someone you just couldn't say no to when she stared at you with those big brown eyes, only seeming to light up more when you finally agreed. Leaving her standing on the porch for no more than a few minutes, you marked the page in your book, swapped out your loungewear for a summer dress and some sandals, and grabbed your keys. 

She had been right, the two of you were barely more than a few steps down the sidewalks before the golden rays of the sun truly began to soak into your skin, warming you. It was a lovely day. Hopefully, the sun was shining on Azriel too, wherever he was.

The streets of Velaris were crowded as the pair of you ventured closer to the busier parts of the city, your workplace was packed full, the tables outside almost overflowing, and one of the waitresses you’d come to know waved as you passed by, flustered and carrying a tray of drinks. 

Children were playing in the streets, darting from one side to another. Adults were wandering, lovers arm in arms, and friends gossiping. Here you were, wandering alongside Elain, who was humming a tune gently to herself under her breath. Only once you had entered the gardens, the kind old man at the front gate greeting Elain with a smile and a hug, did she speak up once again. 

Her tune came to an end as the two of you were walking down the main pathway, weeping willows curtaining on either side, birds chirping overhead and fluttering between branches in the trees. 

“I'm happy Azriel has you, you know.”

“You might be the only one.” Your words were bitter, harsh, and you wanted to bite them back in, still not entirely sure where you stood with Elain or to what extent you could trust her, but she only laughed again. “Apologies, that was…”

“Don’t worry.” That casual hand wave again, the metal bracelets on her wrist clinking as she did. One held a sun, another with a moon, a third gold band with an orange gem, and a fourth with a metal tag on a leather band, an engraving too small to make out. “Although, it’s not true. Nesta talks very fondly of you, and while Feyre might not speak up as often, she does not approve of the way Rhysand treats you.”

“Nesta is great. I shouldn’t have said that. And of course, I was out of turn to imply anything at all about the High Lord and Lady. I do—”

“Please, none of those formalities.” She stopped suddenly at the end of the pathway, aiming to turn neither left nor right, but instead stepping out onto the large field before you both, wildflowers cropping up, wandering across the soft ground and leaving you to trail through the grass behind her. “Rhysand can be a stubborn arse when he chooses to be, and Cassian is merely being bull-headed. Mor could be a swaying hand if she chose to, but she’s actively staying out of it, to let things play out on their own. Amren is… well, Amren.”

She had managed to coax a laugh from you, despite your wary mood, and she seemed to stand a little taller at the triumph. Finally finding a spot she liked and placing the basket down, Elain opened it up to pull out a blanket, flapping it out into the light breeze and laying it on the ground slowly. She sat on it, patting the space beside her for you to sit on, and opening the basket only when you had. 

“I brought several sandwiches, because I wasn’t sure which you’d enjoy.” She began to unstack each labelled and wrapped meal portion, laying them out around you both until the blanket was covered in food and treats, a wine glass in your hand as Elain filled it with bubbling grape juice. “I try not to drink as much these days.”

It seemed the two of you had moved on from whatever conversation you’d been having, and no matter how much you wanted to circle back around to it, it felt rude to do so when she was clearly leading the chat. She was rubbing a hand over her stomach with contemplation, and you swirled the bubbly drink in your glass. “Are you… are you trying for a baby?”

Her hair glinted in the sun as she tipped her head back, eyes closed and smiling at the sky. “We’re thinking about it. Nothing concrete yet, but, I know Lucien desires children. I do too. We aren’t putting any kind of timeframes on anything, but we’re getting into some good habits and lifestyle changes now.”

“I wish you both the best of luck,” 

She only hummed, again, a contemplative sound that seemed so wrapped up in mysterious and knowledge that it made your skin itch. To distract yourself, you took a sip of your drink, eyes scanning over the food options before you as she sighed and pulled herself back from whatever thoughts she had lost herself in. “My happiness with my mate now is so much due to Azriel.”

It was like a ball, bouncing back and forth between the walls, getting faster and faster as she whipped from the topic of Azriel to anything else, like she couldn't decide between acknowledging the elephant in the room or ignoring it. 

“I’m happy he has you.”

“So you’ve said.” You smirk, settling on a sandwich at last and unwrapping it. 

“There was a while when I thought I might be his happy ending, and he might be mine.” Your chewing slowed, and your focus fixed on her. You weren’t sure why she was saying these things, revealing things about his past or her own, whether it was some kind of game or not. She seemed to read all of this on your face, sitting up more fully to face you, legs crossing before her. “He never fought for me the same way he fights for you, though. Like he can’t help himself. What we had was hidden away and sneaking around in the dark. It was wrong for us both, I see that in hindsight, but with you, he doesn’t hide you. It’s like he wants the whole world to know you’re at his side.”

The food was like trying to swallow a mouthful of cottonwool, choking it down dry and wincing. “I don’t think what we have is the same. What you had must’ve been… well, like a real relationship. You do understand what me and Az have is more like an agreement, right?”

“Are all relationships not just agreements to be together, monogamously?”

You sipped at your drink, buying time to find a reply as she tucked into her own food, surely knowing she’d won this round. “Relationships are different.”

“In what way?”

“In every way!” You said, and she still only managed to look mildly amused, waiting for you to go on. “Relationships shouldn’t start the way ours did, for the intent of mutual benefit and gain. They’re supposed to be about passion and feelings and connection.”

“And do you not have passion, or feelings, for Azriel? Is there no connection?”

“What we have is complicated.” You didn’t know how to define it at all, everything that was shifting and changing so thoroughly was enough to make your head spin, and her mumble only confirmed that she knew she had the upper hand here. “How did Azriel help you to find Lucien if you were… together?”

“Oh, no, we were never together. We snuck around at night and shared heated looks across the dining room table. I wanted to choose my own path for once, not the one everyone was telling me I should be on. The one that led to Lucien. And Azriel, well, he just wanted someone. I wasn’t the right someone, I was just there.” That didn’t answer your question, not at all, but it seemed that if you were going to get the reply you wanted, it was in return for listening to the whole story. “We had stolen moments in dark corners, and Rhysand warned us off one another, put a stop to what likely would have ended in tragedy.”

“Seems like the High Lord is fond of telling Azriel who he can and cannot be with.”

“He had a sister once, you know.” The words struck cold, and you stiffened. Of course, you knew. Everyone in Prythian knew. Had heard of the tragedy before the first war, when the Lord of Night had lost his wife and daughter, leaving only the Prince who would soon take the throne. “She fell in love with someone who she shouldn’t have, someone who betrayed her in the end,”

“Should you be telling me this?”

“—and it broke him for so long. I had no idea about any of this until Feyre told me. He watched his sister get her heart broken before she lost her life, and watched his mate fall for Tamlin and get hurt. He watched Mor hide such an important part of herself and get hurt for centuries. He even watched Lucien pine for me while I was too blind to see him. He has watched love break and harm over the years, watched people abuse those feelings and use them for their own gain. He knows that need for touch more than anyone, and knows the price companionship can cost.”

