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dreeki · 2 months

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ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹ dance jam.

pairing: dancer!ni-ki x dancer!y/n

syn: y/n is new to the dance studio known for being the home of nishimura riki's dance team and goes there with no crazy expectations. nishimura riki has other plans.

warnings: none(?)

note: eng is not my 1st language, not proofread // ni-ki is both a dancer and a seasonal dance teacher assistant :]

+note: this is heavily inspired by my life and the things that have happened during some of my dance classes ^^

wc: 1.1k

☆ you anxiously woke up at 9am the morning of your first dance class at ni-ki's studio. it was a scary feeling to think that you would have to begin again, even with 10 years of experience under your belt. you were starting to outgrow your old dance studio; even with some great teachers, they were used to only teaching younger kids and you had just recently turned 18, making you unfit for the studio anymore.

luckily, you had been following nishimura riki, the greatest dancer you have seen, for some time and knew that the studio he went to was also open to older students, since he was only a few months older than you.

this seemed to be a great opportunity; in the past, you had wanted to go to his studio before but something, maybe fear, kept you from going.

the 2h class only started at 6pm, so you spent your morning and lunch fidgeting and pacing around the house like a madman. when it was time to get ready, you just picked a pair of sweatpants you had on your desk chair and a freshly washed baggy t-shirt. you packed your dance bag and made sure you didn't forget your water bottle and the black converse you were to change into before class.

once you arrived at the foreign building, you tried your best to go to the right practice room. after walking around the building for a good 3 minutes, you saw a group of teenagers around the same age as you huddled up at one of the rooms' doors. inside you could see through the glass door riki preparing the room for your class.

standing in between the unknown faces of the strangers that shared the same interest as you was a very awkward feeling. you wished to be a bit more open but it was just too hard. maybe once you start dancing it will be better; you've been told many times that you become a different person when you're on stage or dancing, so that calmed you down a bit.

the first thing you and the other students did, along with the teacher and riki, was to warm up really well. that's when you started to feel more at home. after that, the tall boy had to demonstrate the choreography you were about to learn in the following hour. watching his videos online was one thing, but seeing him so close and in his element felt like winning the lottery. it was almost an undescribeable sentiment; he looked so cool and charming while dancing and anybody noticing the way your eyes sparkle watching him smoothly move his body could tell you truly admired the boy.

now it was your turn to learn the combination of moves riki has previously showed the class. usually, you were a quick learner when it came to dance, but there was one certain move that you couldn't quite get. the teacher gave you a small break to take a breather and drink some water after she told everybody that if they have any questions you were free to ask her assistant.

suddenly, a small crowd of people was formed around ni-ki, so you waited a few steps further to ask your question. without meaning to, you heard the conversations started with the boy. "can we take a picture?" "can you sign this for me, please?" "would you be able to follow me back?" and so on.. that was until he let out a frustrates sigh and asked loudly if anybody had any questions related to the dance. "my moment to shine" you thought and stepped closer to ni-ki.

"hi.." you said quieter than you wanted to. the boy simply nodded waiting for you to continue. "i'm having trouble with this one move; i'm not sure what the timing is for it. could you please show me again?" the boy's gaze was so intense while you were speaking, maybe because he had a hard time hearing what you were saying over all the noise, but one thing you knew was that the stare made your heart race. "yess, of course! here, pay attention" and that's exactly what you did. "thank you so so much!!" "no problem!" and so, you returned to your place in the back with the whole choreography learned.

it took awhile for the rest of the dancers to memorize the entire dance and you were patient, as usual.

finally, it was time to be put into groups and for one lucky person to do the combo with the teacher and riki. some people don't get chosen at all, since there's too many people and too little time and that is what you thought your fate would be. but, ohh, how wrong you were. "now for the person that gets to dance with me and the amazing teacher we have here.."

ni-ki carefully scanned the place for the face he was looking for. following his gaze, you almost passed out when out of nowhere his eyes landed on you and the two of you made eye contact. "you!" what?! you looked around but everybody was just looking back at you. "yes, you!" it was the teachers time to speak. "riki and i decided you really compliment our dance style and we really love your fluidity!" wow.. you were ecstatic to hear that, especially since it was your first class after leaving your studio.

the recording went by in a flash and there you were now, checking to see if it was a good take. you were very satisfied with it, so that was your first and final take. after everybody else was done with their groups, the dancers listened to a few final remarks that were said and soon, you were all dismissed.

pleased with your performance that evening, you were heading to the changing room when all of a sudden someone grabbed your wrist in an attempt to stop you in your tracks. startled, you turned around, shocked to be met with the tall, charming figure of your favourite dancer, the one and only, nishimura riki.

"heyy!" he said in a tone meant to mask his nerves, but you could tell he was a bit hesitant for some reason. "hi.." you anxiously replied, thinking that maybe you had done something wrong during the class. "i was wondering.. are you interested in joining my team? i carefully watched you today and, i have to say, i really like your style and the way you prepare for a performance!" you looked at him in shock.

"oh wow.. are you serio- really?" "mhm!" he nodded cheerfully. "oh my god.. this is crazy but yes. yes it would be an honour to be part of your team!" "thank god!" ni-ki exhaled relaxed, as if he had passed the hardest exam of his life. "i was really scared you would refuse; a dancer like you must have many teams wanting to scout you" "you would be surprised to find out that i am actually on my own right now!" you laughed. "not anymore!" ni-ki brightly smiled at you.

who knew that this one singular class could change your whole life...

a/n: tysm for reading this fic!! 🫶 let me know your thoughts about it in the comments! if you liked it, likes and reblogs are much appreciated ☺️

#enhypen #enhypen niki #ni ki #nishimura riki #enha #enha x reader #ni ki x reader #enhypen riki #dance #ni ki fluff #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #ni ki scenarios #ni ki imagines

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oh-surprise-its-me · 1 year

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Roy/Jamie prompt: Roy has to fly out somewhere for a recruitment event. When Jamie takes him to the airport they say goodbye, both of them holding back tears. They are absolutely miserable without each other, especially when something happens that delays the event so Roy has to stay for a bit longer. Roy is an even more glowering and grouchy version of himself and even though he secures several new prospects for Richmond, he just can't bring himself to celebrate. He goes to his hotel room just wanting to call Jamie and go to bed, so imagine his surprise when he opens the door to find Jamie Tartt waiting for him wearing nothing but a pleased little smirk and love shining in his eyes?

🚨WOOP WHOOP THATS THE SOUND OF THE HORNY POLICE 🚨

(It’s okay anon we can be bunk mates in jail)

Roy fucking loved zoom calls. He could mute people, he could not talk, he could have Jamie in the room and no one would know.

Fucking in person recruiting. Fucking Josh who got the date wrong so he’s flying in tomorrow. What kind of name is Josh anyway.

He knows he was more of a grouch then usual, but in his defense he had to cancel his 9am flight back to Jamie.

London.

Home.

Jamie.

Whatever the fuck. It doesn’t matter now because Josh made him stick around for another three days.

Josh had better have a foot touched by god and all the fucking wisemen.

Roy slams his room key into the sensor. It blinks red.

Fucking seriously. He slams his way back into the elevator, fuck it might as well call Jamie.

It rings for a good few seconds before he picks up.

“Roy! How’d the extra first day go?”

Roy leans against the wall watching the number tick down. “Hell. I want to strangle Josh but I can’t because he won’t even be here until tomorrow.”

Roy hears their bed squeak, Jamie rolling around. “That fuckin sucks. I miss you.”

There’s a hint of something in Jamie’s voice. He can’t quite tell what. “Did you at least do anything fun today baby?”

Jamie laughs, Roy can picture him perfectly in their bed sheets tossed around, bare skin for miles. He wishes he wasn’t standing in the lobby of a hotel getting a new key.

“Nothing crazy. Bought some new sweats. Planned out a hike to take Phoebe on.”

“I love you.”

He hears Jamie sigh, “I love you too, miss you like crazy. I hate to cut this short but I think Marigold is caught on something I’ve gotta go love you!”

Roy opens his mouth return the sentiment but just hears the beep of the tone.

Christ this key better work.

He slams it into place again, green.

He opens the door and sets the bag down, weird he doesn’t remember leaving a lamp on. Probably house keeping.

He walks into the room.

Jamie.

Holy shit Jamie.

Jamie laughs, Roy must’ve said that last part out loud.

“Baby why are you here??”

Jamie gets up off the bed, Roy now notices Jamie is in fact not wearing any clothing. “Thought I’d surprise you, had Beard deactivate your room key so I’d have a bit of warning.”

“You little prick. How.

“Movie magic baby. But really I’ve got a lot of unused miles and couldn’t take another three days.”Jamie runs a hand across and down Roy’s chest, lightly toying with the waistline of the jeans.

Roy lunges forward, he shoves Jamie back onto the bed, flips him over.

“You aren’t leaving this bed tonight, or in the morning. You are going to fucking limp and look like you belong to me by the end.

Jamie let’s out a moan, “please god Roy touch me.” He reaches back and grabs a handful of hair lightly pulling to try and make Roy go faster.

Roy starts biting his was from neck to ass, he’s not going to miss a spot, they’ve got time.

—

“Roy I can’t fucking stand is this how are we supposed to go sight seeing.”

“Baby you are the sights, keep complaining and I’ll spank you.”

“Ooh honey don’t threaten me with that.”

*the smack heard round the world*

#ted lasso #jamie tartt #roy kent #jamie x roy #fluff #royjamie #thanks for the ask !!#again I bitched out and didn’t write it #but someone else totally could *wink wink*

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focsle · 2 years

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“I wish you a Merry Christmass at Home” 2nd mate of the whaleship Arnolda Benjamin Boodry wrote in the margins for his entry on this day in 1852. He consoled himself with his lot with a refrain he wrote often over the years: “But it is not for life if it is for 4 years”. On Christmas eve, he shared where his subconscious was spending its time:

“A pleasant dream about home and loved ones I wish I was there to night I think I should call on some of my friends if it was not to late But there is many a calm, squall, and gale to pass over my devoted head before that day comes.”

Holidays tended to bring out the sentimentality in many whalers who were so long and far from what they felt was home. Here are a handful:

Allen Newman, Edward, 1848

“I wish all my friends A merey Christmus which is more than I anticipate for myself.”

Mary Lawrence, Addison, 1858

“Christmas Day reminds us of home and friends. Minnie wished to hang up her stocking as usual, and as I had a tin of candies which her grandpa put up for her, “Santa Claus” managed to fill it very well. We sat down to a Christmas dinner of two roast turkeys, sweet and Irish potatoes, boiled onions, stewed pumpkin and cranberries, pickles, and a nice indian pudding made of milk and eggs. Had a goat killed for the benefit of those living in the forecastle, to which, I should think, they did ample justice as there are but two legs remaining.”

Joseph Dias, Ocmulgee, 1847

“Comes with strong breezes from the westward and overcast weather, steering S.E. with all sail set. This day I am 25 years old 25 what and not married yet are like to be shocking. But this is not all I am disapointed in. For I have been keeping Marys cake to celebrate my birth day with and this morning I took it out for the pourpus of eating but when I come to cut it I found it was spoiled a sad disappointment. But what grieves me most is to think I let it spoil after Mary took so much panes with it Oh dear Mary I hope you will not spoil so soon for the want of some one to take care of you.”

John Winslow, Wave, 1852

“Comes with a strong gale of wind from the E.ward this day My Wife is 26 years old if she is living and has got a poor sailor for a husband but it is not the worst for her for that May she live to enjoy many more years of Life and may they prove to be far happier than those that are past”

[Dec 26th]

“O if I could make 250 dollars this voyage I would not go to sea any more for it is a dogs life and sometimes when I think of the comforts of my home with my Wife and children I almost resolve never to go to sea again let me get a home of my own and I will stay by it.”

J.T. Langdon, St Peter, 1849

“The first part calm not a breath of air ruffled the face of the stormy deep. But with an ever rolling motion rocks our old ship like a vast cradle and the surface of the deep is like a vast mirror reflecting objects on its surface The first part ends Christmas and how many melancholy reflections come around unbidden and unasked for One year ago I was at home enjoying every pleasure that heart could wish friends to cheer and schoolmates to greet with a merry Christmas but now I am far away on the stormy ocean Many thousand miles intervene between this and my once happy Home”

John Martin, Lucy Ann, 1841

“As fine a day as we have had since we left the Capes of Delaware. The Watch on deck was employed in breaking out from the hold, bread, water, vinegar & other stores. We had Turtle Sea Pie for dinner. Take it altogether we spent a merry Christmas & more to my satisfaction than many a one I spent on shore.”

Benjamin Bourne, Annawann II, 1859

“[in the margins, alongside a stamp of a whale’s flukes] This Whale aught to have been saved - stove the boat Wish All a Mary Christmas Begins with a strong wind Bark steering S at 3 pm wind shifted to the Estrd a heavey rain squall took in sail to a close reef Main Topsail & staysails luffed to the wind heading SSE. Lat part at 9am saw a large sperm whale going slow into the SW so ends this day. [With an addendum on Jan 29th, 1899] I thought I was having a hard time 40 years ago but it was the best of my life.

Silliman Ives, Sunbeam, 1868

“The wheels of time have made another revolution and Christmas “Merry Christmas” is with us once again, although I can’t complain of being particularly merry, on the contrary I am rather inclined to feel somewhat sad. O Fate! Inexorable fate! that compels me to spend this holiday miles away from home and kindred, far out upon the surging billows of the Atlantic. Little did I think while enjoying the pleasures and amenities of this festival season one year ago among relatives and friends, that to day would find me here. But it is not given us to know the future, and it is a wise providence that withholds from us such knowledge, for had I known this was to be my destiny, any joy would have been sadly marred during that happy period. I wonder if the dear ones at home as they greet each other this morning, and exchange those endearing mementos common to this day, have a thought for their wild and reckless though still loving son, and brother, and cousin, who to day is separated from their hearths and homes by leagues and leagues of blue water. As the incense arises from off the family altar on this Christmas morning, is there a prayer breathed for the wanderer? I believe there is. Love conquers distance and in their hearts and their prayers he has his accustomed place.”

#long post //#awhalin #GOT KINDA SAD COMPILING THESE….love all u….#I’m fine and used to spending holidays alone but there is somethin about….goin through the journals of these lads also spendin them alone #LOVE ALL U LADS SO MUCH….

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xxgoldenheart · 1 year

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notes on my game’s main cast:

(keep in mind that this story is a WIP so many details are undecided, such as their specific ages and details in their backstories, and may change in the future)

ROWAN (protagonist):

- he/they (prefers to usually be referred to as ‘he’)

- a knight in his late 20s

- responsible (he’s a knight so he kinda has to be…)

- has a good relationship with his family and friends

- wanted to become a knight just like his big sister wanted ever since they were little

- LOVES birds. loves to get up early to go bird watching

- is a bookworm but most of the books he reads are about birds

- he has like 10 notebooks that he draws birds and writes about them as he goes bird watching

- he himself has a bird !! and said bird comes along during the game’s story despite him trying to leave it in his parents’ care at their house

- SUPER sentimental. mf has an earring thats literally his bird’s feather that fell out once.

- biggest want: to bring justice to all those who deserve it!! and protect the kingdom

- biggest fear: failure, just in general. he doesnt want others to suffer due to his own mistakes

WILLOW (rowan’s sister):

- she/her

- a knight, three years older than rowan

- responsible-er than rowan

- has a good relationship with her family and friends

- had some really shitty friends at one point so she now has trust issues. she has like. 1 knight friend aside from rowan and beau bc of this

- LOVES cats

- has vitiligo so she saw a cat with vitiligo when she was little and pointed it out to her parents excitedly and was like “look!! that cat looks like me!!” and thus her cat obsession begins

- now that she is an adult, she has a calico cat!! and its 2 years old <3

- LOVES baking. not cooking, but baking. bread, pastries, whatever, she loves baking it.

