#so glad this prompt fell on a thursday

[evielmostdefinitely]

pls i NEED a fic of corio and readers first time together im on my knees 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

first fall of snow |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: capitol!reader and coriolanus' first time.

contains: smut, nothing graphic bc i wanted it to be fluffy. dark-ish coriolanus. consensual. 18+.

“And as for the Academy,” You fell into step with Coriolanus, his arm out for you to politely clutch, the fallen snow crunching beneath your heels. “What do you wish to do after?” 

Coriolanus tilted his head back, brows creasing in thought. “I’d like to continue my work with Dr. Gaul.” He hummed, a firm grip on your arm that had you swooning. “Longterm, I’d like to be President.” 

“Ooh,” You grinned, eyes sparkling under the lights of the city. Coriolanus swallowed down the heat he felt rising in his throat. “President Snow, that certainly has a nice ring to it.” 

“I’m glad you think so.” Coryo smiled softly. 

“I think that’s wonderful, Coriolanus.” You matched his smile, a dreamy look in your eye that Coryo was growing very fond of each time he saw it. “Very ambitious. I like that in a man.” 

“Do you?” Coriolanus laughed, head tilting down towards you. The proper dating had gone to flirtatious banter quickly. It felt perfect, far too perfect, beyond what his own planning and careful meddling could even design. 

“I love it.” You grinned, pausing for a beat as he opened the door to your building, holding the door for you to slip in before his hand found the small of your back. It was polite, really, so innocent and respectable, the placement of his hand. Still, it made your heart flutter, burst with excitement. 

Your own finger reached for the button of the elevator, turning to meet Coriolanus’ dazzling eyes. “I love a man who knows what he wants.” 

His throat bobbed, you grinned at the flustered blush creeping out from under his collar. He was the vision of perfection, prim and proper, so put together- you wanted to ravish him. Mess that perfect hair up, tug at it and feel it between your fingers. 

The ding of your elevator trilled, pulling Coriolanus’ attention away from you. “Well, then,” Your heart skipped at his words. “I’m glad I can impress you, Miss Duke.” His hand reached for your cheek, pulling you in for a rather sloppy smooch. Still respectful, cautious of the potential onlookers. 

You were swooning when he pulled away, head spinning with excitement, his hand still pressed to your warm cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

Your heart sunk at his words, spiraling down further and further. You blinked at him, face falling. 

“Yes?” Coriolanus’ brows creased, head tilting softly to the side. “Tomorrow? Or do you have plans, darling?” 

You swallowed, shaking your head. “N-No, I will see you tomorrow.” You forced a smile, stepping towards the elevator. Of course he would act this way, it was the proper thing to do. You were a fool for thinking otherwise. 

“Coriolanus,” You called, heel stopping the elevator tracks from closing. Those icy blues met your gaze, melting you from the inside out. Your body covered in a blush, maybe from adrenaline, maybe from him. 

“Would-Would you,” You swallowed your racing heart, hands fidgeting with your small bag. “Won’t you come up.” You motioned to the elevator. “Have a cup of tea. Stay for a while.” 

Coriolanus grinned, a toothy smile that made your heart leap. “If you insist.” He muttered, stepping in behind you, his hand finding its place back on your spine when you pressed the button, trying to dull your fidgety excitement that raced through your veins. 

The penthouse was everything Coriolanus thought it would be, and more. Extravagant, efficient, top of the line in every way. So modern yet so… comforting. Something so familiar, and it smelled of you. 

The roses still in a vase from last night's date. Coriolanus always brought you a bouquet on your Thursday evening dinners, a part of him to take with you and remember him throughout the week. 

He settled into a cushioned arm chair while you fixed the tea, chatting lightly, pretending not to watch him take in your small space. “How long have you lived here?” Coriolanus asked. 

“Not long.” You shrugged, looking at him over your shoulder. “Less than a year. My father gave it to me when I started my job after the Academy, so I could have a place of my very own. Some independence.” 

“Independence.” Coriolanus nodded. “That must be nice. To have… To have this place of your own, I mean.” His fists clenched, clammy and hesitant. “I still live with my family.” 

“That must be nice.” You repeated, pulling the small tea cups out of the cupboard. “I miss my family. Miss my mother. It gets lonely up here all alone.” You turned, leaning against the counter, lashes batting towards him. 

Coriolanus was sure his heart had stopped beating, the sultry pout you gave him, like you were trying to fluster him. He wasn’t entirely convinced that you weren’t. 

“Does it?” Coriolanus swallowed around the growing lump in his throat, hands moving as nonchalantly as he could to lay them in his lap. 

You nodded, slow steps, smooth and calculated across the marble, over the fur rug. “Very lonely. Especially at night.” You sighed, lolling your head to the side. “No one here to keep me company.” 

Coriolanus tried to keep his composure, remain calm and cool, though his heart hammered in his ears with a thrill. “Well, I’m here now.” He said confidently, chin tilting to look up at you. “I’ll keep you company tonight. If you’ll have me.” 

Your lips curled, a triumphant grin spreading across your features, eyes lighting with delight. Coriolanus was relieved, he’d answered correctly. You moved towards him, his hands finding your waist easily, nearly instinctively as you sunk into his lap straddling his wide thighs. Your fingers thread through the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him into a sloppy kiss. 