“Elain,” The food was beginning to taste like ash, this was becoming more of a petition than a chat. “I understand that. I know he’s suffered too, I know he’s felt pain, and I’m sorry for that. But that doesn’t excuse him for his cruelty. It doesn’t excuse him for stopping Azriel from finding happiness. He cannot control everyone around him, no matter whether his intentions are good or not. Other people’s happiness is not his responsibility, and not his right. What, only mates are allowed to be together? Do you know how rare it is to find your mate? Azriel has waited five hundred years, he may never find his mate, but does that mean he should never be allowed to know happiness because Rhysand decrees it?”

She stared at you, lips pursed for a long moment, considering all that you had said. And then, instead of getting angry, or yelling, or defending them further, she smiled. She nodded her head and something passed over her face that you couldn't possibly decipher. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Azriel would have fought for me, if I had asked him to. I’m sure I could have put up a fuss about it, but when he was told to stop, he did. That rejection…”

“Led you to Lucien?”

“Gods, no. It made me so angry. Azriel just rolled over and showed his belly because Rhysand snarled. I was mad, beyond words!” Your laughter broke free, surprising you both, until you were laughing together amongst the flowers. “He would barely look at me, wouldn't talk to me at all if not for polite dinner conversation. I’d gone from someone he’d feel up in dark corners to acting like I had a disease!”

“That’s awful!”

“I know! So, I wanted out. I was so stifled. I managed to persuade Rhysand to send me to the Human Lands for a while, to track down some information. Except, of course, I couldn't go alone. I needed an escort, and who better than the Emissary to the Human Lands?”

“This was Lucien?”

“Mhm.” She rolled her eyes, slipping away into her memories, a smile forming on her face. “Gods, he drove me insane. He was there all the time when I’d just been pulled from the Cauldron, like a lost puppy. So full of adoration and love. I was expecting that, but that’s not the Lucien who showed up. The one who showed up was so… nonchalant. Like the bond between us didn’t exist, we were friends, more like mere partners on a task. I even made a drunken move on him one night in a gross tavern far from The Wall, and he turned me down! Put me to bed and left a glass of water on the nightstand for me. Acted like it never happened in the morning.”

“Oh, Gods…” Your snicker bought you a mock glare from the flowery female beside you.

“I was even angrier, then. It was like nobody wanted me! So, when I returned, I gave Azriel a piece of my mind. And he let me yell at him for twenty minutes. And then awkwardly held me while I cried for another twenty.”

“Does this story have a happy ending? Well, I guess I know it does,” You offered her stomach a pointed look, “But when do we get there?”

“Fine, fine,” She rolled her own eyes now, “To keep it short, Azriel then offered to help me with Lucien. Managed to trick Lucien into going on our first date, a blind-date set-up, and wouldn't let him leave when he tried to. He then continued to help me sneak around with Lucien behind everybody’s backs, until we were ready to come out with it.”

“When was that?”

“Two weeks before we got married.” You fell to your back, laughter like light spilling from you at that, and she continued to share the details of everyone’s reactions through giggles of her own. “I’d seen all their responses, and I wanted to avoid them as long as possible! That was the last time I ignored my visions to try and put them off. What I see will happen, it's only a matter of time. I can’t avoid it.”

“That must suck for surprise parties and gifts.”

“Maybe, but it was pretty good to see you coming.” She smiled, laying herself down beside you and staring up at the sky overhead. “We will be good friends, you and I. I’ve seen that too.”

You were preparing dinner when you finally heard Azriel arrive. The scuff of his boots on the porch, the rustle of his wings as he entered the house, and then—

Then the slam of the front door. So loud and violent that the house shook a little, trembling the trinkets in the hall that sat on the side unit. You tensed, hearing his loud huff of frustration. Shadows whipped and whirled through the house, a few even making it as far as you were in the kitchen, and you followed them, peeping around the threshold before they were all snapped back in a hurry to their owner. 

You saw his retreating back, stomping up the stairs of the house, tense lines and rigid muscles, disappearing in a dark cloud from sight. Another slam made you jump, one of the upstairs doors closing with a bang. 

Silence filled the house once again, far heavier and more tense than it previously had been, and you worried your lower lip between your teeth. 

It didn't feel like you were welcome, like perhaps this was a moment you shouldn't intrude on. But, was this not part of the reason that Azriel had brought you here in the first place? To comfort him, and be his support?

Minutes ticked by as you contemplated the matter, before deciding that at least checking in on him couldn't hurt. If he wanted alone time, he’d say that, and you’d happily give it to him. The idea of leaving him alone in his suffering created a phantom pain in your chest, spurring you up the stairs and on a search for him. 

He wasn’t hard to find, darkness flicking around the doorway of the office, idle shadows striking like dark lightning bolts in the air as you opened the door, only to find Azriel hunched over his desk, wings tense behind his body. 

“Hi, Az. It’s good to have you home.”

He only murmured, a vague noise, not even lifting his head from his work as you stood in the doorway. You paced a little further inside, standing by his desk, hoping to catch a glance of those pretty caramel eyes, but he kept his head down. His pen never stopped moving across the paper, his shadows never stopped their stormy swirling. 

“I’m going to start making dinner soon, if you want to come down?” He didn’t reply, just a grunt, and you gave up, despite the worry filling you from head to toe. “Alright, well, you know where to find me.”

With that, you left, a pulse of power following you from the room within as soon as you clicked the door shut, back pressed to the wood on the other side. With a couple of deep breaths, you steadied yourself. It was only a matter of time before something came up, everything had been going too smoothly, too perfectly to last. Azriel was bound to snap under all that pressure at some point, and if this was that snap, you could handle it. 

Setting a chicken off to roast only took a couple of minutes, basted and seasoned and into the oven, enough of a distraction to pull your thoughts away from the warrior upstairs. It was as you were chopping vegetables that your mind wandered back, the mind-numbing task of slicing peppers and carrots made it easy for your thoughts to trail back to Azriel.

Still, he had not emerged. Not for food, or water, or even some space from that office. 

Setting the table didn’t help to distract you either, laying down plates and cutlery and glasses, choosing a bottle of wine and setting it out to air, even going so far as to set down some candles, searching for matches to light them. The house was all but vibrating with power not, steady thumps that occasionally jostled the cutlery on the table with powerful bursts. 

Whatever had happened today had Azriel so riled up that his power was all but leaking out, siphons doing little to control the feelings welling inside him now. You’d never known the true strength of his power. Of course, you’d heard of the High Lord’s brothers, the spymaster and the warlord, the three champions of a lethal death-match among young soldiers, who’d come out bonded stronger than ever, with power to match. 

Never, though, did you expect to feel the power like this. Feel his emotions ricocheting off of every wall, bouncing through the foundations of the house. Suddenly, it dawned on you just how mighty the ranks of the Night Court truly were, a chill settling into your bones at the thought.

One bad mod, one temper tantrum, and the building could simply crumble to dust. Street lamps would flicker, and animals would scatter. Too many thoughts, too much and all of it became overwhelming as the house continued to tremble to the steady pattern of a heartbeat. 

Blowing out the candles as the flames flickered precariously once again, you put them away, not daring to risk them tipping over and creating a far worse problem. You knew the scars on Azriel’s hands, he’d told you the story behind them on one of the many nights the two of you had lay in bed, wrapped in one another’s arms, seeking comfort. 

Or perhaps, it had been during stolen moments in the café, when Azriel would come to visit you, sitting and doing his work at one of the tables in the back. He’d take a break only when you’d bring him a fresh pot of tea and a pastry, sit across his lap and talk in hushed whispers during the quieter parts of your shifts before you had to get back to work. 