- you walk into her home at 8 in the morning with the scent of fresh bread wafting through the house

- she would be a plant mom if she had more time but she’s busy enough as is

- due to being busy she often leaves her cat in her parents’ care (rowan does the same with his bird)

- biggest want: protect her loved ones. JUST her loved one. there could be an infant on fire and she would still run to rowan first even if he just had a scraped knee (this is an exaggeration i promise)

- biggest fear: loved one (rowan, beau, her cat, rowan’s bird, her parents, or her knight friend) dying

BEAU (rowan and willow’s childhood best friend):

- he/him

- knight same age as rowan

- SO IRRESPONSIBLE how on earth did this man become a knight

- struggles to take serious things seriously (humour is his coping mechanism)

- is in denial whenever anything bad happens ever

- he grew up rich and his dad disapproved when he decided to become a knight alongside rowan and willow instead of inheriting the family business

- his relationship with his parents is a little strained bc of this but they still get along most of the time and love each other

- cares a LOT about fashion (when hes not working ofc)

- he has the BIGGEST wardrobe it’s literally overflowing bc he spends so much money on new clothes and so much time sewing his own clothes

- he constantly makes new clothes for rowan and willow <3

- loves snakes!! they go hsssssss but they make excellent sentient necklaces and look so adorable in tiny hats

- is NOT a morning person. 8am? five more minutes. 9am? five more minutes. 10am? five more minutes. 11am? five more minutes. 12pm? ok maybe he’ll get up now but first, five more minutes

- biggest want: to get with rowan !! he has the biggest crush <3

- biggest fear: getting crushed by a tree

#writing stuff #writeblr #game idea #my ocs #ocs #control game

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kirstenlinae · 2 years

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Trying to shift

I attended a Zoom OA meeting today. I wanted to join one at 9am and then again at 9:30am but, the passcodes for the meetings wouldn't work for me on my zoom account for some reason. Then there were a couple of meetings that just didn't start at all, I waited like 10 minutes past the meeting time for both and no host came in to start them. Very frustrating. However, I did find one that I like and I will try to make it a habit to go to again on Wednesday mornings at 10. It was a small meeting, only 6 of us. All the ladies were older than me, most of them much older. That doesn't matter to me, though. I figure, the older the members are, the more wisdom that they have to share. In the beginning of the meeting we talked about tools for recovery and today's assigned tool was the eating/meal plan. It seemed like this particular meeting didn't assign itself to any strict regimen as far as a meal plan goes, everyone had a different definition of their own eating plan. I was asked to share and I did a couple of times where it was relevant. Everyone posted their phone number in the chat, including me. I haven't received any texts just yet but, one of the members I talked with after the meeting had invited me to speak at another meeting that is on Friday nights, about my sobriety from drugs and alcohol. I told her that I couldn't this week because I work second shift on Fridays usually but, I could request off for a Friday in the future and call in to this particular meeting. It felt good to have my sobriety recognized so quickly, even though I'm technically still struggling from an addiction (food). Before we parted ways, she said, "I hope your food brings you peace today." I appreciate that sentiment. I only have a little bit of anxiety from what I ate for "breakfast," however, I have a plan for the rest of the day and I am confident that I can stick to it.

I would like to try one OA zoom meeting a day for a little while. Find a few that I would like to attend regularly. As I mentioned in a previous post, there are couple that are pretty local to me but, they are held during the days/times that I usually work, also. So, unless my schedule changes or I request off, the in-person meetings are not conducive to my regular work schedule.

I have been thinking about discussing a few things with my dietician at our next appointment. I could call her but, I want to wait to see how the next month goes and I want to see what the psychologist says regarding my evaluation for surgery. If the psychologist is good at her job, she will see what I already know. I don't know that I am ready for surgery so quickly. I think I would benefit from a longer monitored diet regimen, some more OA under my belt, and some more food addiction-related therapy as well. I also think it would benefit me to make my own diet plan, tailored to the one I am already on for surgery. I think I need to make more concrete plans/goals for myself because right now, that concept seems foggy to me.

In other news, my interview for that full-time job got rescheduled to next Tuesday. Pretty annoying but, I worked for that company before and honestly, it doesn't surprise me. Since applying for that job, however, I have been thinking twice about going back to work full-time. For one, my biggest housekeeping client said that she is referring me to one of her friends so, I could potentially get another house in my schedule. Second, in order to make moving to full-time even worth it (meaning, quit housekeeping and working part-time), I would have to make at least like $18/hour and I know that place isn't going to pay me near that. I would be surprised if they did, let's just say that. Lastly, I need the flexibility of working part-time because of my myriad of doctor's appointments, my responsibility to take my boyfriend to work every day on second shift and my housekeeping clients that I've made a commitment too. Plus, my small business is growing...which is what I set out to do 6/7 months ago, anyway. I think I would like to work somewhere other than the hotel, though. This morning, I applied to two different Torrids that are kind of close to me. We'll see if anything happens with that, I guess.

That's all I've got for today. I have to get ready for work in a bit. Until next time <3

#journal #personal #OA #overeaters anonymous #gastric bypass #gastric surgery #bariatricsupport #food addiction #bariatric surgery

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foxilayde · 2 years

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Half of You (Chapter 3) [Santiago Garcia x fem!Reader]

CH. 1 CH. 2

Summary: What's a romcom without a little tragic backstory, huh? Tragic backstory and muffins.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Mentions of death, mourning, talk of pregnancy.

A/N: I want to thank you guys so much for all the lovely comments and tags on the previous chapters of this story, it means the world to me 💚 This is going to be kind of a slow burn, mmmkay? I want Vin and Santi to simmer good and long before we add the spice because we want that payoff to be delicious. Enjoy!

You don’t knock when entering Santiago’s home anymore, not in the mornings, at least. You know you’d never catch him in a compromising position in his kitchen or living room, especially not at 9am. He is military clockwork. The ISS could set its time to Santiago’s morning routine. He’s up at 6 every day for a weighted vest run. Sometimes, when you’re up at that hour and just laying in bed, you see him jog past your window at 6:04 and always back at his front porch again by 7:00.

For the past two years, with almost no exceptions, you’ve been getting up every morning, making some kind of breakfast, and bringing it over at 9, or around nine. You’re not as punctual as Santi and sometimes the muffins or breakfast bars or whatever you make aren’t ready on the dot like his routine, but he never complains.

It wasn’t really like you were doing this for Santi, this was a structure for you. This routine of taking care of someone, being expected at someone’s home at a certain time to feed them. Not that Santi needed to be fed, the man could subsist on protein powder and supplements if needed. It was the promise you made to him….

How worried he’d been for you in the early weeks following Jay's death. When he wouldn’t see the lights of your home turn on all evening despite knowing you were inside. How he’d knock and sometimes you couldn’t find it within yourself to even tell him to go away; instead silently crying into the pillow that your head couldn’t leave.

Santi had been at a loss. He was grieving too and could only turn his pain into work. Toughing out the emotions through tasks.

It had been an odd morning about two weeks after the funeral that you saw a pair of legs sticking out from under Jay’s car in the front driveway. You were so pissed that someone was fucking with Jay’s things that you went outside for the first time in over a week, in your pajamas (a pair of Jay’s sweats and one of his giant cotton t-shirts) no shoes, and kicked the intruder in the thigh, hard enough to hurt your own toes.

“Get the fuck away from that car! I’m calling the cops!” You screamed, not caring that Mrs. Rosenthall was walking her little dog across the street, slowing her pace to watch the domestic scene play out.

“Fuck!” The hidden man shouted grabbing his thigh and in the process of reacting to the leg kick, he audibly hit his head on the underside of the car, giving another prolonged “Fuuuck.” Before scrambling out from under Jay’s vintage Mustang.

“Santi? What—What are you doing?” You cross your arms over your chest and wait for him to get to his knees, wiping off the oil from his hands onto what are clearly work pants.

“I’m changing the oil and then, if you’d be so kind as to not club me in the head with a wrench, I was going to replace the spark plugs.”

“Replace the spark plugs?”

“Yes. After the oil. Jesus, you kick like a horse.” He groans, rubbing his definitely bruised thigh over his dark blue pants.

“Sorry.” You mutter, meaning it but not really projecting culpability. How were you supposed to know it was him? Santi dives back under the car and you gasp affronted. “You can’t have his car you know. Just because he’s— you can’t, it’s not yours.” You sound like a child, unable to even express basic sentiments and the ones that you can express are stubborn and selfish. It’s the way you’ve come used to talking in the past few weeks.

Santi makes a frustrated sound under the vehicle and you don’t know if it’s because of your words, or if its a particularly stubborn nut he’s prying.

He emerges from under the car again after a few silent moments of you shifting your weight from foot to foot. Santi brings out a pan of dirty oil with him and wipes his brow with the back of his dirty forearm.

“I’m not angling for the car, Vin. It’s not my style. The fucking color alone, dios. But if you just let these things sit here, unused and unserviced, they have a tendency rot, ok?”

The metaphor feels like a personal attack, an attack on your inability to honor Jay’s memory by letting his car go to shit, an attack on your own inability to take care of yourself down to the routine maintenance of tooth brushing.

The tears come again and you let them fall pathetically. “Jesus, will I ever stop crying? I didn’t know this many tears could exist in a person.” You laugh in woe at the hard understanding on Santiago’s face.

Santiago brings you into his arms. He holds you and lets you ugly cry into the dirty fabric of his shirt. The oil and armorall smell reminds you of Jay and all his Saturday mornings spent under that fucking car.

Jay would come in after an hour or two, depending on what needed to be done, or how distracted he’d get on the maintenance if Santiago showed up to help. Tack on an extra hour if they decided it needed a ‘test drive’.

You always had breakfast waiting for him when Jay came in; oily and sweaty. Sometimes he’d come in and grab you from behind with dirty hands to which you’d shriek and demand that he needed to take a shower before he ate. You regret that now. You miss his big strong arms and you you’d give anything for the stains of his embrace. So you shift tighter into Santiago’s hug.

“I’m filthy.” He says apologetically. Probably realizing you’re in One of Jay’s nicer cotton shirts, definitely not something he’d wear to work on the ‘Stang, and he doesn’t want to ruin it.

“I don’t care.” You insist through tears, clutching his torso like a port in a storm. Santiago rubs your back, up and down like soothing an infant. You even hiccup like one.

“Do you wan’t to come in for breakfast?” You sniff. “Please.”

“You don’t need to make me breakfast, Vin. You should probably rest.”

“No. No, I don’t need to sleep. Please?”

Santiago hesitates. You can feel his head turn to look at the car.

“Spark plugs first, then I’ll go home to shower, then I’ll come back for breakfast. You need me to bring anything?”

“You don’t need to shower.” God, it comes out so starved. Your emotional regulation has gone to absolute shit and you realize for the first time that the feeling that has been eating you up is a little thing called loneliness.

“Vin, it’s okay, I’ll come back.” He pats your back and you pull out of the hug, wiping your tears and snot on the back of your forearm, looking down at your barefeet on the gravel.

“Eggs.” You nearly whisper.

“Eggs?”

“Eggs. Bring eggs. I don’t think ours are— mine are any good.”

Santiago showered and came back with eggs and you made food in your kitchen for the first time in weeks, fresh food, a meal that wasn’t a condolence casserole.

It lifted your sprits up so much that you begged Santiago to come over the next morning and then it quietly evolved to you bringing the baked goods over to his house. The responsibility did so much to haul you out of bed on days that threatened to swallow you into the folds of your comforter, on days where all you’d want to do was watch the day grow bright and fall dim without performing a solitary meaningful action.

Two years had passed. There were hardly any mornings nowadays where you felt the pull to sink into sleep and waste the day in unconsciousness. You were excited to get up every morning to see your friend. And on days when he would be gone due to the nature of his work, you’d braved up and made other friends in the neighborhood, bringing them freshly baked scones or a pitaya bowl if it it was too hot to bake. Just something. A reason to get up, to greet someone.

Santi’s home is immaculate, like always. He’s the type of single man who takes pride in a cleanly appearance, wether that’s a learned behavior from the military or if he’s always been tidy from childhood, you don’t know. The granite countertops are spotless and he’s perched at the barstool with the morning paper. His hair is still slightly damp from his morning shower and he scowls over the sports page, shaking his head at some news or other from the top fold.

“I hope you like crasins… and walnuts.”

“Jesus, Vin!” Santi startles from his stool and tosses the paper down.

“That’d be a no on the crasins then?” You laugh and ruffle the back of his curls as he settles back down into his seat. You grab a couple plates and napkins, setting a crasin muffin down on each one before pouring yourself a cup of coffee from the pot into your designated yellow mug (a trinket Santiago had made at a Color Me Mine double date from 3 or so years ago).

“You ever think about knocking when you come over?” He takes a bite from the muffin and hums pleased.

“Knocking? I’m hurt. So all that mi casa su casa talk was just for show, Garcia?”

Santi closes his eyes and slaps the counter. “Mmmm, this.” He points at the muffin and gives you a thumbs up.

“You like it more than the cinnamon rasin bread from yesterday?”

He wipes his mouth off on a napkin and gulps from his coffee mug. “That was good too.”

You take a bite of your own muffin and hum in agreement. “Oh yeah, that shit’s delicious. Adding this one to the roster for sure.”

“Uh, roster, don’t remind me.”

“Why?” You gesture to the paper “was there a tragic drafting in the world of fantasy football? Should I fly the flag at half mast?”

“Pretty dismal. Do you want to hear about it?”

“I mean, you can tell me anything, Santiago, but I’m not going to understand a word you’re saying.”

“Uh huh, I figured. I’ll spare you the tragic details and sum it up with ‘I think I’m going to lose a big chunk of change to the boys this week’ but, hey, at least I’ve got these muffins.”

“You can’t have them all, I was going to bring the rest over to Mrs. Rosenthal.”

Santi makes a quiet noise of indignation and pulls the plate of muffins closer to himself.

“Not to Gertie! You know her little fur ball was barking till past midnight? Right outside my window. Again. She doesn’t deserve muffins.” There’s a twinkle of teasing in his eyes and you sigh and relent, squeezing between your fingers the bit of tum that sits above his belt.

“You’re starting to turn into a muffin. I spoil you too much.”

With a full mouth, Santi shoves the plate back in your direction and frictions his fingers clean of crumbs.

“Take em!” He shouts dramatically with a mouth full of muffin, pushing his stool back and taking his plate to the sink to wash it by hand.

“I like the tum by the way, it’s very becoming… and the dad bod is fitting, you know, considering…”

You trail off and Santi turns around wide eyed, drying his hands on a dark grey tea towel. “Do you mean…?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know, not yet, not for a couple weeks… I mean I could be right now, and I— I wouldn’t know.” You’re beaming, eyes alight with excitement. “I’m nervous!” You clap your hands quietly together. “That’s why I made so many muffins this morning, I’m just ugh, bouncing with the anticipation— HEY what are you doing with my coffee, Garcia?!” Santi dumps your full cup of coffee down the sink and starts on hand washing your yellow mug. The barstool scrapes as you get up to retrieve your mug from his soapy hands.

“You can’t be having caffeine! It’s bad for the baby!” His upper arms are strong as he blocks you from getting your hands on the mug with his back turned to you.

“Bad for the baby? How do you know that?” Santi dries your mug with a clean towel and sets it by the electric tea kettle, flipping the blue switch on. When he abandons the mug to grab some tea from the cupboard, you snatch it and hide it behind your back, making your way sneakily over to the coffee pot as he rummages for something on the shelf.

“I’ve been reading up about it.”

“Reading up about it?” You’re not really listening to him, simply parroting his words as you quietly pour yourself a new cup of delicious dark roast coffee.

“Aha! Got it!” He holds up a box of celestial seasonings tea, eyes getting wide as he sees you taking a sip from the piping hot mug.

“Vin!” He cocks his head and holds out a hand, and the way his eyes narrow on yours, glinting with resoluteness makes you sigh with defeat and hand him the steaming hot mug.

He rinses it out once again without complaint and you examine the box of “ugh, herbal tea?”

“Yep.” He pops the ‘p’ of the word. There’s no arguing with Santi.

“I might not even be pregnant, you know.” But the proffered information is pointless. You know what he’s about to say before he even says it.

“Yeah, but you might be.” It’s exactly what you knew he was going to say.

“I never read anything like that.” But it’s a lie. You have read things like that, but of all the things? Coffee? How are you supposed to live without coffee?

“Well maybe you should read harder. I have a book you can borrow.”

“You have a book?”

“I’m not done with it yet, I’ll let you read it when I’ve finished.” Santi pours the boiling water over the teabag and you almost cry when he places the mug into your hands. In a last ditch effort to get your way, you pout your lips out and fix him with a defeated stare.

“After all the muffins I’ve made for you. Now this.”

“Nuh uh, Vin. Just try it.” He ruffles your hair in a very ‘you’ move and chuckles when you stomp your foot in a petulant show.

You sit back at the stool and blow on your tea before taking an exploratory sip. It’s not bad, but you scrunch your face in disgust anyway.

Santi shakes his head at you and takes a big gulp of his own coffee. “Mmmm, that arabica roast. Delicious.”

“You shit.” You mutter taking another gulp from the chickory tea. It’s really not too bad. You’ll have to take a picture of the box so you can get some more from the store later.

“I don’t mind playing the villain, as long as our baby won’t have a third arm from the bio hazard levels of caffeine you consume on a daily basis.”

Our baby. Our baby. Our baby. Your eyes go wide and Santiago backtracks. “I didn’t mean ‘our’ baby like that, I meant your baby… of course.”

A few beats of silence fall between the two of you.

“I’m sorry, I shouln’t—“

“I’ve been meaning to—“

You both speak at the same time and laugh awkwardly. Santiago gestures to you gently. “Please, go ahead.”

“I… I was just… well you signed all the papers Renatta gave you, and I’m sure that you, being Mr. ‘I’ve been doing my own research’, you read the whole release contract?”

“I did.”

“So… how involved did you… how involved are you intending to be with the baby?” The baby. Neutral. Not “my”, not “our”, “the”. Safe.

Santi scratches his smooth jaw and licks his lips deliberately.