It could even have been one of your late-night walks, or early-morning strolls, while the streets of Velaris were quiet and mist-kissed. Your hands clasped together tightly, his wing shielding around you as you walked together, talking of everything and anything that came to mind. 

He’d told you quiet stories of his past, of his present, of his hopes for the future. All about little baby Nyx, Nesta and her journey to finding the Valkyries, what it had been like growing up in the camps, or all the best little villages and towns he’d visited on his worldly travels. 

Your heart had been doing crazy things, lately. Crazy, stupid things, like skipping a beat and speeding up and bursting with adoration for a man so new to your life. It did crazy things, like encourage you back up the stairs an hour later, to ignore the tremble in your hands or the wobble in your step, heart calling out to him. 

You’d tried to ignore the urge. To sit and read your book, until you’d read the same line over and over while not absorbing a single word, and giving up with a frustrated huff. You re-basted the chicken, and added the vegetables to cook, and even set off some potatoes to boil but all the while, as your body worked, your mind and heart lay with him. 

This time, you knocked as you entered, knuckles a soft rap on the door before you pushed it open. Magic thrummed through the air, calling you closer and pushing you away, and you found Azriel, still in the same uncomfortable position, working at his desk. His shoulders were locked and rigid, his head hung, hair messy from constant tangling, and you lifted a hand, brushing it slowly through his hair. 

“Azriel…”

He barely even acknowledged you, nothing more than a grunt tossed in your direction as you stood by his side, and a sigh broke free from you. His lips were turned down in a frown, dragging all of his pretty features into misery too, and you hated to see this side of him. Hooking your fingers under his chin, his writing came to a stop as you forced his head to turn, to look up at you. His eyes were dull, a spark of irritation and anger bursting through them as recognition and consciousness flashed back into his lifeless form. 

“Azriel.”

This time, a growl tore free, that frown becoming a snarl as he pulled back, gaze narrowing a little. “I’m fucking working. What do you want?”

You froze, staring at him, taking in the exhaustion under his eyes, the pain in his stance, the spinning thoughts you could practically see surrounding him, so much so it must be dizzying and painful. Dropping your hand back to your side, he only returned to work, not sparing you another thought as he chased to catch up with the ones already running him ragged in his head. 

Silently walking away, you left his door open, hurrying away from the scene and back to the kitchen. Taking the kettle in trembling hands and filling it up, you set that to boil too, a mug from the cupboard clacking as you set it down on the counter, throwing open the doors to the tea cupboard soon after. 

Your nervous fingers skimmed across the labels, searching the front of each one, and it was as you were holding two, undecided on which to choose— perhaps just brew them together?— that the air in the room shifted, and a pair of strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist, tugging you back into a solid chest. 

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, face tucking into the crook of your neck, where he left a kiss to your skin. His hold tightened, squeezing you against his body as he slumped down into you. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Az.” You ran a hand along his forearm, banded around your body, feeling it loosen just a fraction as you squeezed. “I’m just so worried about you, I wanted to make you some tea to help, but I couldn't decide which one.”

At that, a whine slipped free from him, nuzzling deeper into your neck, another kiss, and another. Putting down the teas on the counter, you wiggled a little, managing to get him to loosen up just enough to turn in his arms. His forehead came to rest on your own, noses brushing, a sad frown on his lips as his eyes remained closed. 

“Az…”

“No more work. If I’m stressed to the point of snapping at you, then it’s too much. I’m sorry. You were just trying to help, and clearly, I needed the help.”

Looping your arms around his neck, he sighed, a happier sound as you scratched at the nape of his neck soothingly. “Stop apologising, Azriel. I appreciate it, but it’s unnecessary. I’m not angry at you, just concerned.”

“I like that you worry about me.” He whispered, deep voice running like honey as he bent enough to pick you up behind the backs of your legs, spinning you to place you onto the kitchen counter, and step comfortably between your thighs. “But you don’t deserve that kind of treatment. You deserve better. I don’t deserve you, but I don’t want to let you go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Az. I wouldn't be in this relationship if I was going to run. I can handle you, even when you’re not at your best.”

He only answered with a shaky laugh, hands smoothing up your thighs to sit on your hips, squeezing in a series of happy pulses. “We’re in a relationship?”

Elation was clear on his face, no denying it, at your choice of words, and you gave a little chuckle of your own, nodding against him as your noses came back to brushing together, heads resting on one another. Your conversation with Elain flickered through your mind once again, and you wondered if she had seen this, seen you give into her whims and silently admit she was right. If she’d seen this, you hope she picked up on your mental scowl, too. “Well, what would you call what we have?”

“I like ‘relationship’. I like it a lot, actually.”

Throwing your arms over his shoulders, they looped around his neck, and you pushed your face up a little closer to him. “We may not be conventional, Az, but I like what we have. I like our relationship. I think we’re perfect as we are.”

He didn’t need words to respond, not this time, not as his mouth sealed over your own in a gentle, tender kiss. The first kiss you’d ever shared, a timid one, his lips working slowly and cautiously over yours, giving you plenty of time to pull away. 

You didn’t want to, kissing him back with just as much tenderness and affection as he was showing you, pouring every feeling you had into it, to make sure he knew just how much you cared. Your heart was beating hard, fast, racing like a drum under your ribcage as you melted into his touch. One scarred hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb smoothing across your skin, in tandem with every stroke of his lips. 

You pulled back for breath, just to find yourself tangled back up in him, his tongue stroking across your lower lip, teasing the roof of your mouth as you opened up for him. A groan skittered across your tongue from him, a pant for breath, his hand slipping up under your shirt to sit on your bare waist as you tugged on the slight curls of his hair. 

When he pulled back, at last, your lips were swollen, your lungs burning in the best way possible, and your head was spinning so much you could barely focus. The world felt fuzzy at your touch, glowing and glittering as you stole a final kiss from his lips, his soft chuckle breaking it. 

“Am I still invited for dinner with you?”

“Yes. I’m making chicken and potatoes.” Your smile lasted only a second, before you were sitting upright. Time had melted away around you, disappearing into dusk outside beyond the windows, “Oh, no, the potatoes!”

Pushing him back and hopping down from the counter, he watched with a dazed, kiss-drunk expression as you rushed to the stove, taking off the pan lid and prodding at the potatoes with a fork. 

“I amend my earlier statement. We’re having chicken and mashed potatoes, because these have gone soft. Entirely your fault for distracting me.”

“I distracted you?” He mused, sneaking up behind you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, tugging you back to kiss at your cheeks, trailing down toward your mouth. 

“You know you did.” His only response was a smile. Draining the potatoes was a challenge, what with Azriel plastered to your back like a new limb that served no purpose, and you had to elbow him off in order to finish the food. 

While he waited, he tinkered with the dining room table, pouring two glasses of wine and rearranging. When you turned, he’d dug out the candles you’d put away, lighting them with a match once again, and blushing as he laid them out. “I thought they’d be romantic.”

“I like them.” Your cheeks were equally as heated, smiling to yourself as you turned away to check the food. 

His distance didn’t last long, as you searched for a knife with which to carve the chicken, he was once again backing you into a counter, his mouth hungrily descending upon your own. Mutters of ‘waiting long enough’ silenced on your mouth as he dove into you, hands on your body once again, trying to tempt you up onto the counter. 

“Let me cook, you menace,”

“Just a few more,” Was his barter, and those few kisses passed more and more time, his lips like a high you had to chase, until only the desperate urge to breathe could pull you apart. “Gods, I love that. I love kissing you.”

“I can tell.”

He rolled his eyes, but his smirk stayed, unashamed of his newfound addiction. 

“We need to eat, you need food.”

“I have everything I need, right here.” He leaned in again, lips puckered, and you tipped your head his mouth finding the edge of your jaw, and he grunted unhappily at the action, but mouthed at your skin nonetheless.

“How about after dinner, we can go upstairs and do some self-care. I’ll show you all the fancy new creams and skincare I got. We can relax, and cuddle, and read.”

“And there will be more kisses?”

“There will most definitely be more kisses.” You promised, cupping his face and bringing him back for a final peck. 

“Then I think I can agree to those terms.” He stared, pulling back just enough to fully take you in. As the urgency in his expression died down with the promise that this affection was not a one-time deal, his face took on blissfulness instead. Running his knuckles across your cheek, his face softened even further as you leaned into his touch, cupping his hand and pressing kisses to his scarred fingers. “You… You are my moon, do you know that? You light up even the darkest parts of life for me.”

His words were like whispered oaths, something too heavy for you to fully comprehend but burned into your mind regardless, and you gave him a sweet smile back. “You are my stars, Azriel.”

“Really?”

“Every last one. Glittering and perfect in the night, full of mystery and hopes and stories. You are my favourite part of the night sky.”

Your heads rested together, dinner temporarily forgotten just for another moment or so, to bask in the revelations of the evening. 

Today, 

today changed everything for the better.

[spacecowboyhotch]

In Plain Sight, Ch 3: The Tempest

summary: nathan makes his intentions clear and as always…is a bit of an asshole while doing it.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, enemies to lovers (sorta), boss/employee dynamics, pining, nerves, SIBLINGSSSS, mentions of care taking/sick relative, first date?? (after the fact), Nathan being A MEGA SIMPPPPPP

wc: 3,446

an: we get to meet reader’s sisters in this, both of which i love very very much! you also get a bit of reader’s background. and of course, nathan’s attempt at asking someone out. hope y’all enjoy and always thanks for reading! <3

in plain sight masterlist | part 4 | phart 5

Sleep last night was difficult…and interesting. It took you a while to fall asleep, your nerves feeling a little frazzled once you’d gotten in the car and started to think about how you were going to have dinner with Nathan. You’ve spent plenty of time alone with him, but within the boss-employee dynamic. This dinner he’s asked you to could still be that— but you wouldn’t have your usual protections. No pressing questions, no tasks, no screens to hide behind. You and him. And food. When’s the last time you shared a meal with someone other than your sisters?

Once you’d finally succumbed to sleep, your dreams were of him. It felt like nothing and everything all at once. Nathan was there. You’ve never dreamt of him before. You were in Nathan’s house— except it was clear that neither of you were working. You watched a movie together cuddling on the couch, cooked a meal, and took a walk through the forest. While the thought of that would never appeal to you in real life when you wake, there’s a peaceful feeling lingering. It’s a little unsettling.

You hop out of bed before you can allow yourself to start assigning meaning to the dream. It was simply that— a dream. A product of your nerves, and spending nearly every waking moment dedicated to learning, organizing and managing all the aspects of Nathan’s life.

You get caught up in your ungodly long morning routine. Breakfast and tea with your mom as you read from her favorite poetry book, picking your sisters’ lunches, showering. Pressing your sisters’ uniforms. Making sure your mother has everything she needs before the time gap it takes for the nurse to arrive. Writing out a to do list for when you get home and setting out your comfortable clothing. Once everything’s set you change out of your robe and into your work clothes. You’re spending too much time in front of the mirror, fidgeting and analyzing yourself. There’s no need to look perfect, it’s just Nathan. Mr. Bateman, you should call him even in your head for separation.

“You look extra pretty today,” Your youngest sister, Emma, mumbles sleepily from her place in your bed.

You smooth out your skirt for the millionth time, looking over your shoulder at her, “Yeah, you think so Em?”

She yawns, raising a fist to rub at her eye. “You did your hair all nice and you’re wearing a skirt.”

“I wear skirts all the time,” You reason with her (and maybe a little with yourself).

“Not the pretty one.”

You cross the room, leaning in to tickle her, “Hey— are you saying all my other skirts are ugly?”

Emma bursts into a fit of giggles, doing her best to twist away from you. “Stop it,” She wheezes.

“Take it back and I’ll stop,” You reason with her, unable to stop your own laughter.

“I’m sorry, I take it back,” She whines, thrashing playfully beneath you.

“You’re safe for now, little one. Do you want me to make you some oatmeal before I go?”

“Can you eat it with me?” Emma asks, hopeful.

“No, honey, I’ve got to go. But, I’ll be home early tonight. We can watch a movie, how does that sound.”

Emma’s quiet for a few moments, obviously disappointed but then she nods, and cracks a sad smile. You lean in to kiss her forehead, hugging her close.

“Go brush your teeth and I’ll make your breakfast.”

“Do you think sister wants to eat with me?”

It takes effort for you not to cringe. Of course Emma wants to spend time with her other sister, but it seems like Phil is in her fuck any and everyone phase. You’ll try to get through to her though, if not for her own sake, then for Emma’s. A 7 year old shouldn't be spending so much time alone, not when some of her family is right here.

“I’ll ask her. If not, you can go sit with momma, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Okay, little, up up. To the bathroom you go.”

You both stand, and you take her hand, dropping her off at the bathroom on your way to Phil’s room. To your surprise, the girl is already on up and on her phone when you crack the door.

She frowns, letting out a little sigh. “What?”

“Emma wants you to have breakfast with her.”

Phil rolls her eyes, not bothering to look over at you, “I’m not hungry.”

“Phillipa, you should eat. And you should always be excited to spend time with your sister.”

“She’s whiny.”

You cross the room, coming to sit beside her on the bed, “So are you.”

“Yeah and I have reason to be,” She murmurs defiantly.

“And she doesn’t?”

She grows quiet then, her thumb that had been continuously scrolling stopping in its tracks.

“Even if you don’t eat, could you just sit with her?” You ask, knowing that her shell has cracked a little.

“Fine, whatever,” She breathes.

“I’m making her a yogurt bowl. Do you want one?”

“No,” She says quickly, trying to feign uninterest. “Unless we have chocolate chips.”

“We have chocolate chips. And marshmallow fluff.”

“Then I guess I’ll have one.”

“Thank you. I’ll leave some money so you can get one of those fancy coffees from the place near your school. Will you pick a movie for us to watch today?”

“You’re coming home?”

“I should be here by 6…7 at the latest.”

“Oh. Okay,” She says, feigning disinterest.

“That’s all I get? An oh okay? Maybe I should tell Mr. Bateman I can work late.”

“No! You’re never home, c’mon don’t do that.”

“I’m excited to hang out with you too,” You say teasingly, leaning over to rest your head on her shoulder. Surprisingly, she lets you stay there.

“Can I make brownies?”

“As long as you let Emma help.”