“I guess I’ll be.. I wan’t to be…”

Your heart stops for a second with the intensity of his pause, your head swims and flicks through future images at a thousand miles a minute. Santiago holding a little baby’s hands as it takes its first wobbly steps, shushing a wailing baby to sleep in a nursery that doesn’t exist, singing lullabies, scrunching his nose at a dirty diaper, hiking trips with a toddler on his shoulders, tee ball practice. You shake your head to clear the whole little lifetime that unfolds rapidly in fantasy form.

“I want to be as involved as you let me.” His eyes meet yours then. And you nod unthinking at the brilliant umber depths. “If you want me to be their uncle, their neighbor, their… whatever. I’m,” he takes in a breath that fills his whole chest, “I’m okay to be whatever you need me to be.”

“Okay.”

“Well how involved do you want me to be?”

“I don’t know.”

“At all?”

“No.” Your voice sounds small and all of a sudden you feel like you’re being interrogated.

“Haven’t thought about it one bit?” He presses.

“No.” But the no feels like a lie. Because of course you’ve thought about it. You’re thinking about it right now, seated next to him in his immaculate kitchen.

“That tracks.” He scoffs and goes back to his paper, flicking the pages open with agitation.

“Hey!” You push his fist down and hold his clenching fingers lightly with your own. His face looks hurt. “I don’t really know right now. It’s— this is all new to me, Santiago.”

Santi nods in understanding but still looks as though there’s something on the tip of his tongue that he’s trying to reign in. “I’m sorry Vin. You…” he unclenches his fist and takes your fingers into his warm palm, holding them with reassurance. You stare down at your joined hands, unable to meet his understanding eyes. You don’t deserve how kind and patient he is with you. How giving he’s always been with you. His nature makes you feel fucking guilty at times. “You take all the time you need, Vin. I’m not going anywhere.”

“No?”

“No. I live right next door.”

You smile at him. “Thanks, Santi.”

He lets go of your hand and pats it. “Plus the real estate market is a nightmare right now,” he takes another sip of his coffee which sloshes slightly when you shove his shoulder. “I’d be insane to sell in this economy.”

“You shit!”

Santi smiles and goes back to his paper with a smile and genuine interest.

“What are your plans for today, officer.”

Santi scratches his eyebrow, “I need to hit up Home Depot to get some fresh wire for the weed whacker. How about you?’

“Oh my god, thats perfect!”

“Glad you think so, seeing as how I’ll be treating your lawn too.”

“Are you taking your truck?”

“Uhhh, yeah?”

“Becasuse… if you could, if you’d be so kind…”

Santi rolls his eyes, “What do you need?”

“There’s this little outdoor plant shelf from their weekly ad that I want to get. Plus this osmosis water filtration thingy, but what I really need your truck for is the plant shelf.” You temple your fingers at your lips in hopefulness.

“Thought you said it was ‘little’?”

“Uhhh…. Comparatively.”

“Compared to what?”

“Compared to my car.”

“Vin…”

“And I know what you’re thinking. You think that I’m going to force you to build the plant shelf for me.”

“Bingo.”

“But its pretty simple, I think I can do it myself!”

“Uh huh.”

“I will need to borrow your zzzz zzzzzz gun, though.”

“My what??”

“Don’t play dumb. Your bzzzz bzzzz gun! The think that can drill stuff?”

“My drill, you mean?”

“Yeah. Probably.”

Santi scrunches up his face and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“And the osmosis filter?”

“What about it?”

“Is it an internal or external component?”

“Uhhh? Elaborate?”

“Is the system under the sink or to the side of the sink?”

“Oh! Under.”

Santi blinks at you. “And where will the filtered water come out of?”

“A little spigot with a lever on the side of the main faucet.”

“You know you’ll need a drill for that one too? Plus you’ll need to shut off the water main? I…. Vin, did you know this?”

“No… but I did taste the reverse osmosis water and Renatta’s the other day and ugghhh I need it! She said it wasn’t hard to install.”

“Really? Did she install it herself?”

“No. She hired someone.”

“You’re insane.”

“I can figure it out, Santi! I don’t need your help! I just need your truck to fit the planter desk thingy.”

“Fine.”

You clap your hands and Santi sighs, grabbing his keys and sunglasses. You push past him out the door with the plate of remaining muffins

“I just gotta drop these off at Gertie’s and grab my purse, I’ll meet you at your truck!”

“Careful!” Santiago barks at you as you jump over the low hedge toward Mrs.Rosenthal’s house. You nearly stumble and spill the plate of muffins on her driveway. You turn to see Santiago standing on his porch with his sunglasses on his head, both hands on his hips and shaking his head at you with a slight smile. He really would make a great dad.

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

Taglist (if you'd like to be added or removed lmk!)

@miraclesabound : @reallystressedhoneybee : @blackberries45 : @plz-and-spank-you : @bit-dodgy-innit : @rnlaing : @stevenngrant : @sharin4readers : @hebelongstothestars : @stardustbells : @alwritey-aphrodite : @libraryreservations : @eroticandawkward : @tripleheartx : @johnny-simpfinger : @fangirlfreakingout : @jake-g-lockley : @lunawants : @andromeda-dear : @writefightandflightclub : @oscarsbabe : @marshmallow--3 : @luminescentlily : @laters-gators : @astroboots : @clementineremembers : @lovely-cryptid : @nerdygirl0414

#Santiago Garcia x Reader #Santiago Garcia x You #Oscar Isaac #fanfic

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dameronology · 3 years

Text

cold coffee in the morning {poe dameron}

summary: aka the one where you and poe can't seem to work out your commitment issues, and also the one where c3po is the unsung hero (based loosely on the song by ed sheeran)

warnings: language, brief innuendos

enjoy! idk why i'm writing this at 3am but we mooooove

- jazz xx

Poe Dameron had never needed another person before - then he met you, and the idea of ever existing as an independent being for the rest of his living years had suddenly seemed like the most unappealing thing since Luke Skywalker's blue-milk cheesecake. The way you'd whirlwhinded into his life with your gorgeous smile and contagious laugh had knocked the usually-suave pilot completely and utterly onto the floor. Bruised ass aside, he wasn't mad about it. He was happy to have you in his life in whatever way you'd let him.

And what way that was exactly, he didn't know.

You were friends; close, close friends. Bonded for life through your shared goofy humour and seemingly-endless banter. Then you did things that friends didn't normally do - at least not in Poe's experience - and you would act like it was nothing. As if your nights spent together and the whispers you lost between the sheets meant as much to you as the things you did for your other friends, like stopping Finn from tripping on his shoe laces or picking up R2-D2 when he toppled over. It was as though every-time you crossed that line, you immediately regretted it; then, a few days later, you'd decide that you missed Poe, and you'd repeat the same mistake again and again, like you were trapped in a time loop of love and pain.

The feeling would stay with Poe for days; your hands tangled in his hair, his skin against yours, laughter rippling through clashing teeth and soft lips. The way you fell beside each other, sharing highs and secrets and inside jokes; the way you would reference one of your late night talks in shared conversations with friends, and his brown eyes would flick to the ground, cheeks burning red at the fact you'd remembered. It made his heart-rate pick up and palms sweaty.

And sometimes, just sometimes, it would make up for the way you'd leave in the morning; the way he'd arise to find a you-size hole in his bed and heart, and a cup of half-finished caff on the side. With his brain tinged with the remains of a hangover from the previous night, he'd pour the cold beverage down the sink and go about his day.

Poe did manage to catch you one morning; he'd purposely set his alarm so that he would stir earlier than you and rest assured, you were still dead to the world when he came around. The sun outside was still rising, the sky a dull pink-and-blue, the day fresh with hope and brimming with potential for heartbreak. It felt unnatural to see you quiet and peaceful, and not running your mouth and poking fun at anyone who would listen. There was a reason that C3PO avoided you like the plague - it wasn't his fault he was an easy target.

"You watching me sleep, creep?" You murmured.

"Just enjoying the view." Poe replied. He rolled over, crossing his arms behind his head. "You're usually gone by the time I'm awake."

You peeled one eye open, your one-eyed glare enough to send a shiver down his spine. "Don't be passive aggressive, Poe. Just say it."

"Isn't it a little early to be so feisty?"

"Isn't it a little early to make back-handed comments?" You shot back.

"Sorry. I was trying to find a way to bring up such a touchy subject."

You reached across to squeeze his check. "And you did a great job, curly."

"Alright, that's enough of that." He swatted your hand away. "I did want to talk to you about it, though."

"What is there to talk about?" You sat up, brow furrowing.

"You're confusing." Poe began. "During the day, we're friends. At night, you can't keep your hands off of me."

"It's kind of sexy and mysterious." You tried to joke.

"Sexy and mysterious is tiring."

"Sexy and mysterious is also late for work." You quipped.

You rolled out of bed, reaching for your strewn clothes. Without thinking, you pulled one of Poe's shirts over your head, grabbing your boots and socks. So many of his clothes had just snuck their way into your wardrobe - all of your friends had noticed it, but none of them commented on it. Everybody knew that there was something going on between you, but they were wise enough than to point it out. There had been one new guy who tried to ask, but he'd quickly been shut down.

"I'll see you tonight?" You asked, tugging on Poe's your jacket.

His brown eyes lingered on the floor for a moment, before flicking towards you, holding your gaze in a chokehold. "I don't think we should do this again."

You wavered for a moment, a wave of guilt clouding your judgement for a moment. This had never been about feelings - at least not for you. It had just a bit of fun; a bit of fooling around with a hot pilot. You hadn't meant to get in so deep, or get to a point where you were dismissing his feelings in favour of your own. It was more of a survival instinct than anything - breaking his heart to save your own.

That was it: lack of trust, presence of fear. All things that stopped you taking the full plunge, simply for the worry of letting him hurt you - or worst, you hurting him. Maybe it was a little late to start worrying about the latter. That ship had sailed a long time ago. Maybe it had sunk too.

"Poe-" you began, before pausing. "I have a lot going on in my life. I just don't have room for anything real right now."

"I thought the same." He was still staring right at you. "So I made room."

"It's not that simple." You reminded him. "It's not like...decluttering a room. I can't just Marie Kondo that shit and declare my love for you."

Poe froze at the mention of the L-word. It had been an elephant in the room for a long, long time - but it was outdone by the presence of bigger elephants. Like the ongoing war, and the fact that mortality had never seemed so fucking relevant. It was something you wanted to put a pin in for later, but later wasn't something that was guaranteed these days.

"Fine." He shrugged. "Good talk."

The guilt weighed on your brain for days, like a lead hat made of bullshit and regret.

You hadn't realised how much of a hole Poe Dameron left in your life until he was gone -- it was massive, like someone had broken into your home and ripped out two of the walls during a harsh winter storm. Everything felt a little colder and more confusing, and the amount of times you'd had to resist temptation to find him and beg for forgiveness was astounding.

The only reason you hadn't done so was because you knew what you would have to do. Give into your feelings, and let yourself become fully and entirely his. Let him into your life and into your heart. All the bullshit you'd spewed about not having room had been just that: bullshit. You didn't need to make room for him in your heart when he, entirely and wholly, was your heart. And he'd taken a little bit of it with him when he walked away - well, when you'd walked away.

Is this how it felt to be the villain?

"Is everything okay, master?" The sound of your favourite droid brought you back to the present. "You're being uncharacteristically quiet. On average, you've usually said 356 words by 9AM."

"You keep count?" You glanced up from your paperwork, eyebrow quirked. "I'm fine. Just tired."

"Eight of ten times that you've said that, you haven't been fine-"

"- just give it a rest, Threepio." You cut him off. "Please?"

"If there's anything I can help with, let me know." He replied. "A droid's logic can be surprisingly helpful."

"I'm fine but thank-" you stopped in your tracks, pondering for a moment.

Logic. That was certainly something you lacked - the part of your brain that was supposed to be rational was too busy thinking about hot pilots.

"Master?"

"Sorry." You blinked. "Maybe I'll have your input on something."

"Please, go on."

"I love someone and he loves me." You said. "It's just very complicated."

"If a problem can be reduced down to seven words, I would not class that as a problem." Threepio said. "I would say a problem is at least thirty words or more."

You thinned your eyes at him. "What are you saying, goldilocks?"

"Perhaps, your problem is only a problem because you think it is." He replied. "When you lay things out and look at them logically, it can make more sense."

"Logic isn't my strong-point. You know that better than anyone."

"You love Master Dameron and he loves you-"

"- I never mentioned names."

"My apologies." Threepio said. "I was simply reading the room."

"Right."

"Remove your emotions, and those are the facts." He continued.

It was bad enough when Poe was right, but it was even worse when C3PO was. But, for all his theatrics and whining, he was right. Decisions made with logic rather than emotion always had a better outcome. It was plain and simple: you and Poe loved one another. Everything else - your fear and his dismissiveness and your collective confusion - only existed because you let it. But your feelings for each other? That was something you couldn't help.

"Right - thanks." You murmured. "I'll be right back."

You quickly stood up, tossing aside your datapad and immediately exiting the room. The base was small, and Poe was never that far away, even when the room was on the furthest side of the base. It was also your favourite place in the entire camp; it was covered in photos of you and him and your friends, and it was always warm. The mixture of sentimental clutter and little knick-knacks, paired with the gentle smell of his aftershave clinging to the sheets and clothes scattered around, made it feel like an actual home.

You didn't bother knocking - that formality had gone out the window long ago. Instead, you took a deep breath and gently opened the door. There was no certainty that he would even be in - you could only hope. The chances of him being anywhere else were pretty slim.

They'd worked in your favour today, because Poe was stood by his coffee machine, a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was wild and curly and there were still drops of water on his back.

He turned around when he saw you, brow furrowing. Mostly because he had never seen you so breathless and sweaty, but also because he hadn't expected you to ever talk to him again. He'd always known you to stick by your decisions - he normally admired your stubbornness, but as of recent, it had been fucking exhausting.

"Hi-"

"- I love you." You suddenly blurted. "Hi."

"I-" Poe paused, putting down his coffee. "What?"

"I love you. More than anything in the world, ever." You shrugged. "That terrifies me, but I can deal with fear."

"You can. You're pretty bad-ass." He casually nodded.

"Right." You smiled. "I'm sorry it took me so long to say that."

"Hey, it's okay." He gently smiled. "Come here."

You met half way across the room, bodies colliding in a tight hug. His warm, post-shower skin felt like heaven against yours, large hands dragging up and down your back. He consumed everyone one of your senses at once, but mostly, he consumed your ability to think. Your brain was so over-loaded with feelings that the rest of it completely broke down and malfunctioned - kind of like the time you spilt coffee on BB-8.

"I love you too, by the way." Poe gently murmured. You let out a small chuckle.

"I know." You smiled.

"What made you say it now?"

"Threepio said something about logic." You muttered. "The only logical thing for two people who love each other to do is be together, right?"

"I mean, I can think of other things-"

"- Poe!" You whacked his shoulder.

It was though you had untangled your feelings, and the only thing left was a line that went straight from him to you.

"You're right." Poe said. "Thank you for realising it."

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "Thank you for being patient."

"It's worth it." He couldn't help but grin. "Do you want some caff? It's still warm."

tags: @anetteaneta @poestardust @marvelinsanity

#i want a POE now please #idk why i even wrote this #hoe well #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron blurb #poe dameron x reader #poe imagine #star wars fanfiction #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #star wars fluff #star wars x you #star wars angst #star wars imagines

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dorotharry · 3 years

Text

tiny dancer ; chapter two

Pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

PROLOGUE | CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 3

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: torture, nightmares, angst, let me know if there's anything else :)

Summary: After being drafted for the war in 1942, Bucky goes to the ballet a week before having to leave with his best friend Steve. There he becomes infatuated you with the prima ballerina of the show, and he just has to meet you before his last week in Brooklyn is up. He hopes one day you would meet again; little does it know it will be 72 years later.

A/N: honestly I have no clue where I’m going but I’m hoping you’re all still following. There’s still soooo much to go into readers past and yep, it’s gonna take a while but I hope you enjoy this. Please feel free to give feedback, like and repost it would mean a lot! :)

MY MASTERLIST

*gif not mine

1943

Your head felt groggy, as you woke up. Not enough energy from an ounce of your body to open your eyes for the time being. The more your body woke up from the darkness of slumber the more the pounding of aches and pains became less subtle and started to fill each and every muscle. You weren’t sure where you were or what had happened, but you suddenly became aware that your surroundings weren’t familiar. The air was too cool and there was an eeriness from lack of noise.

Finally, you were able to pry your eyes open. The colours swirled around you into one, until they became to create recognisable shapes. Although this wasn’t somewhere you recognised, just as your mind had thought even before getting to look around.

You were laid down on a metal ‘bed’ if you could even call it a bed. The coolness of the metal began to get to you a shiver running down your spine and you attempted to get up. Only to be restricted. It was now when you noticed you had straps holding your ankles, down, but not only this; there was a limpness to your form. In fact, you didn’t have any real connection to your muscles. As if a switch had been turned on in your head you realised, this wasn’t a bed. It was a table.