“Of course I’ll let her help.”

“You have to be patient with her,” You remind her gently.

“I know, I know. Like you were with me,” She whispers thoughtfully. Sometimes you don’t think you give her enough credit.

“I love you Phillipa. You’re her big sister you know? I’m gone so much trying to make everything work here. She’s looking up to you. She thinks you’re the coolest person in the world.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“Can I make her yogurt bowl and you make mine?”

“Sure, sweet girl. Let’s go.”

—

Nathan has never described himself as antsy. Impatient maybe, against delayed gratification sure. Antsy brings a connotation he’s not used to— nerves, a power struggle he’s on the losing side of, and lack of confidence. And while all of that feels true right now he still doesn’t want to admit it. He’s sitting at his desk, waiting for you to get in. His brow is sweaty because he’s been pacing back and forth, changing his mind about where he should be.

Eager to see you, he’d started in your office which is based in one of his many labs. It only took 10 minutes of him pacing in there to think that he was coming on too strong. It led him to the living room, but after sitting for a few minutes lounging at 6:30 in the morning when you were clocking in felt like it would be a slap in the face. He tried the patio, the kitchen, and eventually ended up back in his office.

He’d felt a little good about himself, the fact that he was thinking about this in a way that doesn’t just involve him and his desires. It was one of the reasons he’d realized what was happening to him. He’s doing his best at balancing his protective shell and showing you what he could be. What the two of you could be together.

Nathan loses his breath when you first come up on the camera, walking into your office. He’s always thought you were beautiful but today it seems like you tried to be. That could be his wishful thinking. Either way, he can’t take his eyes off you. You’re wearing a skirt he’s never seen before. A little shorter, a little pleated. It has his mind wandering off to places it shouldn’t, but it’s not like it hasn’t before. He can’t wait to get in the shower long after you left, and imagine what it would feel like to slip you out of it.

He stares…and stares…and stares until he realizes that an hour and half has gone by and he’s done nothing but give himself blue balls while watching you type away on your computer. Fuck, he’s completely at your mercy.

He pings you. Maybe that’ll make it worse, having you right in front of him like this. But, he needs to see you to scratch whatever itch this is in him today. There’s work too, a few things he needs to give to you to file away or mail out.

“Good morning, Mr. Bateman.”

He usually likes it when you call him that— especially when he’s imagining you say it while he runs his hands all over your body, all dirty and forbidden. Today is different. Something about it makes him shift uncomfortably in his seat. With dinner today, his first real shot at trying to know you as something other than his employee. As an outsider like everyone else.

“Would it kill you to call me Nathan?” He asks, raising a brow though his mouth is a little pouty.

It takes everything in you not to laugh. He looks ridiculous when he’s disgruntled. “That would be unprofessional, sir. Are those for me?”

“Yeah, they’re for you. We still on for dinner?”

The words make your stomach flip. Not because you don’t want to, but because you do. Because words like that aren’t supposed to come out of your boss’ mouth. They’re too casual, too much like the one’s men you used to swipe through on your phone said.

“Yes, I’m still able to have dinner with you, sir. Am I able to leave early?” You ask, reaching for the stack of files.

“You can leave whenever you want.”

Your mouth pulls up into a half-smile, and you nod. “Thank you, Mr. Bateman.”

Nathan leaves you be for the rest of the day. He doesn’t want to come on too strong, or be too clingy, something he’s never worried about before. He spends most of the day with the chef, yelling at him that he’s making everything all wrong— too salty or sweet or slimy or acidic— until it’s perfect. He needs it to be perfect. And once it is, he appears in the doorway of the lab your office is in, calling out to you in an uncharacteristically soft manner.

You inhale softly as you two make your way to the kitchen, the smell of familiar herbs and spices in the air. “Italian?”

“Compiled some data— this seemed like the smartest choice.”

“Compiled some data? On me?”

“I compile data on everyone. I need to learn.”

“What could you possibly have to learn about me?”

“Everything. You’re really fucking secretive.”

“I’m not secretive, I’m private,” You reason.

Nathan snorts, looking at you with an expression of disbelief, “You have to realize that those things are the same.”

“They’re not,” You counter before thinking better of it.

This is why you were quiet and avoided him as much as possible— Philippa isn’t the only one in your family with a streak of defiance. Denying authority runs in your blood, it has taken you years to quell it.

“They are if somebody’s trying to get to know you.”

“And that’s what you’re doing, Mr. Bateman? Trying to get to know me?”

He shrugs, feeling a little too unsettled— a little too nervous to reveal his intentions so early on.

“What did you learn with this data you compiled on me?”

“That you like noodle dishes of all kinds, but preferably Italian. And chocolate.”

There are two places settings sat at the corner of the table, a few bowls of various pastas, salads and breads. Dinner is surprisingly calm. He asks you simple, noninvasive questions about your past. He knows where you went to school and what past jobs you’ve had, but he asks you how you felt about them, if you made friends. He asks for your favorite movies and bands, supplying his own when you ask the same questions. It’s the most benign conversation you’ve ever had with him and it feels…good.

He surprises you when he says, “This. Again. Maybe next week?”

Your mouth goes flat with confusion, “You want to have dinner with me again, sir?”

“Nathan,” He suggests, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

You stare at him for a moment, eyes narrowing. “If this is some sort of joke, I don’t appreciate it, Nathan.”

Sweet, sweet music to his ears. Even with the attitude in your voice, Nathan drinks in every drop of his name on your tongue. In fact, he thinks the edge makes it better— it makes his blood hot. It makes him want you.

He leans closer, peering at you from over his glasses. “I’m an asshole and a clown, a shitty combination but what I’m not is an idiot, sweetheart. I wouldn’t joke about this,” His face is earnest as he speaks.

But, what does that even mean when it comes to him? You’re not completely sure. What’s worse is that you don’t know if your stomach is flipping at the idea of him telling the truth or disappointment that he may not be. The latter is what scares you most. When did you start to care about him like that?

“You— are you— you’re— you want to date me?”

Nathan bites his tongue for several seconds. He can’t say that he wants to do more than date you. He wants to consume you, to worship you, to spread you across this table and drink from between your legs until you whine and beg him for mercy. He can’t do any of that— not yet at least.

He settles for, “Yes.”

With his affirmative response, with nowhere to hide you look down at your empty plate, trying to process what’s happening. If this is true and he wants to date you, was this your first date? First dates are consensual, and while you had agreed to this dinner with him you hadn’t even been aware of your feelings at the time. Surely you couldn’t date your boss. It’s the total opposite of what you’d been trying to do— keep a low radar and be as competent and professional as possible to keep your family on the right path. You wouldn't jeopardize that for the hot, broad, bearded man sitting in front of you, even if he was looking at you with those gooey brown eyes. How long had you pretended you didn’t see him? How wide he is, how his shirts cling to his shoulders and chest, how sometimes when he comes straight to the lab after boxing his pheromones have you wanting to rut against him like an animal in heat.

You inhale a sharp breath, horrified and surprised by the thoughts racing through your head. It’s like he had unlocked a vault of vulgarities.

Finally, you look at him, apologetic, “Nathan…I can’t. I can’t do something that.”

Nathan notices right away that you didn’t deny feeling anything, and for now that’s enough. It’s an in. And if he’s not mistaken he hears a breathiness in your tone, hunger in your eyes.

“Why?”

“You’re my boss,” You say simply. It seems rather straightforward but Nathan frowns at you in confusion. For a man with such a big brain he could miss the mark sometimes. It would be endearing if it didn’t drive you a little nuts. Okay, maybe it’s both.

“What’s that gotta do with anything?”

“If it went poorly—“

“You think I would fire you over my ego?”

“Quite frankly, yes. I’ve seen how you treat people.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” He insists firmly. He knows it’s true, he just had to convince you.

“How would you know?”

“Because I know.”

“And if I say that’s not good enough? My entire family is dependent on me. On the money I make. I can’t and won’t put that at risk.”

Nathan scoffs, “There is no risk. I’m sure.”

“What if I’m not sure?”

“What’s that gotta do with how I feel?”

“Everything.”

“Nothing. It’s got nothing to do with how I feel, wanna know why? Because I put my ass on the line asking you here, not knowing how the fuck you feel about me. You’re the most elusive, sweet, competent…fucking arousing woman I’ve ever met. I’m spoken for.”

“Prove it,” You challenge.

This time he’s sure. He can hear how winded you sound and he knows that he’s affecting you. He wants to clear the table, crawl across and fuck you until neither of you can think. He’s getting ahead of himself.

“Prove it?”

“A trial of you showing me that all of what you said is true. We can spend more time together, but no commitments, and if it doesn’t work out I keep my job.”

“You sure? You’re gonna fall in love with me,” He warns, his grin mischievous.

“And you’re gonna have to work for it. Have you ever had to court a woman, Mr. Bateman?”

“No, sounds like I’ve got a lot of research to do. I’m a fast learner.”

“That you are.”

“Do you want to know your choices for dessert?”

“There’s choices?”

“Four.”

You grow thoughtful for a moment, before saying, “All of them. Bring me all of them.”

He can’t help the smile that spreads across his face— if he wasn’t in love with you already he is now. You allow yourself to look at him, to really look at him. And like this, his teeth white and shiny, eyes crinkled in the corners, warm brown eyes he looks sweet. Lovable. Like he could one day be yours. You won’t get your hopes up, not yet.

—

Nathan walks you to your car. It’s strange, much sweeter than you anticipating him being, but you did tell he had to work for it. You unlock the car with your remote and he gets your door. He ushers you in. He takes your hand and kisses it, his full beard tickling your skin in a way that makes your thoughts go hot and filthy.

“Drive safe for fucks sake.”

“Aren’t you a charmer?” You murmur in that soft little voice.

Nathan raises a brow at you as he leans against the car. “Are you sassing your boss?”

“No. I’m sassing the man that claims he wants to pursue me.”

“I hate to break it to you, but those are the same man, sweetheart,” He teases with a grin.

“Not if he’s gonna get it together, and prove it.”

“Touché. Let me know when you get home?”

“Keeping tabs on me already?”

“I— I always wonder,” He admits softly, and as you peer at him, you notice a soft flush in his cheeks.

He’s going to be the death of you, isn’t he? Getting all soft and sweet and flustered. You want to grab him by the collar and kiss him until his chest heaves with arousal and he cums in his pants. Instead you say: “I’ll let you know.”

“Good,” He takes a step away from the car, trying his best not to show how pleased he is with your agreement.

He feels like a walking raw nerve. You hold his future in your hands— his happiness, his sanity. It’s unhealthy and scary, how much control you have over him. But this time, he knows that the person is worthy. You’re worth any pain you could cause him, and that’s solidified by the way you grin up at him. It’s the brightest thing he’s ever seen. You looking at him like this, your saccharine smile, eyes full of mirth has his brain liquifying.

He grits his teeth at the way you’ve turned him into some Shakespearean loser. He could wax day in and day out about you. Write lines upon lines of code that would program nothing but his feelings for you. It’s stupidly perfect. He wants this with no one else. There is just you. Part of him is convinced that it’s always been you. He’s been on trajectory, making his way to you with every single decision. Fuck Bluebook. Fuck robots and their fake brains and gangly synthetic limbs. Fuck his data. Fuck all of his accomplishments. There’s just you.

“See you tomorrow, Nathan.”

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue, @nova-ivy541, @sparkypantelones, @veritable-trash, @mangoslushcrush, @thhriller, @kotaropuppy, @tenderhornynihilist

[g1rlysh1tp0st1ng]

low calorie meals and snacks for y’all <3

breakfast: (normally i skip, but when i don’t this is one of the most fulfilling)

one egg, scrambled, no milk 🍳 106 cals

6 sliced strawberries 🍓 35 cals

total cals = 141 cals

for me this is such a filling meal!!! the egg provides some protein that helps you stay full for longer. i lightly salt and pepper my egg for a little extra flavor. i also slice the strawberries very small so that it takes me longer to eat them.

lunch: (lunch is my favorite meal because i always get to choose what im having)

3 cups of raw spinach 🥬 21 cals

3 oz of chicken, grilled (seasoned) 🐓 128 cals

1/4 cup of shredded carrots 🥕 20 cals

squeeze of lemon 🍋 0 cals

toss as a scrumptious salad. im a picky eater so this is how i eat my salads and it is so so yummy! season your chicken with a small bit of cajun seasoning to make it really flavorful. sometimes if i am in need of a crunch i will crush up a ritz cracker and toss with it.

total cals = 159 cals

dinner:

one slice of keto bread 🍞 35 cals

5 pieces of thin sliced turkey 🦃 62 cals

one slice of tomato 🍅 ~ 3-13 cals

6 slices of cucumber 🥒 5 cals

one cup of white cheddar popcorn 🍿 70 cals

total cals = 175 to 185 cals

assemble the bread, turkey, tomato, and cucumber into a sandwich. i use great value smoked turkey breast, lewis 35 white bread, and smart food popcorn.

hope you guys enjoy if you try these out!!!

peace and love friends 🫶

[slasher-male-wife]

Hello. I'm really sorry to bother you, but if you don't mind, I've read your story, about how the Sinclair brothers comfort us, help us cope with a bad condition. It was so wonderful! Thank you for your efforts. You did an amazing job! I really needed it...

And so, if you don't mind, I'd like us to thank our husbands properly. Show them, how much we love them and appreciate everything, they do for us. Do something nice and pleasant for them. A romantic dinner? Massage? Something, to make them a happier.

Of course. Our husbands need love too. I have a post about us giving them a paper ring but they do need something more proper. My main love language is physical touch but I have a better idea for the runner up, acts of service. I think this is a really sweet idea and I'm happy to write it. Getting requests never bother me unless it's clear people haven't read my pinned post. Sorry for the little rant but I hope you enjoy. This is gonna be pretty long because I got a bit carried away. Ok last thing I’m writing for some of the boys from stranger things. They’re listed on my pinned post I just wanted to let y’all know. 

No more junk: gn reader x poly! Sinclair brothers

Warnings: Strong language

Since you’ve been living with the boys you’ve noticed they don’t always eat the best food. They’re all very busy and with the acception of every Sunday it’s not a guarrenty that they’ll eat together, The addition of your garden has helped improve it a bit but you don’t think it’s enough. You feel like you owe them big time for well not killing you but also treating you like family and going above and beyond to make sure you’re happy. You need to give them something back. Words your friends used to say to you when you were teenagers echo in your head. “We love our bread, we love our butter, but most of all we love each other.” Your friends were like family to you before you split up. You took insperation from that rhyme and planned out something for the next day. Of course you made the bread dough the day before your full plan. 