Suddenly your anxiety rose. In an ill attempt to do something you turned you head groggily to the left, only to be met with machines, and hospital devices. You took in a sharp breath. This definitely wasn’t a hospital so why the machines? Rolling your head to the right with just as much difficultly as last time you were met with darkness. The faint sound of feet shuffling in the distance, and the whirring of more machines.

Almost as if whoever it was had realised you were awake, a bright white light turned on above you causing you to groan from the sudden contrast to the previous darkness. The footsteps became louder, as whoever it was approached you from their hiding spot.

“Ah you’re awake,” the voice started, “you know you gave our men quite a difficult time back there. Are you going to behave this time?”

Your voice barely was able to respond, only a hushed whisper came out, “Who are you? Where am I?” This worked to rejog your memory as you saw flashes of men running after you, as you had leapt from this same table. You had gotten pretty far and fought back fairly well but this place… whatever it was; was a maze. Realising now that amongst being kidnapped and knocked unconscious. Your first attempt to escape was probably why you were in pain all over. A vision of a few men jumping on top of you and beating you unconscious. Again. That must have been why you were tied down this time.

“I think you know the answer to that.” the small man with glasses responded appearing finally out of the darkness. “…We’re HYDRA, and you y/n...” He spoke reaching under your chin in a condescending manner. “…Were firstly going to be a pawn against your stupid Captain America. But you’ve shown promise, something our other soldiers don’t have. Neither your American ones. My guess is it comes from your ballet training.” He shrugged as he moved away from you, turning and looking for something. Suddenly his hand was on a switch and machines began to rumble.

“Please,” you responded choking on your own words, “please just kill me!” You knew something was coming, otherwise why would be so aloof.

He chuckled at your words as he stood behind you. “The red skull doesn’t want me to do that, he needs more soldiers, and that’s exactly what we’re going to make you.” And with that you saw a metal machine slowly being dropped down over your left eye, and below your right jaw, causing your panic to rise. As quick as the unbearable pain started, so did darkness.

Present day ; 2017

You woke up screaming as the pain of what had happened almost a century ago shot through your entire body. You fumbled out of bed in a sweat like you did most nights. Heading towards your small kitchen in your small apartment. It was filled with greys, no life within in, you felt there was no need, why celebrate a life with no life?

Your life had changed in so many ways after 1943. You were one of HYDRA’S many toys, the many men that surrounded you called you tiny dancer, but not in a kind way, in a misogynistic arrogant way. Most people at that time though saw you as a weapon, something to be feared of, and they should have.

After you had stumbled upon the Winter Soldier on a mission in 2014 working as a freelance agent having cut your ties with HYDRA mere months before hand, it was only a few months when so had Captain America. From what you had heard amongst assassins under the radar living in Madripoor like you, it hadn’t gone well for HYDRA and now the Winter Soldier was nowhere to be found, invoking fear within many who had made themselves enemies to him. But you were sure his best friend would be looking for him. Whilst you had decided to go against helping him, Steve was not that kind of person.

Time had not been kind to you, you were no longer the frail girl who could fall in love in a week. In fact, you weren’t sure if you actually could feel love anymore. HYDRA had to make sure there was no collateral. Still once you saw him that night you wondered how amongst your many years with HYDRA, how you had never run into Bucky: The Winter Soldier. You had heard of the winter soldier, but you never knew it was Bucky behind the ghost of a person. Probably on purpose, HYDRA had been in your mind. Tthere was no doubt they knew who he was to you back then.

Not only did it invoke these thoughts, but it had led to your retirement. Well not your retirement, you were still about 25 years old on the outside, and though nor Steve or Bucky knew you were alive you knew how it felt to be in their position.

Hiding out in your small apartment in Madripoor was where you had spent most of your life since 2014, staying on the down low in case HYDRA somehow re-emerged, looking for revenge on a project they had wasted so much time on. You.

You weren’t sure why they were so surprised people like you hated them with so much anger. They had taken your life, Bucky’s life and made you weapons against your will. You didn’t hold their values, it was forced upon you.

You shook yourself from your thoughts again. You only got sentimental after nightmares, and the nightmares had been pretty continuous after seeing Bucky those few years ago, so really you were sentimental most mornings. You think it had something to do with seeing him and how it brought back memories you didn’t even know you had.

Reaching for a bottle of water, you took a sip looking over at the clock that read 3am. You groaned, knowing that you’d probably never have a good night’s sleep again. Terrible payback for a terrible past. No sleep for the wicked.

You shuffled yourself back to your room getting into bed and turning on the tv as a way to mindlessly distract yourself until you actually had to do stuff.

A few hours past until it was 7am, and you decided you could at least go for a shower before your day at work. Working at a bar that opened at 9am wasn’t exactly high class living; especially when you had to deal with drunks so early in the day, so it definitely required more motivation than most jobs. You couldn’t do what you were originally good at, dance. And you’d decided you probably shouldn’t be doing what you were trained for. Killing people.

Turning on the shower to allow it to warm up, you rid yourself of your clothes, suddenly aware of how stiff your muscles were after another bad dream. Stepping in you let the water try and wash it away, and though it did help you knew it would only reappear tonight in another form of a nightmare. You closed your eyes sighing in content, and it did last for a brief moment until you heard banging on your front door.

At first you tried to ignore it, but it got louder and more aggravated and suddenly your heart had fell to your stomach, resorting to thinking of the worst that could be behind that door. Getting out you threw some clothes back on. You reached under your bed grabbing your shot gun, holding it close to yourself as you slowly walked towards the door that had started banging again. Times like this you wished you had a peep hole to look through.

You turned on your best poker face and opened the door abruptly to be more hostile. Only you were met with someone you didn’t know, though for some reason you felt you recognised. On the other side of the door stood a woman all in black, her hair was in a blonde bob and for a brief second you thought you saw a reaction flash across her face like she knew you too.

“Is this y/n?” she spoke firmly and with poise.

You raised an eyebrow, “Why?”

“Is it?” she returned her poker face staying on her face.

“Yes.” You huffed, the half-amused face falling from your face, returning back to the glare you constantly wore. “Who are you?”

She raised her hand for you to shake her face accompanying it with a small smile, which you hesitantly took.

“Nice to finally meet you y/n, I’ve been looking for you under Fury’s instruction for a while, my name’s Natasha.”

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Note

Rach could you please do something soft like it’s maxwells birthday and you and alastair plan a small birthday party ( just the three of you) and he is so overwhelmed with love he can’t believe he got so lucky after everything ❤️ then you tell him you’re pregnant.

Also no pressure to write you can totally ignore this 😊

Birthday Surprise [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader]

Warnings: pregnancy, allusions to sex, food mention, mention of infidelity/cheating, mention of poverty

Word Count: 3200>

A/N: It’s April 1st which means it’s officially Max Lord’s birthday! <33 Thank you for all the Max requests people have sent in over the past week. They’ve truly been a joy to write. & Thank you @supernaturalgirl for this lovely request. I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Once upon a time, Maxwell Lord had these big, extravagant parties to celebrate his birthday. He’d host at fancy venues and it would be formal, strictly black-tie, and only the elite were invited. But the truth was, he was incredibly lonely. He had no friends, only colleagues and business associates. His wife would hang on his arm, wearing real fur, and Chanel couture earrings, parading around the room, flirting with other businessmen who might’ve been more successful than Max.

He didn’t like his birthday. Growing up, he didn’t celebrate much either. The Lorenzano family could barely afford to buy Maxwell new shoes or clothes that fit, so expecting gifts and parties was the last thing on his mind. Every year though, without fail, his mother would cook him a small cake and light a candle. “Make a wish, Maxwell.” she’d whisper. It was funny how things turned out.

And when he married for the first time, it was his wife who insisted on these big, luxurious celebrations with balloons and music. The attention was nice, sure, but it always felt like it was more for her than it was for him. He’d never say anything though. Just smile and nod. As long as she was happy. She sure seemed happy when Maxwell caught his wife with her tongue down another man’s throat at his 32nd birthday party. Thankfully, that marriage soon ended, and whilst Maxwell swelled with heartache for a good few months, better things were soon to come.

Like meeting you.

About a week before Maxwell’s birthday, Alistair was... hyper, to say the least. It was way past his bedtime, and yet he was bouncing up and down on yours and Max’s bed, clearly trying to get his father to leave the room.

“Daddy, could you go make me some french fries?”

Maxwell peeked up from his newspaper and furrowed his eyebrows together. His son’s question even ruffled you slightly, as you looked up from painting your nails and tilted your head slightly.

“Alistair, it’s eleven at night. No french fries.” Maxwell sighed before looking back down at his newspaper.

Alistair hummed, looking around the bedroom.

“Daddy, did you remember to feed Lady her evening biscuits?”

Maxwell looked up from his paper again, and stared at his son.

“I fed her this evening,” You said, trying to work out what kind of mischief Alistair was getting up to now. “Ali, is everything okay?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” The six year old replied, and well, it was a fair response. You and Maxwell exchanged a glance before getting back to your business. About ten seconds passed.

“Daddy, can you make me some warm milk?”

Maxwell sighed, this time dropping his newspaper completely and rubbing his tired eyes. “You don’t need warm milk Alistair.”

“But I’ll struggle to sleep without it.”

“I’ll go get you some,” you told the child, but Alistair quickly extended his arm, stopping you before you could get out of bed.

“No mommy, you’re sick. Besides, I asked daddy.”

You blinked, taken slightly aback. Alistair was a sweet child with wonderful manners, that much you knew, but even his decorum right now took you by surprise. He was speaking like a fully grown gentleman. Processing his words, you simply shrugged your shoulders before shuffling back into bed and getting comfortable.

Yeah, you’d been throwing up the past few days, in the mornings mostly, but you’d drawn it down to food poisoning. It was sweet how Alistair was seemingly looking out for your health. Maxwell’s gaze flicked between you both but, in defeat, he got out of bed and padded downstairs, into the kitchen to prepare his son’s bedtime beverage. Once he was gone, and you could hear him begin to steam the milk, you snapped your fingers to get Alistiar’s attention.

“Alright Ali,” you sighed, folding your arms across your chest. “What’s going on? Why have you been trying to get your dad to leave the room for the past...” you checked the time on the alarm clock which was positioned on Max’s nightstand. “Half an hour.” Gods he was persistent. Just like his father.

“We need to do something special for daddy’s birthday.” Alistair announced, and as he uttered the words, you already knew that there was no room for questioning him. He and his father were similar in that sense too.

“What do you have in mind?” you wondered out loud. You knew Maxwell’s birthday was approaching, despite your husband never talking about it. You hadn’t even thought of what to get him yet, which was a problem.

“A party. But not like the ones daddy has for work,” Alistair explained, referring to the many galas Maxwell had hosted in attempt to gain sponsorship and investments for his company. “Like, a small tea party. Just us. All his favourite snacks and the birthday cake granny used to make him when he was a kid. I know it’s his favourite. And balloons and banners and streamers. I can draw a picture. And music. And—“

“Okay okay baby slow down, I see where you’re coming from,” you smiled, pulling Alistair into your lap. “And I like the idea. Do you know if your dad has ever had a small party like this before?”

“I don’t think so.” Alistair replied softly and you nodded in understanding.

“Well, we’ll have to make sure it’s perfect. We can start planning tomorrow morning when he goes to work, okay? But keep your mouth zipped tight Ali, it has to be a surprise.”

———

The day of Maxwell’s birthday started like any other. He left for work at 7:30, his driver waiting for him outside. He graced you with a quick peck on the cheek and told you he couldn’t wait to see you tonight. Now, Maxwell hadn’t uttered one word about his birthday in the past week, but even today, he hadn’t mentioned it. You’d planned on giving him his present this morning when he woke up, but your nerves got the better of you.

You’d waited to give him this gift for a week already, you could at least wait a few more hours until he got home from work.

At 9am, your best friend arrived with an abundance of helium balloons, birthday banners and streamers. At 9:30am, you tried to help Alistair pick out a smart outfit, although he was begging to wear one of his new Star Wars Ewok costumes.

“How can you eat all the cake if you’re dressed as a massive teddy bear?” you asked the boy. He sighed, knowing that you had a point.

Alistair looked adorable in his button down shirt and pants. You even fished in Maxwell’s closet to find a bow tie, hoping it would complete the look.

“I look like dad.” Alistair mumbled, fiddling with the wonky tie that you’d haphazardly wrapped around his neck.

“Exactly. You look wonderful.” you grinned, enveloping him into a massive hug.

At 12, you figured it was the best time to begin baking the cake. But to do that, you needed the recipe. When you called Ms Lorenzano, your heart blossomed upon hearing the excitement in her voice.

“Oh darling! Hello! It’s so lovely to hear from you.” she spoke into the phone, and you could just imagine her smile on the other end of the line. It was identical to Maxwell’s.

“Hello Ms Lorenzano,” you greeted, nervously curling the telephone wire around your finger. “How’ve you been?”

“I was just packing away my groceries. I got the bouquet of flowers you and Maxwell sent me yesterday. They look beautiful on my dining room table. Thank you, darling. They really lighten up the room. How is my son? Is he there?” Ms Lorenzano quizzed.

“Max is great, actually. He’s working at the moment but we were thinking about flying out to see you this weekend. If you weren’t busy? Alistair misses you very much.”

“Oh that would be wonderful! I’ve missed my little cherub so much. Let me guess, a big party planned tonight for my Maxwell’s birthday?” She beamed.

“Not quite. It was Ali’s idea to plan something small - a tea party of sorts. He was telling me about this vanilla frosting birthday cake you used to bake when Max was younger? And I was hoping you’d share the recipe with me. I’d love to try and recreate it… although my baking skills are nowhere near as good as yours.” you giggled.

“That recipe has been passed down our family for generations,” Ms Lorenzano explained and you felt your heart sink into your chest. By neither law nor blood, you weren’t family. Would she really not give you the recipe? You’d been dating Maxwell for years now. And Ms Lorenzano did always say you were like a daughter to her… “Of course you can have it.” she smiled and you felt a wave of relief wash over you as she began to list the ingredients.

“Thank you Ms Lorenzano, it was so lovely to speak to you. Max is gonna give you a call tonight. Take care, okay?”

“Okay darling. I send my love. Give Alistair a kiss from his ol’ granny. I will see you Saturday.”

Now, the smart thing would’ve been to call over the house chef and have her prepare the birthday cake. At least then, it would be void of any errors. But this was strictly a Lorenzano family recipe and the last thing you wanted to do was to disrespect Ms Lorenzano and immediately give it to the house chef. So, you figured you’d give it your best go. At least then it would be sentimental.

Maxwell was a fussy eater, only eating the most delicious and well presented foods. You weren’t sure if he’d even step a foot near this cake. As you stirred together the ingredients, something wasn’t right. It was lumpy and bubbling and -- no matter what, you just couldn’t seem to fix it. You called Alistair in, who had been colouring in a family portrait he’d drawn, to take a look, but of course, he didn’t know any better.

When the cake came out the oven, it was lop-sided and slightly burned. You figured it would be okay if you just covered it in the vanilla frosting and placed the sliced strawberries intricately on the top. But no. Luck wasn’t on your side today. The strawberries slipped off and the icing was uneven. At least you managed to put the cake on one of the fancy ‘special occasion’ plates. You could just tell Maxwell that it was made with love.

Ali helped you decorate downstairs, which proved to be a challenge. The rooms in Lord manor were extensively sized and tall, but you did your best.

“Ali, I’m going to quickly get changed okay? Would you do me a favour and bring down your dad’s presents from upstairs? You could place them on the dining room table.”

Alistair nodded obediently and did as he was told. You went up to yours and Maxwell’s shared closet and looked around, trying to decide on what exactly you should wear. You opted on a beautiful, fitted champagne coloured dress that glittered in the artificial lighting. It was one of your favourite gowns and you had worn it last summer at one of Black Gold Cooperative’s charity fundraising events. You knew how much Maxwell loved it too. If Alistair was dressed in his father’s bow-tie, and Maxwell always looked presentable, there was no reason you couldn’t make an effort to look good too. Besides, you didn’t know how long you’d have left before you wouldn’t be able to fit into these dresses anymore.

You didn’t have long before Maxwell was due to finish work. You quickly style your hair and adjust your makeup, before padding downstairs and into the dining room. Just like you had requested, all of Maxwell’s presents were neatly piled on top of the table, courtesy of Alistair.

“He’ll be home any second Ali,” you said, handing Alistair a party popper and adjusting the cone shaped party hat on his head. Alistair was absolutely beaming, his big brown eyes twinkling like starlight as he anticipated his father coming home from work. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Alistair grinned.

“Okay. Good. Let’s go find a place to hide.”

Ducking down behind the stack of gifts, you waited for about five minutes in silence, until you heard the front door unlock. Alistair squeaked excitedly, hearing his dad come home and you bit your lip, quietly shushing him but unable to contain your own smile.