Bo and Lester wake up early. You beat them to it and woke up at six to ensure by the time they got downstairs the breakfast you make them will be ready. You put the dough in the pan and bake it while you go out to the garden and grab a few other things for cooking. A few bell peppers, some herbs and strawberries to round it out. You cut up the peppers and by the time the bread is out of the oven you get to work on the omelet’s you’re making for them. You know Vincent prefers something a bit more sweet so you have another plan for him. 

You add the pepper to the eggs and get to cooking, the smell of fresh food already filling up the house. You plate the omelets and add the berries. You already started the coffee pot and cut the bread by the time Lester enters the kitchen. Like usual he’s smiling but he’s a bit surprised at the food waiting for him. “Good morning honey.” You say giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

“Whats all this about darlin?” He says sitting at the table. You hand him a plate and a cup of coffee and go back to the counter. 

c“I’m just doing something for my lovely husbands. I’m tired of the three of you eating junk all the time. I wanted to do something nice for the three of you and this is what I chose to do.” You cut the bread fully and get to work on making sandwiches for Bo and Lester. His smile only grows and he starts to eat. 

“This is great Y/N. Why haven’t you cooked for us sooner?” 

“Well I’ve been as busy as the three of you. For a town with only four people and one dog living in it there’s always something that needs to be done.” You pack some more food and finish up their lunches. You pour another cup of coffee and Bo walks in. He gives you a kiss and raises a brow when he sees what’s waiting for him. 

“Whats the occasion?” He asks taking a seat. You set down the plate and coffee for him and get to work on your own breakfast. 

“I thought I would treat my lovely husbands to something special. I’m also tired of you eating so much junk. I get you’re not the richest people but you’ve got good money. You can afford some better food.” You make yourself your own cup of coffee and sit with the two of them. The rest of breakfast goes by with talk of how good the food is, Bo promising to get better food to eat and Lester talking about childhood memories. You know it’s a touchy subject for the brothers but you’re glad not all of it was bad. They had to leave eventually and you got two more kisses goodbye after you gave them their lunches. You get to work on the dishes and around nine you make Vincent’s breakfast. You spread cream cheese on the bread you made and cut up some strawberries, putting them on the bread too. You pour some coffee in a mug and hear the door to the office open. Soon Vincent is in the kitchen. 

“Hi lovely. I wanted to treat you boys today so I made you some breakfast. You set his plate and mug on the table and kiss his wax cheek. “Do you want some privacy?” You always ask this before you stay with Vincent when he has to take his mask off. You’ve seen his face a few times but you still make sure to ask. He nods. “I’ll leave you to it then.” You leave the kitchen and go back upstairs to get dressed. You spend the rest of the day cleaning up the house and spending time with Vincent in the basement. When Lester and Bo get home you insist they spend the rest of the day relaxing with you. 

[eiightysixbaby]

everytime i see ur acc i see leah and then ur cute lil tag lea rambles or smthn like that and then im like 'me??' although its spelled lea and then i feel bad bc it feels like i took it even though i followed you after i made my acc

sorry lmao

but a cute lil story is that a while ago i was hit on by my cousin's best man at his wedding reception 💀💀

even smaller side note i love ur stories 🤌🤌🤌 i eat that shit up for breakfast lunch and dinner and then a midnight snaK bc daYum

hope this provides you with some entertainment 💪😔🫂

hiiiiiii lea! the lea(h) rambles tag is just too good, great minds think alike y’know?

that is a crazy little story and I must know - is it good that he hit on you? or was it weird and unwanted? did you flirt back!????? I need the rest of it.

and thank you so much! I’m here to provide every meal of the day, served fresh just for y’all 😘🤌🏼

[thepropertylovers]

Summer is Officially Here

We got home from our European trip this past weekend, and I don’t think we’ve ever been happier to return home. We had a blast on the trip, don’t get me wrong, and it felt so good to travel again, just the two of us in new and exciting cities we’ve never been to. 

But there is something about returning home after being away for a long period of time that is just this overwhelming feeling of comfort. Sleeping in your own bed, drinking your own coffee, snuggling with your kids. There’s nothing like time away to remind you of what you have right here at home.

The day after we got back, we spent the entire day with the kids soaking up every minute of every hour. I made them breakfast and lunch and dinner. It’s back to making three meals a day now that it’s summer and they’re out of school (they normally eat breakfast and lunch at school). We spent the afternoon in the backyard. I threw the ball with the boys while PJ was tending to the garden and Anna was coloring with chalk. 

Riah pretending to be Meryl. This child, y’all.

I spent the day falling in love with our house all over again after only being away a week. I started noticing and appreciating things about it that I hadn’t in a long time. Isn’t that funny how that works? Of course there are things about our house that we would change if we could, but being away made me love it for exactly what it is. It’s our family home, the one we brought our children home to, and the one I grew up in, and right now, it actually feels pretty perfect for us.

We’ve spent the last few days at home and at the farm. Summer is officially here, which means all our schedules are about to change. It also means hot as hell days, lots of trips to the beach, slightly later bedtimes, lots of Alabama Shakes, more TV and video game time, and hopefully a lot more summer reading for our oldest. We always had to read two to three books during the summer growing up, and I want him to start that, too. As he becomes a more confident reader, I am hoping this is the year he falls in love with reading.

Here’s to the next two months!

[75hard4kaitlyn]

Day 2: Less ow, more gratitude.

Today, I had to wake up at around 6 AM to get a lot of my tests done before I had to go to class. So I ate my usual breakfast of eggs on some sourdough, got into some clothes, and with heatless curlers in my hair, went to the gym.

The run this morning was a little bit slower as I didn’t have caffeine yet and my body was tired from waking up in the middle of the night and then going back to sleep constantly. however I got it done nonetheless and that’s what counts! I also got in a short little push arm workout before I took out my heatless curls.

and also some progress pictures!

During class and through my run to grab Chipotle for lunch I ended up crushing my water go faster than I thought I would! I guess I was really dehydrated from the run. not necessarily sure but also not complaining. I also had an interview for a new internship today. I know it isn’t relevant to my 75 hard but I hope it does work out, like me!

After eating my lunch and heading home, I had a very small dinner and completed my calories for the day! I’m going to read before bed to finish up all my tasks for the day.

I also found myself very grateful today. Grateful that I have a life where I can have a water and I’m not struggling for water. Thankful for a life where I am able to limit my calories and not have to hunt for them. Through the beginning part of this process, I am finding gratitude in all of it. And I hope to continue.

See y’all tomorrow. - Kaitlyn

[a-shared-experience]

My doctor always treats me like I’m “abusing” stimulants…

Bitch I don’t even remember to take them, not at breakfast, lunch, dinner or bedtime

They just take up space in my cupboard lol

I hope me sharing my annoying mental health makes y’all feel better about your own. It’s hard to exist 🤪 imma take one though before I start a full work out routine or run around in circles or some shit.