Maxwell was surprised when he came home. He wasn’t greeted like he expected to be. Normally, every evening after his shift, you and Ali would run into his arms and envelope him into a hug. The lack of running and hugs concerned Maxwell. The house was dead quiet, and he even found himself wondering if either of you were home.

When he padded into the dining room and switched on the light, you and Ali jumped out and screamed in unison; “Happy birthday!”

Maxwell froze, his jaw dropping open and his eyes going comically wide. He was presented with an abundance of gifts, a decorated dining room, his son and girlfriend all dressed up, and a questionable looking cake with a wax candle stuck in the top. You and Alistair ran into Maxwell’s arms and hugged him tight.

“Daddy! Daddy! It’s your birthday! Look! We planned a surprise tea party all by ourselves!” Alistar squealed, tugging on his father’s arm.

“I- I- wow!” Maxwell gasped, genuinely speechless. You bit your lip and swayed your hips as you lovingly gazed into his brown eyes. You didn’t know what it was, maybe the fact the whole day was leading up to this moment, or perhaps just an imbalance with your hormones, but you had missed him so much. Just seeing him again made you want to weep in his strong arms. You loved him so much.

“Happy birthday.” you whispered, raising your hand to cup his face. He nudged his nose against yours and you kissed him sweetly.

“You did all of this for me?” He asked after reluctantly pulling away, still in genuine shock.

“It was Ali’s idea.” you replied, letting your body lean against his. You rest your head into his chest so much so that you could hear the rhythm of his heartbeat.

“You look… breathtaking, darling.” Maxwell hummed, his hand resting on the small of your back.

“Come sit down,” you said, taking his hand and guiding him over to the dining room table. “You have all these presents, and we have cake and music…”

“The cake…” Maxwell pointed and quirking an eyebrow. “Is that… it can’t be…”

“It is, I called your mom for the recipe.” You confirmed with a nervous smile.

“I-- don’t believe it. I haven’t had this cake since--”

“I know. Again it was Ali’s idea,” you informed him. Alistair looked bashfully proud as he anticipated the cake cutting. “I know it doesn’t look the best…”

“Are you kidding?” Maxwell asked, cutting you off. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Would you like to try some?”

“Would I like to try some?” Maxwell repeated incredulously. “Of course!”

You lit the candle and held hands with Alistair and Max as the two of you sang happy birthday. As Maxwell blew out the candle, you told him to make a wish.

“I don’t need to wish for anything. I already have everything I could ever want. Right here.”

Maxwell got a variety of miscellaneous gifts for his birthday. A porcelain statue of a dog, a small desk flag with his company logo on it, a basket filled with biotin supplements, and of course the artwork that Alistair had created earlier in the day. It was a beautiful crayon illustration of you, Max, Ali, and of course your cat, Lady Lord. Maxwell promised to frame it and put it on his desk at work. Little did he realise though, the best gift was yet to come.

Once Alistair was tucked into bed, you and Maxwell decided to settle down and have an early night. All the eating and dancing had exhausted you both.

“Thank you for today,” Maxwell mumbled, pulling the zipper down your dress. His warm breath fanned over the shell of your ear and you immediately felt butterflies in your stomach. “Why don’t we go to bed, hm?” he asked, peppering kisses down your neck and along your shoulders.

You knew what he was hinting at, and you wanted it too. Of course you wanted it too. But there was something you had to deal with first. You were so nervous but you knew it was now or never.

“I didn’t give you your birthday present.” you announced, turning around to look your boyfriend in the eye.

“Wh-- what do you mean? You didn’t need to get me anything. This was enough. You-- you, my love, are enough.”

You smiled, rubbing his bicep and finding yourself once again getting lost in his eyes. You took a deep breath and pulled him into the en-suite bathroom. Although confused, Max didn’t say a word, and instead, he watched you in silence as you unlocked the drawer under the sink. It was where you usually kept your cosmetics, but Max’s gift had been waiting in there for the past week, wrapped up in tissue. You took it out and handed him it.

You anxiously watched as he unravelled the tissue, only to be presented with a positive pregnancy test. Your positive pregnancy test. His eyebrows knotted together and you watched his Adam's apple bop in his throat as he swallowed. But then, only seconds later, his face softened and his eyes became glazed with unshed tears. “You’re… we’re…”

“We’re pregnant, Max.” you confessed, confirming his thoughts.

Maxwell choked up and wrapped his strong arms tight around you, squeezing you hard. “Oh my God, we’re really pregnant?”

“Mhm.” you giggled, as Maxwell pulled away and cupped your cheeks with his hand. He kissed you passionately and when he pulled away, his grin was ecstatic.

“How long have you known?” He quizzed.

“A week.” you admitted.

“A week?!”

You swatted his arm playfully and shushed him.

“I wanted it to be a surprise. We have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, to confirm it and everything. But with the sickness and… I can feel it, you know?” You took his hand and placed it against your stomach. “I can really feel it.”

“I love you so much,” Maxwell smiled. “I love you so, so much.”

“Happy birthday my dear.” you replied, guiding him back over to the bed. “I love you too.”

--------x---------

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

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naoyas90dayfiance · 3 years

Text

🌸Mornings with you🌸 | Choso x Reader.

Author's note: this is heavily inspired on The Way of the Househusband. If you like it, make sure to check out the manga ✨.

This is a gift for the wonderful @aurelius-divus, who encouraged me to write my first fic and I hope you like it bestie 💞

Choso's head pounded for the alarm clock went off. His eyes darted to the ringing device, and his fingers made his way to button on the top, sucesfully stopping it.

His rational side didn't understand why you wanted to have such an odd artifact in the bedroom; but his heart, knew that was because of the sentimental value it had: after all your sister gave it to you.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard your light moans of fatigue. A hand started to caress his defined chest. It was another morning in your household.

As the sun crept through the windows, Choso kissed the top of your head, making you look up to him with squinted eyes. He smiled sotfly and said:

"Good morning, beautiful"

You smirked and started to get close to his face to give him a chaste but long kiss on his plump lips. Your hand moved from his chest to his cheek, cupping it softly. His response was to draw figures on your waist, it was his way to let know that he enjoyed your gesture. After a minute, the kiss broke. You started to draw away from his body into your warm pillows, but not before he managed to plant a peck on your forehead and watching you go back to sleep.

His smiled disappeared when he realized he couldn't join you back to the slumber, as he realized it was 8AM and he had a job to do.

Choso got up from the bed, knowing by heart that he had only an hour to help you get things ready before leaving for work.

Without losing another precious second, he quietly went to your shared closet and looked for his clothing. He chose to wear a pair of white sweatpants, a matching shirt with the phrase "Best Brother" embroidered on each sleeve; on top of his lounge clothing, Choso put on his signature light pink apron with a red "Family First" print on the center. He looked himself in the mirror and felt ready for the challenge.

While making his way to the kitchen his thoughts were racing: he knew you were tired, your hands felt different today. So if he wanted for you to do well on your job, he had to prepare something energizing. His duty was to lift you up and he couldn't fail on it.

"What could I prepare for my little peach?", he thought. Suddenly, an idea came to his mind.

Arriving to the kitchen, he immediately turned on the stove, alligned the pots, grouped the vegetables and placed the fish on the counter. It was time.

After a few minutes, the half human curse had everything ready and on display: bunny-shaped rice balls, tuna-shaped steamed tuna and vegetables in forms of sea animals. Choso looked at his creation and puffed his chest proudly. He also prepared some hot tea that was hot enough for it to be on the perfect temperature after you have came out of your shower.

His eyes winded, he remembered that you haven't woken up yet and there were only thirty minutes left. You couldn't be late, your meeting was at 10AM and you still had to get yourself ready and have breakfast. Did he have to wake up? His feet started to move quickly to your bedroom but he stopped on his tracks when he heard the shower. His shoulders relaxed at the sound.

"My little peach just needed more rest", Choso said to himself.

Now he was certain that he took the right decision by making sure you had an amazing meal today. A soft smile crept on his face. He couldn't help himself, he loved to take care of you.

And so with a bright face, Choso proceed to clean the kitchen, open the windows and swept a little.

At 9:55AM you came out of the bedroom fully dressed and ready for work. Your eyes met his, seeing a glimpse of adoration for your presence.

"How did I get so lucky?", he wondered.

Choso walked up to you, a proud feeling invading his chest and gave you a warm kiss on your lips, he loved the mint flavor on them. In the moment, he couldn't help himself but put his hands on your waist and in response you put your hands around his neck.This gesture was enough of a "thank you" for him after all of the work he endured in the morning. The curse could feel his feet lifting off the ground as the embrace got longer.

When the kiss was over Choso uncounsciosly pouted. He felt the need for more growing on his chest, but he heard the 9AM's show theme starting to play on the TV. He knew time was up. Maybe another time you two could take it further. For now, he was pleased looking at you making your way the door, stopping in front of the mirror to give yourself a final glance.

He picked up your food and gave it to you in a beautiful box. Before you left, he said:

"I love you."

"I love you too." His heart skipped a beat.

You left to work. Choso stood in front of the door for a second, replaying all the moments he spent with you this morning in his head. He was looking forward to see you later, but in the meantime he had to get off cloud nine and settle himself in a more serious mindset.

He had to go to clearance sale at 9.30AM. Thinking about it made the curse's face grow sombre, he was going to face off fearful enemies in order to get one thing: the figurine you saw last week.

#jujutsu kaisen #choso x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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eddiemunsonssoulmate · 4 years

Text

Tattoo your name across my heart

Pairing: JJ x Pogue!Reader

Word Count: 5645

Summary: Everyone gets a tattoo with the name of their soulmate on their body as soon as they turn 17. Except you.

Warnings: Underage drinking, violence, implied sexual interaction

Available on: AO3

A/N: I’ve always been a sucker for a soulmate AU so here you go!

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

You were almost shaking in excitement. Tomorrow was your birthday and around 9.30am, the time you were born, the tattoo with the name of your soulmate would appear somewhere on your body.

When someone turned 17, it would appear somewhere. You were the youngest of your friends, so you were the only one without it. John B had been the first one to get his and lose it soon afterwards because as soon as you have sex your soulmate, it’s confirmed and the tattoo vanishes. He was quite happy with Sarah Cameron now.

You didn’t know Pope’s or JJ’s soulmate tattoo, the boys kept it pretty well hidden. Kie had shown you hers right after it had appeared, reading Pope on her hip. You couldn’t really imagine them together as a couple but all of the boys kind of seemed to have a thing for her, in one way or another.

Your thoughts were racing through your head, trying to think about who it might be and who you wanted it to be.

If you could make a wish, you’d say JJ. You’ve known him for quite some while now and even though he could be a dick sometimes, he somehow made you fall in love with him. He didn’t know, of course. You’d probably never tell him at least not without a soulmate confirmation. The friendship between the group was way too important, the “No Pogue on Pogue macking” rule wasn’t there for nothing. Probably another reason why Kie hadn’t made her move yet.

You twisted and turned in bed, not really falling asleep but you also weren’t trying really hard. If it was for you, you could probably just stay awake all night and wait. Your friends were supposed to arrive around 9am. They were adamant to celebrate that special occasion with you right when it happened.

Sadly, your parents couldn’t be here as they needed to work but the pogues were like your second family anyway. Your mom promised to prepare cake and breakfast for your little party.

At one point during the night the exhaustion of the day washed over you and you finally fell asleep.

The next morning you were literally jumping out of bed, noticing that it was already 8am. You needed to get ready before your friends came over. After a shower you picked out your clothes for the day and already heard voices downstairs. They had the habit to let themselves in without invitation which was fine by you but annoyed your parents from time to time.

“(y/n)!”, you heard John B yelling from downstairs and you were hurrying towards them.

“Easy there, don’t fall”, Pope said laughing when he saw you sprinting down the stairs, running right towards them.

They all pulled you into a group hug and they said their best wishes.

“Thanks, guys.” You grinned at all of them and JJ pulled out a gift from behind his back.

“It’s from all of you.” If you were honest, you didn’t expect a gift from them. They didn’t have much money to spend and you smiled, taking it with a nod before waving them over to the dining room where your mom had prepared the food.

“It’s all for us, so don’t be shy. Now let’s see what’s in here”, you said and put the small box down on the table.

It wasn’t heavy or anything, pretty light actually. You frowned a little when you unpacked it, only to find another box. You groaned and heard the others laugh behind you. That was so them.

After two more boxes you finally reached an envelope with a small piece of paper inside.

‘Voucher to pick your new pogue surfboard :)’

“A voucher for a new board?”, you asked as you turned around, holding the paper in your hand.

“Yep, thought you could use a new one but didn’t want to just get you one without your opinion. So, it’s just a voucher for now until we can go shopping together”, Kie said and the boys next to her nodded at you.

You grinned at them; you could really use a new one. “Thank you. You guys are the best”, you said and walked over to them, placing a kiss on each of their cheeks.

“JJ, you’re turning red”, John B whispered to his friend but you all heard it anyway.

“I’m not!”, he answered pouting and you looked closely at him. Maybe it was just your imagination because JB said something like that but it kind of looked like a hint of red on his cheeks. He was so adorable sometimes.

“Almost time!”, Kie said with quite some excitement. It was no secret that you’ve been the most excited about your soulmate reveal.

While most people dealt with it in secret, you were always curious what it would say, ready to share it with the world and take on the adventure to find your soulmate. You’ve always been a sucker for romance. Books, movies, tv shows, it didn’t matter. Soulmates were one of the things that fascinated you the most. People are finding true love because of a tattoo. Or maybe they didn’t because sometimes, it was one sided or not the kind of person they expected, so they refused the sign of destiny on their body.

Some people even removed it, not caring about it and just living their life. You understood that sentiment in a way, they didn’t want anyone or anything to tell them how to love and how to live.

“Close”, you said and stripped out of your clothing, simply wearing your bathing suit. As you saw the dumbfounded look of the guys you just shrugged. “What? It’s more exciting if you can actually see how it’s written on your body, as if an invisible hand would write it!”

“Actually, that sounds kind of creepy”, Pope said and shook his head with a small laugh.

You stuck your tongue out to him which caused him to laugh even more.

When the big clock in your dinner room started to ring your friends looked at you, eagerly awaiting while you were turning around, so they could check your back.You started to look up and down your body, expecting the tattoo to show up any second now.

You’ve been waiting for around five minutes when John B let out a huff. “I don’t see anything, what about you up front?”

You frowned and turned around to them, shaking your head. “Nothing.”

“Maybe it’s under your clothes?”, JJ asked and earned a hit on the shoulder from Kiara. “Hey! That was a viable question, I don’t want to see her naked or anything!”

“Let’s check that in the bathroom”, Kie said and took your hand, dragging out along as your thoughts were racing.Yes it could be that it appeared right under your clothes, maybe even a little smaller than you expected but that would be super weird. Most of the people had theirs on their wrist, arm or neck. It was really rarely under the feet, the butt or the inside of a finger.

You stripped bare in the bathroom, not really shy as you’ve been friends with Kie so long, you both knew how the other looked naked. Too much drunk skinny dipping to tease the boys.

“I...I can’t find anything”, Kie said and it made your heart throb.

“That’s not possible!” You started to turn around in front of the mirror again, trying to get a look at your backside. She must have missed it. “Maybe it’s just a really short name?”

“Like JJ?”, Kie teased and tried to cheer up the mood.

“Yeah maybe”, you sighed. Kie knew about your crush for the blonde and that you’ve been waiting to see his name appear. Now it seems like you had no name on your body at all.

You slowly got dressed again in your bathing suit and sat down at the edge of the bathtub, tears slowly forming in your eyes. Maybe it was just a little late. It would come in later, right? But what if it didn’t…

“Does that mean I don’t have a soulmate?”, you looked up at Kie as the first tear escaped your eye. She immediately sat down next to you and pulled you into a hug.

“I don’t know. I’ve never heard of that happening before.” She started to sniffle next to you, your situation hurting her too.

Someone was knocking at the door and you heard JB’s voice. “Everything okay in there?”

Kie looked at you and you shook your head. “I think I want to be alone”, you sniffled against her shoulder and she nodded.

“Text me later, okay?” You just nodded as she got up, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before moving out of the bathroom. You heard muffled and hushed voices outside of the door, only heard bits and pieces but you were pretty sure that Kie was explaining the whole situation.

What a fucking stupid birthday. Clearly the worst one you ever had. You were supposed to celebrate it with your friends, see who your soulmate was and have a small soulmate party. Maybe you even knew that person. Hell it could have been Rafe of all people but no name at all? That just hurt.

You didn’t know how much time passed before you left the bathroom and went to pick up your clothes from the living room, throwing them over your body carelessly. Back in your room you took your laptop and started to google frantically for other people who didn’t have a tattoo.

Thankfully, you weren’t the only one. There was an online community revolving about not having a tattoo, about not wanting one, ignoring it and so on. People who refused to follow their destiny, a premade fate. You caught yourself thinking the same thoughts, now that your chance was stolen for some reason.