Stay in school, eat your vegetables, take your meds

Beat your meat

[thedesperatehousehusband]

The People That We Met In Our Bora Bora Neighborhood

It has been a long-ass time since I’ve written a blog post. I promised Juan that I would write two about our trip to Bora Bora. One about the cast of characters that we encountered and the other about the trip itself. I’m going to start with the people who we saw on a regular basis. Many of whom we did not really engage with but, rather, we have written narratives about them. It’s something we do especially on beach trips. When we stay at a resort for 10+ days we get into a routine and do things very similarly in terms of when we go to the gym, eat breakfast, get to our beach chairs, eat lunch, nap, dinner, drinks, etc. Within that routine, you start to see the same people. So we start to name them, write their backstories and amuse ourselves in the process.

And now the cast of our living theater experience at the St. Regis Bora Bora Resort

·       Plastic Rattan: Maybe it’s a St. Regis thing. Maybe it’s the fact that the closest major US city to French Polynesia is LA. Maybe it’s something altogether different. But, y’all, there were some big, big, big fake titties at the St. Regis Bora Bora. Plastic Rattan was above and beyond. The green string bikini was working overtime. Hanging on by a thread, if you will. These boobs had to be back breaking. If you bought ‘em, flaunt ‘em.

·       Gaysians: This was an interesting pairing. They spent a lot of time on their phones. Gaysian the Younger took over the gym as if it were his private studio. Gaysian the Older appeared to make the plans and drive the agenda. They didn’t really interact with one another all that much, which was a bizarre theme for many couples we encountered.

·       Roid Rage: Ooof. The baldness, the sunburn, the backne. All the telltale signs of steroid use. He just seemed very angry at all times. Also, people still use steroids? Have we learned nothing from Lou Ferrigno or Mark McGwire or Jose Canseco or any number of other fallen athletes?

·       Kylie & Family: When you picture someone name Kylie, do you picture someone who looks like Orange County threw up on her? Well, you’d be right. This family was very, very, very SoCal and just oozed Real Housewives vibes. Kylie was turning 22 AND graduating from college. Her brother was the biggest bro there ever was. Her middle sister simply did not care and spent the entire time on her phone. Their poor dad just wanted to have a good time and did actually ask the general manager if he could do something special at dinner for his daughter. Of course, the GM obliged and it was lovely for Kylie. It was all immediately posted on the TIkToks. The mom was channeling her best Vanderpump schtick. I think she was auditioning for RHOC. Lisa Rinna better watch out. This family was trying real hard.

·       Deal Closer: Can you picture every old white man who has been in commercial real estate for 40 years? Well, than you know Deal Closer. In the middle of paradise, this man wandered around on his phone closing deals day in and day out. Real estate does not quit. Not even on iffy WiFi and what I assume is a less-than-stellar phone connection. This man had it going on in all the wrong ways. Loud, obnoxious, a one upmanship story for every person he talked to, missed the bus to the ferry on the main island because he was haggling for pearls, then complained that the bus left. Constantly talking square footage. Rushed a dinner server because he had an early morning for deep sea fishing. I suppose we were at the St. Regis so I clearly don’t know why I’m surprised because entitled white people and the St. Regis are like peas and carrots. I just hope for more when you are on a remote island in the most beautiful setting ever. Close them deals, motherfucker.

·       Patty & Selma: Two sisters. Identical haircut, style and color. Same height, same sarong-style. They didn’t chain smoke like the animated characters on The Simpson’s but that was really the only difference between these two gals and Marge’s sisters. The pinnacle was at breakfast when they asked for a to go bag to take their pastries. Totally reasonable. The pastry game was STRONG at this resort. But they also took the butter. Which was not in containers. But just on a small dish. They just put it on a napkin and stuck it in the bag with their croissants. These sisters needed they butter.

·       Lil Nugget: There was a breakfast and lunch server who was so small. Just the tiniest, wee-est girl ever. Her actual name was Audrey but we called her Lil Nugget because she was nugget. Lovely and sweet but just a nugget.

·       Crikey & Crikette: Aussies are loud, y’all. You could hear Crikey & Crikette coming from the opposite end of the resort. They were fun-loving and into everything. Super appreciative and kind to the staff. But loud. So loud. That piercing Australian accent at breakfast. Then at the beach. Then at the bar. Then at dinner. I do love Aussies but the accent is not mellifluous. Surprisingly, they did not know Bindi Irwin or Crocodile Dundee. We asked and we were stunned that they weren’t friends with either of them.

·       Sue Ellen Peed & Harmony: I don’t know how to describe these two. Any written picture I create will not do it justice. I don’t need to exaggerate in any way because the truth is something you cannot make up. Sue Ellen Peed and Harmony showed up on about the 3rd day we were there. Sue Ellen Peed, we come to find out, is a regular. The GM greeted her at breakfast. Sue Ellen Peed had been there in October of 2021 was back in May 2022 and would be back again in September 2022. Sue Ellen Peed was not French Polynesian but was covered in traditional tattoos like the Rock or Jason Momoa. She had long dangly earrings that made her earlobes sag. She was a big gal and rocked that string bikini like there was no tomorrow. Harmony was her friend that was into crystals and spun around like a lunatic on peyote. They were from LA but didn’t seem to know each other very well. They were not lovers, in my opinion. My take is Sue Ellen Peed is somehow loaded and brings a friend to Bora Bora multiple times a year. Harmony was the lucky recipient in May 2022. They seemed to have a nice time but the whole dynamic was just very strange. I’m not doing the nuttiness justice.

·       Shelly Smeller: We have a friend named Kelly Teller. We found her legit doppelganger in Bora Bora. We named the doppelganger Shelly Smeller. That’s the end of the story.

·       Back Tat Newlyweds: There was a considerable amount of bad ink at the St. Regis but Back Tat Newlyweds were the icing on the cake. Cursive writing on him. Some sort of bird that basically spanned her entire back. There was in public conversation of restraining orders against old girlfriends. They took wedding pictures and we decided their only direction to the photographer was to ensure that the pictures adequately showed the tattoos in their butt cracks.

·       Marketing Coquette: There was a young French woman who had just started working at the resort in the marketing department. We decided to call her Marketing Coquette.

·       Army Rage & Breakfast Harpie: There was a really strange dynamic at this hotel. The amount of couples who appeared to be on a trip to the middle of nowhere to save their marriage. It was pronounced. Couples who very clearly hated each other and did not want to be there together. Unable to speak to one another. Looked miserable. Quietly arguing. Is this normal? Do people spend a zillion dollars to save their relationship? Is it because of children? I don’t get it. That level of misery doesn’t seem worth it. Army Rage & Breakfast Harpie absolutely loathed one another. They had a spat in the gym. They had a very tense breakfast where he walked away, went swimming, came back to eat and they never exchanged a word. She took a work call from breakfast and had the gall to complain about the Wifi. He constantly wore a t-shirt that read “Army” and she complained at every breakfast. Sadly, we were seated near them on more than one occasion. The third time I said I’d prefer a different table because it was so uncomfortable. I couldn’t take it. I just don’t get it. Am I naïve? In my head, I just assume that couples want to be together ESPECIALLY on vacation. I just don’t have that kind of anger inside me.

These were our most favorite friends while in Bora Bora. We loved our experience and this creative outlet. My next post will get into the specifics of the resort and all the extravagance that we experienced.