When your parents came home later you almost fell into the arms of your mother crying, telling her you will never find a soulmate because there’s no one for you.

A few days had passed but you somehow felt like an outsider. Not within your group of friends but in your head. You should just brush it off and become one of those people that accepted their life without a tattoo and still made the most out of it and you were trying really hard but as someone who’s been waiting for this moment their whole life and it never appeared, it just hurt.

“So, what are you going to do about him?”, Kie asked as she sat down next to you on the pier in front of the Chateau. You knew exactly that she was talking about JJ. You had told her that if the tattoo revealed his name you’d make the first step, ignoring the pogue rule you’ve first established long ago when you were sure that none of you would ever fall in love because you’re more like a family, not lovers.

“I honestly don’t know. I’ve never seen his tattoo, I don’t know if he’s trying to find his soulmate or not and I honestly don’t want to ruin our friendship”, you whispered, kicking the water with your feet.

You looked back as you saw the boys piling up wood for a fire later and you sighed. There he was, sweating a little, his hair a mess and of course, shirtless. That sight has given you some nights where you couldn’t even sleep.

“I think you should tell him”, Kie said and smiled at you when you looked at her, giving you another encouraging nod. “I’ve seen the looks he’s giving you. Even if he’s not your soulmate, he clearly has a thing for you.”

“He has a thing for every female”, you laughed and tried to brush it off, anxiety settling in your bone just thinking about him not returning the feelings, things getting awkward between you two and maybe even the whole group.

“No, for real, (y/n). He really looked at you in a way that says there is more. Do you really want a tattoo to ruin your chance at love?” You chuckled when you heard Kie say those words, she sounded like one of the people from the community you’ve read about but you understood her point. “You can’t know if you don’t try.”

“Okay, okay. You’re right. I’ll tell him...tonight.” You nodded, more to yourself than to her. There was probably never a good time to tell one of your best friends you’re in love with them but it was today or never, you might chicken out any time.

“That’s my girl”, Kie exclaimed and clapped her hands together before getting up, grabbing your hand and pulling you back to the group.

It was slowly getting dark when you started the fire, JJ was handing out drinks and Pope made sticks with marshmallows on them. You had a great time at the fire, talked a lot but there was always the nagging voice in your head telling you to just move your ass. You’d do it, every minute now. Or maybe not.

Kiara has been throwing you looks the whole time and you sighed. You knew you should do it before JJ got too drunk to realize what you were trying to tell him but every time you were looking at him and saw him laugh your heart twisted with fear.

You took a deep breath and got up, walking over to him and holding out your hand. He looked up at you confused.

“Can you come with me? We need to talk.” Well that came out way more serious than you expected and you could punch yourself for it. Thankfully he took your hand anyway and you dragged him after you towards the pier, one of the places that could always calm you down.

“She's telling him?”, Pope asked after you were out of earshot and Kiara nodded.

“Yup”, she said and took another sip from her beer, her eyes fixated on you, trying to see what was going on in the darkness.

“I’ll kick his ass if he denies his feelings”, John B said and poked a stick in the fire a little more forcefully. He had always been quite protective of you.

After you arrived at the pier you stood there in silence for a moment, not letting go of JJ’s warm hand holding yours so carefully as if you’d break if he squeezed just a little tighter.“What’s wrong?”, he asked, his body clearly a little tense from the atmosphere you were creating with your silence.

“I...I’m…”, you couldn’t get the words out and swallowed hard, taking in a deep breath. “I’m in love with you. I have been for a while and I’m so sorry if I’m ruining our friendship now but I really wanted to wait until my tattoo appeared because I was sure you’d be my soulmate but then it didn’t show up and I didn’t want to tell you anymore and-”

You stopped when he let go of your hand and you could feel your heart break into a million pieces. You fucked up. JJ moved the bracelets and small ribbons on his wrists apart and relieved the black writing inked in there.

“It’s okay, (y/n) because I think you’re mine”, he said smiling at you and you read the name that was standing there over and over again. It was your name for sure but the thing with names was, they weren’t unique to people. There was only one way to find out and you were not ready for that.

He apparently saw in your eyes that you were about to question it and took your hand back in his, slowly rubbing over the back of your hand with his thumb. “I don’t care that you don’t have one because...I love you too. Have been for a while. I wanted to tell you after seeing your tattoo, so I don’t potentially ruin a future with someone you truly belong to.”

Tears were forming in your eyes and you rubbed your free hand over them, trying to wipe them away before falling. Maybe it was a good thing now that you didn’t have one because you could just give into your feelings now.

Which was exactly what you did, taking a step closer to him and pressing a kiss to his lips. It was shy and soft until he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close against his lean body, deepening the kiss.

You heard some cheering from the direction of the Chateau and laughed into the kiss, of course they were watching like hawks. They might not have seen a lot of things in the dark with only the moonlight shining down on the two of you but a kiss was pretty obvious.

Hand in hand you walked back to them, just waiting for the commentary the other three had to make.

A “took you long enough” from Pope, a “Finally” from Kie and a “JJ don’t hurt her or I’ll fucking kill you” from John B later, you all were settling down again, back to things pogues did when it was just them and the stars above them.

JJ was a great boyfriend, something you’d never expect from a guy as impulsive as him. You mostly spent time either at the Chateau, annoying the hell out of him or at your house, your parents thankfully really accepting of this relationship. They just wanted you to be happy and you were grateful to have such great parents.

His house was out of question given his father which made you quite sad because JJ deserved better than that.

Weeks passed by and you barely thought about the tattoo thing anymore. It simply didn’t matter to you because whenever you were with JJ, he showed you how much he loved you and how much you meant to him and your feelings for him were just the same.

That was at least until one of your older friends in the early twenties actually married her soulmate, having tattooed the name once again on the place where it had first shown up, so they never forget how they got together in the first place, a love that was destined to be forever. It was a thing people died quite frequently, the tattoo artists always happy to do it, sometimes even right at the wedding.

It was a beautiful day and you were wondering if your own wedding would be just as beautiful.

“Do you think we’ll get married?”, you asked JJ who had come home with you after the wedding you two were attending. He hadn’t really been keen on doing this but he was his date and wanted to show the world you are his.

“If that’s what you want”, he answered and kissed the top of your head while you snuggled closer to him.

“No, seriously. Normally people only marry their soulmates because if they don’t, they’ll get a divorce if they find theirs later on”, you said and looked up at him, noticing how he frowned.

“I get your point but I’m very convinced you’re mine. I’ve never felt like this before”, he said and turned you around in his lap, so that you were facing him, cupping your face in his hands and placing a soft kiss of your lips.

Then a sparkle appeared in his eyes and he pulled away to get up from the bed. He seemed to look around on your desk until he took something and came back to you, sitting down at the edge of the bed.

“Give me your hand”, he demanded and you held your hand out. He took it in his and pulled it a little closer, turning it a little so your palm and wrist were facing upwards.

It was only then that you noticed he was holding a sharpie in the other hand, taking the cap off with his mouth and writing his name on your wrist. Well, it was just JJ and not his full name but it didn’t matter. The sentiment made you smile from ear to ear and he grinned at you, proud of himself.

“You’re the best”, you said and kissed him, throwing him down onto your bed in the same progress. It might not have been a real tattoo but it was something to hold onto. You didn’t need a real one to know that you loved this man under you. His eyes and his smile were enough to make you fall in love with him over and over again.

“So, another party tonight?”, he asked and you nodded.

“Hell yeah!”

The boneyard was full again and everyone had a great time. The last party here had been a while so you enjoyed being back here. You all had a few drinks in, John B had sneaked off to spend time with Sarah out of the sight of Rafe and his friends who were also somewhere in the crowd.

You and JJ had also taken off a little, sitting further down the beach at the water where you could still hear the music but also talk. It might have been an outdoor party but two many people on one spot always changed the air.

“I’ll get us a new drink, okay?”, he asked and you nodded, handing him your empty bottle. After placing a kiss to the top of your head he walked over into the crowd.

You pulled your legs up to your chest and placed your chin on the knees, just watching the waves as you waited for your boyfriend to return. It didn’t take long to hear steps in the sand approaching you and you looked up smiling.

That smile fell when you saw who it was.

“Hey there, Pogue”, Rafe said and you winced in disgust. He was the last person you wanted to see.

“What do you want?”, you hissed at him, jumping up to at least be almost the same height as he was.

“Heard it was your birthday a while ago. Who’s your soulmate?” He asked, taking a drink from his red cup.

You raised an eyebrow at him and crossed the arms over your chest. “Like that’s any of your business.”

“It is”, he hissed and pulled down his shirt a little, revealing your name on his collarbone. Oh shit.

“You know, that could be any other person with that name?” He was drunk, probably high as usual and apparently determined you were his soulmate. You saw it in his eyes and body language, he was not fucking around.

“We could find out”, he slurred and came dangerously close to you only to be pulled away by the shoulders a second later, hitting the ground.

“Leave her alone, you fucking Kook”, JJ spat at him and Rafe got up faster than expected in his state.

“Shut up”, he simply said and started to push JJ which caused him to throw the first punch. You took a step back and watched the situation in terror for a moment, not sure what to do.

They were already rolling in the sand and hitting each other when you started to scream for Pope, Kiara, John B, anyone really. It was no surprise that they weren’t the only ones to hear your screams, Topper and Kelce also running over to what was going on. They probably knew that Rafe was here.

When Rafe was ahead once more and just kept punching JJ’s face you tried to pull him off him, getting thrown off in the process too.

“Don’t”, JJ just breathed between punches, more worried about you than himself.

Finally John B came and pulled Rafe off JJ, Pope reaching for his shoulders and pulling him away.

“We’re done here, come on”, Topper said to Rafe who was about to throw a punch at JB. It wasn’t often that Topper would say something like this but Sarah was close, therefore he was trying to show his best side.

“Hey, you okay?”, you asked JJ as you hurried over to him, his face and handy bloody.

“100% fine”, he coughed briefly and tried to smile at you. “He looks worse.”

You laughed and slapped his chest carefully.

“Let’s get him back to the Chateau, party’s over anyway”, John B huffed and helped JJ up.

All five of you walked back to the van and drove to the Chateau where they helped JJ inside. He seemed in a lot of pain even though he was trying not to show it.

They brought him to the bathroom where he was sitting down on the toilet.

“Take your shirt off”, you said and he snorted.

“You’re in such a hurry suddenly”, he joked but you only gave him a stern look. He was probably bruised in other places than his face and you wanted to see how bad it was. “Alright alright. As my lady demands.”

He took off his dirty shirt and you looked over his body, it didn’t seem too bad for now but you were sure some more bruises would come in during the night.

“You’ve got this?”, Kie asked from the doorframe and you nodded before she walked back to the living room where the others were. You could hear the voice of an angry JB and Pope trying to calm him down.

To muffle the sounds some more, you closed the door. “Now hold still”, you told him and reached into the cabinet above the sink, pulling out antiseptic and some clean cloth. The guys got into a bunch of fights with the other Kooks, you had the necessary stuff stored in here in case something like this happened.

You put the antiseptic on the cloth and tried to clean JJ’s wounds. He bit his bottom lip when he felt the sting but didn’t say anything. He was used to it by now even though it was worse this time.

This could take a while, he had a bunch of small cuts over his face. Luckily the bleeding wasn’t all too bad. You turned towards the sink and cleaned the cloth before applying some more antiseptic.

You did this a few more times before you were all done, ruffling his hair. “All done, big boy”, you said and kissed his forehead.

“Thanks, love”, he said and was about to get up when you saw the frown on your face. “Hm? What’s wrong?”

“Ah it’s nothing. It’s just weird, even though I’ve been washing the cloth a lot and got water all over my hands, the sharpie tattoo didn’t smudge”, you said and looked at your wrist.

“Guess you have really good sharpies at home”, he laughed and pulled you into a hug but you couldn’t stop looking at it. Something felt...different. You wriggled yourself out of the embrace only to let more water run over your wrist.

“I’m sure it’s nothing. It’s probably waterproofed”, he said and walked to stand behind you, massaging your shoulders while looking at the mirror to see his bruised face.

“No, JJ. Look. It’s not smudging!”, you said louder than intended, causing him to look down at your wrist and how you were rubbing your thumb over it so much that your skin had already turned red.

Now he started to wonder too and reached over to where you had placed the cloth and the antiseptic.

“That should normally erase it, right?”, he asked and applied some antiseptic on the cloth, taking your wrist in his hand and applying it carefully. His movements were slow to avoid irritating your skin even more.

After what felt like ages he was removing the cloth from your skin again it was clear as day that there was no smudging involved at all. It just read JJ, even in his handwriting, as if the sharpie had somehow burned into your skin.

“Do you think…?” You didn’t dare to finish that sentence and just turned around to JJ, looking into his eyes.

“I don’t know, I never heard of something like this.”

A knocking at the door got the two of you to look over there. “Are you making out in there or what’s going on? Can’t take that long to clear some bruises!”

You walked over and opened the door, looking in John B’s face who was probably worried about you doing the dirty in here.

When he saw your face he frowned, knowing that something wasn’t right. “What’s wrong?”, he asked and you grabbed JJ’s as well as JB’s hand and pulled them both to the living room where Kie and Pope were chatting.

“I think I’ve got a tattoo.”

The three of them were looking at you and said “What?!” in canon while JJ just stood behind you, not really sure what to make of the whole situation.

“Look”, you said and held your wrist out, showing them the tattoo. “JJ drew his name with sharpie on there earlier because I was so sad about not having one but now it won’t even smudge. It should smudge! We rubbed it with water and antiseptic and nothing!”

All the eyes were on you in wonder until Kie jumped up and hugged you tight. “I’m not sure how that’s even possible but if it’s real, you found your soulmate even without the hint from destiny”, she told you, grinning from ear to ear after taking a step back.

“So, you’re like that one dog in 102 dalmatians whose spots came in later?”, Pope asked and caused everything to laugh.

“I guess I am”, you said between laughs and sniffled a little.

For the next three days you kept trying to clean the sharpie tattoo with everything you could find that should erase it but nothing. It seemed to be real but you had no idea how that was possible. You didn’t tell anyone besides your friends, didn’t want to weird anyone out with the fact that this was possible

In the online community you couldn’t find a single entry about that topic and were about to open one late at night when you heard a knock on your window.

You turned around to see JJ sitting there and you moved to open it.

“We have a front door, you know”, you said laughing and helped him inside.

“It’s way more romantic this way.” He shrugged and pressed a kiss on your lips.

“Until you get hurt”, you mumbled against his lips which made him smile against yours.

“Not gonna happen.” JJ walked over to your bed and lay down, taking a deep breath. You just watched him for a moment, smiling to yourself. He made you so happy and if the tattoo was real…

“Sleep with me”, you suddenly blurted out and he just looked over you with a raised eyebrow.

“Again? I’ve already spent last night here. You’re quite greedy”, he said and chuckled but you shook your head.

“No, I mean, have sex with me.” Those words made him shoot up and sit straight in your bed, a faint blush on his cheeks.

“Excuse me?” He gave you a dumbfounded look that made you laugh, so you moved over to him to straddle his lap.

“I want to find out if it’s real”, you whispered, your face turning redder the more you thought about it. You hadn’t done the deed before as JJ was too afraid to find out if you were really, truly his soulmate and you were still a virgin anyway.

“Are you sure?”, he breathed and you nodded, swallowing hard.

You moved your hand to the hem of his shirt and started fumbling with it before pulling it off.

Not knowing if it was real or not was driving you insane. Anyone who didn’t know about the sharpie thing would say it’s real, but you knew it couldn’t. You didn’t have one before, you made one yourself with a sharpie, it was even still JJ’s handwriting, it didn’t change the location. Nothing made sense.

Your thoughts were soon removed by lust and love when JJ took your virginity in the most gentle way that was possible. He was careful and loving like you’re a delicate thing that could break under the force of his body.

The next morning you woke up in his arms, still as naked as you were born. It took a moment to remember what had happened the night before and your face turned red when you remembered.

JJ lay next to you, snoring slightly and you smiled at him as you watched for a moment. Wait, the tattoo!

You threw your blankets away causing him to stir with a groan.

It wasn’t there anymore. You looked at your wrist, then the other one, just in case, then back again. Nothing. No sharpie, no tattoo.

“It’s gone! JJ, it’s gone!” you said and he rubbed his tired eyes, bed hair and all.

“What is gone?”, he asked with a yawn and you held him your wrist right under his nose. “The tattoo!”

That word made him sit up and he looked at you, then moved the bracelets and ribbons from his wrist. “Mine’s gone too.”

“You’re my soulmate!”, you exclaimed and threw yourself around his neck. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a tight hug.

“I knew it”, he said with a bright smile and his eyes were filled with happiness. You couldn’t believe it. You also had no explanation, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered that the boy in front of you was your true love, the one you were destined to be with.

“You, (y/n) (y/l/n), are a really special girl.”

#jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank #jj imagine #obx imagine #john b x sarah #kiara x pope #kiara carrera #pope heyward #outer banks #obx netflix #john b routledge

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angelic-holland · 4 years

Text

All Too Well // prologue

Spilled Ink & Blueberry Wine

pairing: Harrison Osterfield x fem!reader

warnings: angst

word count: 1.6k

Y/N accepted a job on the props team for a small rom-com never expecting her life to change completely because of a boy with blue eyes and a bright smile. But as autumn turned to winter, she found herself embracing her vulnerabilities and hoping her love didn’t end when the movie wrapped.

masterlist ☼ taglist

A/N: i would love to hear what everyone thinks of this series! i’m very excited to write this for you all! italics indicate flashbacks!

Moving to your new apartment was supposed to be the opportunity of a lifetime. The ability to be a part of a major Hollywood movie was beyond your wildest dreams. But it was coming true all over again.

A chance to forget about the East Coast and all of the painful memories along with it.

Instead, you were sitting on the cold hardwood floor of your empty studio. Saying you were shocked was putting it lightly.

A box that shipped from your sister’s address sat in front of you. However, it wasn’t from your sister. It was from Harrison. You recognized his handwriting immediately after tearing away the tape and opening the box.

The letter, your name scrawled across the envelope, was at the very top. You ignored the rest, keepsakes of your time spent with Harrison, and tore the envelope open.

Dear Y/N,

I wasn’t sure of your new address, so I sent your things back to your sister’s address. If you’re reading this I guess it means you got them back.

I almost packed up that bottle of blueberry wine you gave me with everything but I realized if I was shipping this in the mail I wouldn’t want it to break. And it’s damn good wine. I hope you understand.

I swear I’ve written this letter about a hundred times. I could never find the right words to say, what you wanted to hear. Until I realized that I was going about this letter all wrong. I shouldn’t be worried about your opinion of me or what you'll think of me when you’ve finished this letter. I just need to be completely honest with you. That was always the biggest problem between the two of us.

I was scared if I was honest with you, you’d run away. I guess neither of us realized it would be me who’d do the running.

I think I was afraid. I was afraid of commitment and I was afraid of how quickly and easily you were able to make me feel everything. Does that make sense?

I realize now, that’s love. That feeling of sheer hopelessness when your time with someone is running out. When the clock is ticking and your feelings have a deadline. When you want to smash that clock against the wall to shut it up because our time wasn’t enough. And you didn’t need another shitty reminder of that.

I guess I’m trying to say that our time doesn’t have to be over if you don’t want it to be. We didn’t have to have an expiration date.

I love you. And I’d understand if you couldn’t forgive me. I’d understand if this letter ends up in your fireplace or the bin.

But I hope you’ll hold onto it. Even if it’s just a reminder of the time we had.

Love,

You couldn’t contain the angry sobs that wracked your body, tiring you as the sun rose in the early hours of the day. You cried even harder when you realized you didn’t even have curtains to hang up.

You came to Los Angeles with whatever could fit in your beaten up, old blue Subaru. Curtains not included.

You lugged in a single box from your car thus far, food and of course, another bottle of your favorite alcohol.

And so you got drunk, off of lukewarm blueberry wine at 9am.

Just the taste reminded you of him. So you managed to curl up on the softest part of your apartment, the small rug in front of the shower that the last tenant left and you cried.

The memory of his blue stained lips, soft and gentle against yours, exploring, yearning, invaded your mind, invaded your heart.

You glanced at your phone, half expecting a missed call or a text message from Harrison. Your lockscreen was empty.

So you did the only thing you knew how to do when it came to Harrison. You poured your heart out into a letter back to him.

Granted, it was written on the notes app on your phone because there was little chance you had a pen or paper in your car or you’d be able to get yourself up from this spot without taking a tumble.

Dear H,

I hate you. Who am I kidding? I couldn’t hate you. I can’t even say I hated the way you made me feel. Like I was a baby bird getting thrown out of the nest for the first time. Hey, you have your metaphors, I have mine. You’re just better at words than I am. But for the longest time when we were together, I thought I was flying. That’s the best feeling I can use to describe the euphoria of what first love feels like. It wasn’t until all was said and done, and I hit the ground while you just watched, that I realized I wasn’t flying. I was falling.

But none of that matters now. Because I’m in LA and you’re in London and neither of us are willing to sacrifice our careers for one another. We shouldn’t have to, and that shouldn’t have been a fight. But it was.

Your mom called me by the way, on my drive to LA. She told me you still loved me, said you came home with that red scarf of mine. For days you contemplated sending it back to me, but she said she found you sleeping with it next to you.

You can keep it.

- I’ll see you on the red carpet,

Y/N

Still no messages from Harrison.

Sending a quick text to your sister, you let her know you made it to your place and you were safe.

Then you threw your phone across the bathroom, not even flinching when it thudded against the wall and fell to the ground.

With your one way you could reach out to Harrison and amend things now inaccessible, you leaned back against the bathtub, lips stained blue, and delved into the box of memories.

Blue mittens, ones you taught him how to knit, sat on top. It was humid, even in January, you were sweating. But you held the fabric to your chest as you remembered the playful banter between you that night.

“Why’re you teaching me this?” He asked, setting the knitting needles down with a frustrated sigh.

“Because! Knitting is an amazing skill to have. When you’re bored, knit. When you want to keep your hands busy, knit. Want a cheap Christmas gift? Knit!”

Harrison chuckled, tossing the ball of yarn and needles to the side.

“I can think of a much better way to keep my hands busy.”

“Haz!”

You set the mittens aside, picking up his yellow and brown flannel next.

“Here, take my shirt,” Harrison said, sliding his arms out of the flannel. You glanced up at the red light anxiously.

“No way! It’s freezing. You’ve only got a t-shirt under there!” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, glancing over at Harrison’s bare arms, goosebumps prickling under his skin.

“Yeah, it’s your shit car with no heat. But I don’t want my girl to be cold. Here.”

He insisted, draping the flannel over your shoulders. Your cheeks warmed and it was almost enough to bring your entire body warmth, if you weren’t in the middle of Vermont winter, when he called you his girl for the first time.

“Fine, bossy,” you teased, poking your tongue out at him.

“As if you don’t like that.”

You were pleasantly surprised he gave you the flannel, especially since it was his favorite. But he knew it was your favorite too.

Next was your photo album; you kept polaroids of your antics on set and the cast.

You gave it to Harrison as a keepsake, to commemorate his first big film and your time together.

You told yourself you weren’t sentimental, but when you opened to the first page, you nearly cried.

“Why’re you signing it? It’s not a yearbook,” he teased, watching you scribble your signature and a small heart on the bottom of the first page.

“Because, one day my signature will be worth something. Don’t forget to cash this in.” You shoved the book across the bed toward him, the first picture was one of him snoozing on a chair while waiting for an early morning shoot.

He shook his head, eyes crinkling as he laughed. “This is priceless.”

You flipped to the back page, where the entire cast and crew signed their names for the keepsake. Your thumb ran over the ink of his signature, the biggest one on the page, written in purple ink, a pen he definitely stole from your room.

“I love you,” he said as you woke up.

“I love you too.” You smiled, the usual sleepiness in your voice gone.

“I’ll see you at the party tonight?” His thumb gently stroked your cheek, your eyelids heavy.

“Yeah, you better kiss me when the New Year chimes in.”

“Couldn’t imagine doing anything else.” His lips pressed against yours before he kicked the covers back.

“Go get ready for your magazine shoot, movie star. I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Bye, love.”

As you laid down with his flannel underneath your head, you knew that your goodbye to Harrison two weeks ago was never really a goodbye. Not a permanent one, not when you still loved him and he still loved you.

You could only hope that with time, the pain of what happened would disappear, and you and Harrison could look back on this winter with warm hearts.

***

taglist: @ifilosemyselfagain @youremusicinme @tombob2005 @hazmyheart @softholand @serendipitous-amor

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield series #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield angst

72 notes · View notes

shutupposhos · 3 years

Note

3, 14, 18, 29? From soft asks ✌️

3 - fave candle scent?

I'd say lavender or rose if they are more on the fresh, light side of floral.

I loooove smelling in shops those scents like "fresh cookies" or "cinnamon buns" or whatever but when I actually burn them, they're too heavy and make me feel sick

14 - fave feel-good show?

hard to say as I'm not watching anything at all these days and I don't really re-watch things. altho I'd say Arrested Development has fun memories for me as I've watched it 3 different times with 3 different loved ones.

and I've just thought of Ghosts on bbc, definitely feel good, I've actually laughed out loud at it.

18 - do you still love stuffed animals?

not really. I have one or two sentimental ones here with me, they're more for memories and decoration then cuddles.

29 - morning, afternoon, or night?

afternoon. altho there was a time my working hours were weird (6am-9am, then same day 4pm-9pm) which meant I came to enjoy mornings a lot more - otherwise they're just painful to get through lol

thanks for qu.s, that was fun!

#ask #hardtobeoriginal

1 note · View note

drabblemeister · 5 years

Text

Wine & Writes: Coffee Prompt

Author: Ladelle | Drabblemeister Prompt: Behind every successful person is a substantial amount of coffee. Comments: Finally posting something, would you believe it Summary: Wherein Tim is a walking tragedy who has an embarrassing crush on a certain barista. There was something to be said for the amount of busy Tim was, though anyone wandering the floor of Wayne Tech with two brain cells to spare dutifully kept their thoughts to themselves. After all, laying insult to what was very obviously a genius was an undertaking for persons with a much higher pay grade - and since Bruce Wayne seemed to turn a blind eye to the amount of Starbucks cups that, at this point, looked like planned decor within Tim's office - it was fair to deduce that there may not actually be a problem.

Tim, begrudgingly, knew he had a problem. Though, contrary to popular belief, it wasn't caffeine. It wasn't coffee, either, though he was definitely okay with the convenience of that particular assumption as it was a red herring he was prone to fall back on. After all, it was a lot easier for people to believe he fantasized about midday Americanos and not Jason T., the barista, who served them.

"Ugh," Tim said, spinning in his desk chair. He'd slept in too late and nearly been tardy for a meeting, and so he hadn't stopped by the coffee shop at his usual time. It was enough to drive him insane. "What am I? Seventeen?"

He was not seventeen, but the amount of time he spent thinking about Jason's fingers fitting cardboard protectors onto steaming cups of coffee was enough to make him second guess what maturity bracket he was sure he'd climbed to post-college.

"Hey, how'd the meeting go?" a voice startled him, and Tim was quick to sit upright in his seat, as if he'd been caught at something incriminating.

"What meeting?" he questioned. The words practically fell onto the table, where he idly glanced downward, catching his reflection in the glass.

Desperation stared back.

"Uh," Tam blinked. She tucked a short, layered curl behind her ear. "Your 9am?"

Tim looked up just in time to see her eyes lift to meet his, as if she'd been scanning the tabletop, attempting to pick out just what he'd been staring at.

Tim sighed. Slouching into his chair, he ignored they way the joints squeaked under his weight; he twirled a stylus between his fingers and shrugged. "Oh, that meeting. It was fine."

Fine wasn't how anyone came away describing acquisition calls, but there weren't any words that could accurately convey the torture of listening to attorneys yell out IRS jargon for the better part of an hour. If Tim had to guess, it was definitely one of Dante's seven layers.

"Hmm," Tam hummed, and it was a very particular hum, a sound she always made when she was two steps ahead of him. For a moment, he was worried she was going to tell him that one of the attorneys had phoned in for him. Instead, she leaned against the doorframe and said, "I've come to learn something."

Tim hoped it wasn't the fact he'd stolen another one of her sticky pads.

"Behind every successful person," Tam continued, looking quite philosophical as she leveled her big brown doe-eyes at him, "is a substantial amount of coffee."

This time, it was Tim who blinked.

"Of which you've had none today," Tam clarified. "So I ordered you some. It should arrive any minute and all I ask if that you go downstairs to get it."

Tam, above all things, was a godsend. Blessed with the ability to make scarily accurate assumptions, she'd clearly missed a psychic calling and, since such a raw, interminable force of power had been unfairly relegated to transcribing Tim's barely legible meeting notes for the better part of a forty hour work week, Tim showed his respect by simply obeying her demands.

"Okay," he said.

In return, she offered a satisfied nod.

Tim added, "...and thank you."

And then, like all higher powers, she was gone.

This left Tim with the arduous task of standing, to which his entire body protested. He'd barely slept the night before (up late rebuilding a desktop) and listening to the lawyers go at it had effectively locked up his joints. Probably a survival instinct; you know - if you stay incredibly still, there's a chance they won't see you. Still, he found the willpower to move.

The 10th floor was quiet, spare the distant squeal of a Xerox and the distinct sound of a disgruntled administrative assistant lending a multitude of kicks. In nearly every corner, a muted television aired current market speculation and Tim wasn't surprised to see that the acquisition was already being reported on. Making his way to the elevators, he dragged a hand through his hair, disturbing the gel he'd forgotten he'd slicked through it.

A few bangs fell loose and he sighed, reaching up to loosen the neck of his tie since he was through with meetings for the day and wasn't expecting Bruce to drop by. For comfort, he even popped the top button, enjoying, momentarily, the ability to breathe. That was, until the door pinged open and the front desk was laid bare, a certain Jason T. stretched idly over the rise of it, a steaming cup of coffee seated next to his bicep.

In that very moment, the receptionist happened to turn, her attention torn from Jason T. and to the ever-so-slight movement of the executive elevator. Practically glowing, she called, "Mr Dr-"

It was too late.

In an unconscious moment of self-preservation, Tim jabbed the close-door button. Jason T.'s eyes lifted to meet his - just as the elevator whooshed shut.

Tim blinked.

His heart pounded.

Once again, his joints locked - same survival instinct. Just as useless.

Oh my god, he thought. Did I just-

Just, he had.

Eyes wide, he stared at his white-knuckled finger, still glued to the panel. He thought about going back upstairs. It wasn't like he needed the coffee. Besides, he'd just messed up his hair. And his tie wasn't right.

Natural Selection was a voice in the back of his head telling him that those green eyes were a danger to his very existence.

Without realizing it, his finger loosened on button, and with another ping, the doors once again slipped open. Only this time, right beyond them was a too-tight black shirt, biceps for days, green eyes that had the highway of Tim's circulatory system immediately rerouting southbound routes, and a lower lip pinched between teeth that made Tim swallow so dryly that he thought he might embarrass himself further by stumbling into a coughing fit.

"It's probably the sensor," Jason T. said, and he was leaning forward, nearly in Tim's space as he analyzed the doors. Since Tim was never going to admit he'd subconsciously tried to cut and run, he simply cleared his throat and took a step back, trying to get some air between them.

"Yes, well," Tim said, clearing his throat again. "Technology."

At that, Jason T. glanced down, an unfiltered grin garnering dimples. The spirit of Charles Darwin yelled, "Run!" from somewhere beyond the mortal plane.

Tim said, "You brought coffee?" and immediately ducked and weaved, trying to get to said drink, which he saw was still on the desk’s top. Their receptionist was in the process of hanging up a call, to which she sighed gratefully.

"I was calling the repairman," she said.

Tim fought a winning battle against the heat of his cheeks. "Yes, well, we should definitely have someone take a look."

"I didn't see you this morning," cut in Jason T., which was an interesting comment, because Tim wasn't aware the barista knew he existed. Which, in truth, was a bit ironic; some days, Tim thought everyone knew who he was - and his favorite color, album, magazine, hobbies, etc. He had a wikipedia page, after all. Also a twitter.

Something about the earnestness in Jason's eyes said he definitely did not have a Twitter.

Why was that so goddamn attractive?

"I didn't know you were keeping tabs," Tim replied, snaking the coffee into his grasp and taking a sip, giving his lips something other to do than further make a fool of himself.

Jason T., in all his disheveled and fitness-kissed glory, cocked his head sideways. "Would you rather I not?"

Tim, mid-swallow, lifted his gaze. Was this....flirting?

There was a beep, and Jason T. pulled up his watch. He sighed, though there was nothing about the sound that lended to defeat. "Well, I've got to run," he said, leaving Tim in a haze of bewilderment. "Still on the clock, you know."

Tim had not known.

He was still stuck on Jason's keeping tabs, a whole calculatory meme dancing behind him. He must have looked the part, because Jason laughed as he made his way towards the door and tossed Tim a salute.

"See you tomorrow!"

The sentiment echoed.

Tim stood for a moment longer, eyebrows drawn inward, trying to decide is he was either hopeful, and idiot, or perhaps both.

"Mr. Drake?" the receptionist said, and Tim nearly jumped out of his skin, having forgotten she was there.

"Sorry, it's just - he wrote something on the cup--" she said, looking incredibly pleasant about the whole ordeal.

"Oh," Tim replied, examining his white button-up to ensure he hadn't spilled just before finally taking a look at the cup. He stumbled over a laugh.

In fine-point cursive, there was a phone number. And then: next time, don't leave asking me out to your assistant~

#jaytim #wine and writes #prompts #ladelle writes #these losers #i love them

184 notes · View notes

camillemontespan · 5 years

Text

a week at aunt olivia and uncle leo’s [part one]

So, @sirbeepsalot messaged me saying she would like to see a fic where Leo and Olivia have to look after Lily for a week, since they’re not exactly the most.. kid friendly of couples. So I wrote it.

This is a one shot that will be split into two parts! So a two shot? All the fluff!

@jovialyouthmusic @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @pug-bitch @sirbeepsalot @moonlightgem7 @emceesynonymroll @burnsoslow @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @katedrakeohd @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @emichelle @notoriouscs @be-still-my-aching-heart @carabeth @drakesensworld

**************************************************************************

Day 1

'Okay, so here's her books and her teddy bear,' Camille said, handing items over. 'Make sure she eats her vegetables, she'll lie and say she has but don't believe her, bath time is at 6.30, her hair gets tangled easily so here's the shampoo we use to help with knots and breakfast is her favourite Unicorn Wish cereal. She has playgroup tomorrow morning at 9am, it finishes at 12. Got it?'

Olivia was leaning against the kitchen counter biting her fingernails while Leo opened a beer.

'Camille, relax,' Olivia sighed. 'Lily will be fine with us.'

Camille winced. 'It's just you've never looked after her for longer than an afternoon..'

Leo chuckled. 'Don't worry yourself, hun. How hard can it be?'

'Ha!' Drake scoffed. He was helping Lily take off her coat. 'Spoken like someone who's never had a kid. Oh Leo, good luck, man.'

Leo gave him a happy shrug. Camille sighed. 'Any issues, call us.'

'Babe, you're going on holiday!' Olivia scolded. 'Relax! Just be Drake and Camille pre-babies. Get your groove back. Have you packed the vaseline I lent you?'

Camille blushed. 'And the clingfilm..'

Leo clapped Drake on the back. 'Go get her, buddy.'

Drake and Camille crouched down to say goodbye to their four year old daughter. They were going away to the south coast for a week to soak up sunshine, swim, hike and have lots of sex. Lots and lots of sex. It was their anniversary holiday after all.

'Okay so we'll see you at the end of the week, baby! I'll miss you!' Camille cooed, bringing Lily in for a cuddle. Drake then reached out and pressed a kiss on her head.

Lily was bouncing up and down with excitement. She was so ready to spend seven days with her Aunt Olivia and Uncle Leo.

'Thank you so much for doing this,' Camille said, giving Olivia a hug next. 'You're the best.'

Olivia and Leo waved them off before coming back into the kitchen where Lily was unpacking her books. 'So, let's show you your room!' Leo said cheerily.

He took her upstairs. Their house was very modern and minimal, white walls with floor to ceiling windows, a glass staircase and expensive artwork decorating the walls. It was, to put it bluntly, not a child friendly home. The sharp edges and glass was enough to give Camille a panic attack but she trusted her friends to look after her daughter.

The guest bedroom was white and minimal but with flashes of red. Red cushions, a red rug and red silk curtains. Lily jumped onto the bed and lay like a starfish. 'Comfy,' she said. It had her seal of approval.

Leo put Lily's rucksack on the chair. 'Okay, so it's nearly dinner time, I was thinking spaghetti with ALL OF THE MEATBALLS?!'

Lily squealed. 'And cheese!'

'A dinner for champions!' Leo hollered. He took Lily downstairs to start getting dinner ready. Drake had told him that she loved helping with mealtimes, though she couldn't do much, she still felt felt pleased when she was allowed to stir the bowl or taste test.

Olivia was helping herself to a glass of wine and jumped when Lily bounded in. She wasn't used to kids in her own space. It felt weird.

'We're having spaghetti and meatballs,' Leo told her. Olivia wrinkled her nose. 'Ugh, carbs.'

'Have spaghetti with us!' Lily cried. 'Pleaaaaase!'

Leo gave Olivia an amused look. Olivia sighed. 'Fine. But only a small portion for me.'

She sat down at the kitchen island with her wine and magazine, occasionally looking up to watch her boyfriend make meatballs with her god daughter. She felt a twinge in her heart. Oh god, sentiment.

'Now we're gonna sprinkle some oregano on the meatballs to give them a good flavour,' Leo instructed. Lily watched him carefully and copied him. She was sitting on the tall chair of the kitchen island with an apron over her body to protect her wooly white jumper and her blue leggings with silver embroidered stars. On her feet, she was wearing furry UGG boots. Olivia had to admit that Lily looked adorable.

‘Hey, let’s play some music while we cook,’ Leo suggested. He turned to the Alexa pod. ‘Alexa! Play.. Wake Me Up Before You Go Go!’

‘Playing Wake Me Up Before You Go Go by Wham,’ Alexa said in her monotone voice. The song began to fill the room.

‘Jitterbug!’ Leo sang, twirling around. Lily clapped her hands and giggled as she watched him. It was like Leo had turned into her Uncle Maxwell, who was the best dancer she knew.

Olivia stared at Leo with a look of bewilderment on her face. Who was this guy? What had he done with her usually cool and sexy boyfriend? Since when did he like Wham?

She asked him that very question. Leo shot her a lazy smile and gestured to Lily. ‘Look at her.’

Olivia looked at Lily and saw that she was swinging her feet along to the music while sprinkling oregano on the meatballs. She was in her element.

*************************************************************

After dinner, Olivia took Lily upstairs for her bath. She studied the shampoo that Camille had given her for Lily’s hair. It smelled like lavender.

‘Right, arms up,’ Olivia instructed. Lily raised her arms and Olivia gently pulled Lily’s jumper off. Soon, the little girl was in the bath, sloshing around in the water.

Olivia poured some shampoo into the palm of her hand and proceeded to rub it into Lily’s hair.

‘Aunt Olivia...’ Lily said, her voice questioning.

‘Yeah babe?’

Lily looked at her shyly. ‘Will you take me to playgroup tomorrow? I want everyone to see you.’

Olivia smirked. ‘Of course I will. What are the kids at playgroup like?’

‘Nice,’ Lily said. ‘Milo's my favourite.'

'Who's Milo?'

Lily blushed. 'A boy.'

Olivia stopped washing her hair and fixed her with a steady stare. 'Lily.. Do you have a boyfriend?'

Lily burst out laughing and ducked her head under the water. When she emerged, she wrinkled her nose. 'Ewww.'

'Lily?' Olivia's voice was lilting. 'Are you k-i-s-s-i-n-g?'

'Nooooooooo!' Lily shrieked. Olivia laughed and began to comb conditioner through Lily's hair. She wondered in amusement what Drake would say if he knew. She had a feeling that Drake would be the stereotypical overprotective father who vetted boyfriends or girlfriends with a shotgun in his lap.

'Babe, it's okay to like boys.'

Lily turned red. 'He's nice. My friend Violet likes Harry but he pushes her over which makes her cry. Katie says it's because Harry likes Violet.'

Olivia rolled her eyes. 'Ugh, boys. By the way, if Milo starts pushing you in the playground or tugging your hair, that's not because he likes you, it's because he's a d bag.'

'D bag?'

Olivia smiled conspiratorially. 'You'll understand when you're older.'

*************************************************

Day 2

Olivia got out the car and took Lily's hand to cross the road. Lily was fizzing with excitement - aunt Olivia was taking her to playgroup! Her friends would see her! She could show Olivia her classroom!

Olivia studied the playgroup mothers who were kissing and hugging their four year olds goodbye.

Ugh, if I ever wear pyjamas to a school run or whatever, kill me.

Olivia was not dressed in pyjamas. She was wearing black leather trousers, ankle boots with a spindly heel, red sweater and black leather jacket. She looked, if she said so herself, hot.

They reached the school gates. The mothers turned to gawp at Olivia - for one thing, she was the Duchess of Lythikos, she was famous. They had met Camille and Drake many times but they always exuded an air of normality.. Olivia didn’t. Olivia looked intimidating, she looked regal, she looked powerful.

One mother cleared her throat and went over to say hello. ‘Hi there. I’m Stacey, Milo’s mom.’

Olivia gave her a smirk. ‘Milo, huh?’

Stacey blinked. ‘Yes, my son, that’s him over there.’ She pointed to a small boy with dark hair down to his shoulders. Olivia felt he would become a surfer boy type when he grew up; not a Duke, no, but still good for Lily.

Lily jumped up and down. ‘This is my aunt Olivia!’

Olivia extended a hand and shook Stacey’s. Stacey grinned. ‘Olivia, the Duchess of Lythikos! So nice to meet you at last.’

‘Charmed,’ Olivia said shortly.

‘So where is Camille?’ Stacey asked.

‘She and Drake are having a sexcation,’ Olivia replied. ‘They need it.’

Stacey blinked. ‘Oh, okay. Good for them, huh?!’

Lily had left the women to drag over Milo and another little girl with glasses and plaits. ‘Aunt Olivia, this is Milo and this is Violet!’

Olivia looked down at the children; they stared up at her in terror. ‘She’s my favourite!’ Lily whispered.

Olivia smiled. ‘Okay, babe, let’s get you into class.’

She took Lily’s hand but was stopped by Stacey. ‘Oh, sorry, just a moment.’ Stacey said. ‘I was wondering if you wanted to join our book club?’

Olivia stared at her. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Well, we keep asking Camille to join but she’s so busy that she always says she can’t. We meet up every Wednesday night at mine for a cup of tea and to discuss our Book of the Month, it’s just nice to get together without the kids, you know?’

‘But I’m not a parent..’

‘No, but you are now at our gates!’ Stacey said excitedly. ‘You can be an honourary member. Plus, it would really boost our membership if we had a Duchess join.’

‘Has it occurred to you that maybe I’m too busy to talk about books?’ Olivia asked bluntly. Stacey went pink. ‘Oh. I didn’t mean to cause offence..’

Olivia smirked. ‘You didn’t, I don’t get offended easily. Tell you what; if the tea is replaced with wine, then I’ll consider it.’

Stacey clapped her hands in delight. ‘Perfect! I’ll suggest that to Jennifer!’

Olivia took Lily and guided her into the building, keen to get away. Why had she said that? She hated all that kind of crap. Well done, Nevrakis. You’re now part of the mommy set. Good effort seeing as you’re not a mom and you hate kids.

Lily looked up at Olivia as they walked to her classroom, giving her a wide beaming smile.

Okay, I like one kid.

********************************************************************************

‘Hey Liv, how’s it going with Lily?’ Camille asked down the phone.

Olivia was reclining on the chaise lounge with her feet up on the table, drying her toenails that were now painted red. A glass of red wine sat on the table beside her, despite the fact it was 11am.

Well, it was five o’clock somewhere, right?

‘Great,’ Olivia said. ‘Dropped her at playgroup earlier. I’m now part of their book club, kill me now.’

‘How the hell did they get you to join that?’

‘No idea. I suggested they replace the tea with wine, Stacey said she would suggest it, now I’m a member. How have you managed to avoid it?’

Camille laughed. ‘I just keep acting like I’m an important person with very important things to do. They’re lovely women, honestly, I just don’t want to join the book club.. I’d rather stay home with Drake and Lily, you know?’

‘Speaking of Drake, how’s the fucking?’ Olivia asked. ‘Vaseline and clingfilm going down a treat?’

‘It’s... interesting..’ Camille replied.

Olivia smirked and had a sip of wine. ‘You’ll thank me at the end of the week.’

‘I gotta go, actually,’ Camille said. ‘I just wanted to check in and see that you’re surviving.’

Olivia rolled her eyes. ‘We’re fine. You got a good kid, Camille.’

The two friends hung up. Olivia stretched out and wiggled her toes which were now dry and looking beautifully red.

‘Hey, gorgeous.’

Leo came into the room fresh from his shower with his towel wrapped around his waist. ‘Ooh, nice nails,’ he commented, before leaning down to kiss her on the mouth. Olivia’s hand roamed down his chest to under the towel area, until she found what she wanted.

‘Hey, big boy.’

Leo gave her a wolfish grin and took the towel off. He was all golden; golden skin, golden hair. His abs were chiselled and his shoulders were broad. He was a golden God.

‘Come here and fuck me,’ Olivia said. Leo’s eyes darkened.

‘I was going to.’

***************************************************************************

Lily was excited to finish playgroup so she could see Olivia and Leo. They were all she had talked about all morning. Olivia picked her up, and they talked about her day in the car as Olivia drove them home. She then spent the afternoon building a fort with Leo.

That evening, Olivia got her ready for bath time before bundling her up in a wooly dressing gown. Olivia then wrapped her own silk red dressing gown around her body.

In the kitchen, Olivia poured herself a glass of wine, aware that Lily was studying her in fascination.

'What are you drinking?' she asked.

Olivia smirked. 'Grape juice.'

'Can I have some?'

Olivia laughed. This child was so funny. 'Sorry, it's adult grape juice, babe. But hey, wait a second.'

Olivia found a carton of cranberry juice and poured it into a wine glass for Lily. Lily's eyes lit up. She felt so fancy with her own wine glass. Much more fun than the plastic cups she had at home.

The two of them settled down in the living room dressed in their dressing gowns and wine glasses in hand.

'Can we watch Peppa Pig?' Lily asked. Olivia shrugged. 'Sure thing, babe. One episode then bedtime, okay?'

Lily snuggled up into Olivia and they watched Peppa Pig, cosy together. Olivia looked down at Lily who was entranced with the TV show. This wasn’t hard. Why were Drake and Camille always acting like they were exhausted? Having a kid was a walk in the park. She’d have to give them pointers.

After the episode finished, Olivia took Lily up to bed. She kissed her softly on the forehead and tucked her in, a rare display of love. When Olivia went to leave the room, Lily cried out, ‘Wait!’

Olivia turned. ‘What’s up hun?’

Lily wrung the duvet in her hands, her eyes wide. ‘Can you leave the door open?’ she asked quietly.

‘Why?’

‘I’m scared of the monsters.’

Olivia sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘Lily, there’s no such thing as monsters.’

Lily nodded quickly. ‘There is. They live under the bed.’

Olivia looked down below the bed; there were just storage boxes underneath. ‘Babe, monsters aren’t in here.’

‘Because you’re here, they hide, but when you go, they will be under the bed,’ Lily replied, her voice becoming high pitched with panic.

‘Shh babe..’ Olivia whispered. She thought to herself. Sure, she could leave the door open but Olivia had been taught from a young age that to feel fear was a silly emotion and by keeping the door open, Lily was letting that fear control her. Of course, Olivia had a shit upbringing but she could use some of the stuff she had been taught as a springboard.

‘Okay, wait a second,’ she said. She rushed out and came back in a moment later holding a teddy bear.

‘So, this is my old teddy bear,’ Olivia said. ‘His name is Ernest..’

‘Ernest..’

‘Yup. Now, Ernest protected me from monsters all the time. He taught me how to be brave. He kept me safe. Here, take him. He will keep you safe. Now, monsters don’t exist but if they ever did, Ernest will sound the alarm! He will tell me and I will come through and protect you too.’

‘You will?’

‘Yup. Ernest watches over you all night. If he sees anything, he will tell me so fast that the monsters won’t stand a chance.’

Lily smiled and hugged Ernest to her body. ‘Okay.’

‘Now, I’m going to shut the door, okay?’ Olivia said gently. ‘I promise, there’s nothing in here. But you’ve got Ernest. Ernest is a good bear.’

Lily nodded bravely and settled down under the duvet, holding Ernest close. Olivia kissed her again and left the room.

In the dark, Lily clenched hold of Ernest tightly. She then quickly moved so she was hanging over the side of the bed and she hissed, ‘If you get me, my aunt Olivia will kill you!’

She snuggled back under the duvet, feeling much better now.

**********************************************

Day 3

Olivia had her kickboxing class at 8.30am which meant Leo was in charge of taking Lily to playgroup. Lily had insisted on wearing her pink ballerina outfit and furry UGG boots and Leo wasn't going to argue with that. Each to their own.

He shrugged on his leather jacket and put on his aviator sunglasses. He carried her Tangled rucksack which was emblazoned with images of Pascal, Flynn Rider and Rapunzel as they wandered to his Cadillac, which was his second favourite thing in the world, after Olivia.

Leo blasted the radio for them and they sang along to the songs as Leo drove through Cordonia to get to playgroup.

When they arrived, Leo escorted Lily into the building where the mothers were standing outside the classroom talking. They stopped when they saw Leo.

'Oh my god, it's the Prince..' one of them breathed.

‘He looks like a model...’

‘Do we have to curtsey?’

Leo crouched down to say goodbye to Lily. 'Right kiddo, I'll pick you up at 12.'

Lily hugged him tightly.

'Make good choices!' Leo told her. 'Don't do anything I would do!'

Lily skipped into the classroom with her tutu billowing around her. Leo stood back up, watching her go, until he became aware of the five women staring at him with their mouths hanging open. He gave them his lopsided smile and raised his hand in greeting.

‘Hey there.’

He turned and walked away, shaking his head in amusement as he heard the women squeal.

Maybe he should go to playgroup more.

#trr fanfic #the royal romance #drake walker #olivia nevrakis #leo rhys #lily walker

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