Coryo’s hands found your hips, your ass, squeezing and rubbing over the flesh he’d been longing to touch for so long. Oh, how you’d tormented him. Your body consuming his thoughts at all hours of the night, his hand snaking under his pajama pants as he thought of you, fantasized about what you might look like under those pretty dresses- what you might taste like. He was about to find out. 

When you dropped to your knees, a sly smile far too salacious than he was expecting, pumping his shaft in your soft hands. Coriolanus’ head tipped back, sweat beading at his hairline when you took him in your mouth, a little unsure, gagging at the intrusion of him- he was sure he’d be succumbing to you far too easily. 

“Coriolanus, oh!” You mewled, back arching off the edge of the bed. You’d gotten your wish, hands tangled through his blonde curls, tugging them out of place and pulling him closer and closer to you. 

Coryo’s tongue lapping at your cunt, swirling over your clit. You’d tasted even better than he could have imagined. He was surprised at how easily your mind numbed when he’d lick you between your legs. How pliant and sweet, totally dependent and reliant on him, eyes rounding at him for guidance and instruction- he’d remember that for the future. 

He finally pushed into you, slowly, his hands under your knees, kissing your shin when you whined at the stretch, the pain of fitting him inside of you. He was gentle, the most gentle and delicate he’d ever be with you again. Cautious like you were a flower, one that could snap and break if he handled you the wrong way. 

Soft grunts muffled into your skin, your hands cradling him closer to you, chest to chest, nose to nose, bodies moving in stuttered rhythm together for the first time.

[tealeavesandtrash]

Wolfstar Micro Fic - @wolfstarmicrofic prompt: Dogwalker - 421 words

[unknown number] Hi. Sorry to bother you, Pete gave me your number. I’m looking for a dog walker, he said you might know someone?  Thanks, Remus

hi remus i’ll ask around, what are the dates? sirius

This Thursday? Hopefully for 2 weeks but I’m having an op so might change I know it’s short notice but everything fell through and I'm running out ideas

sorry, just talking to pete  i’ll do it

You will? 

yeah  i work round the corner, i can take him out at lunch

Thank you so much you're a lifesaver

no probs

————

Thanks for today I think Padfoot likes you

good bc I like him too also no offence, when pete said knee replacement i was expecting a grandpa

None taken  And no offence, when Pete said dog groomer, I wasn’t expecting so much leather and tattoos

no offence taken ;)

————

[attached photo] stick maybe coming home with us

————

[attached photo] You've knackered him out

————

I have phsyio this morning Key is in flowerpot if I'm not back 

no worries

————

how was it?

An hour of them teaching me how to bend my knee Like I haven’t been doing that my whole life??

well… you werent doing a great job of it if they had to replace it

Hilarious.

————

[attached photo] He’s waiting for you He knows your late

sorry padfoot :(( tell him ill be 5 mins x

————

okay so slight incident

What happened??

[attached photo] big fan of muddy puddles

Oh jesus

ill take him back to work and clean him up

You really don't have to  I can bath him

no offence ive seen you hobbling about you cant  wrangle him into a bath and kneel down to wash him 

I can handle it You’ve done enough already

its fine i had a cancellation won’t be a full pamper but youll have a squeaky clean pup back at 2

————

I dont think Padfoot's ever smelt so good

thats the blueberry pawfume 

The what

pawfume dog perfume blueberry scented

didn't know that was a thing 

next opening  i have hes getting the spa treatment

————

PT's cleared me for low-impact exercise  Aka get off my arse and start walking more

Oh congrats! I mean I’ll miss padfoot But glad ur healing good :)

Well You can still come with? Padfoot really likes you And I like talking to you

I like talking to you too

Or I coud take you out to dinner? As a thank you for everything I couldn't have coped without you

It’s a date x

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday part 2

Following this morning's Part One, here comes Part Two, featuring Jak's first conversation with Damas, followed by a timeskip to roughly two months later -- a bit after his second Arena fight in-game. (And yes, Jak took two months to put the pieces together in spite of Damas having the subtlety of a bull in a china shop. He got distracted by getting to drive a buggy for the first time) Part Three comes later today.

______>______<______>______<______>_____

Jak glared at this so-called king across the low table. He might not have been in chains anymore, but he clearly wasn't free to leave. Sig had the keys to the Hellcats, and there were three big Wastelanders guarding the entrance of the tent. He was stuck, unless one of them happened to be carrying enough eco to transform him. But even if he could change form and fight his way out, what was the point? He had nowhere to go, and no one he could trust but Daxter.

His eyebrows dropped lower into a look that left the average KG shuddering. To his irritation, his stare barely fazed his captor. Damas merely raised an eyebrow at him, almost amused, and then returned his attention to his bowl. He was ignoring Jak.

"It's a long flight back to the Central Wastelands," Damas remarked without looking up. "I will not force you to eat -- You've clearly had a...trying day already. But redshrimp don't keep overnight, and we don't waste food. If you're not going to eat it, give it to someone else."

Daxter and Jak exchanged sidelong glances, neither certain whether to call the grizzled warrior's bluff. Eventually, hunger won out and Jak had to swallow his pride -- and whatever was in the weird red stew he'd been given. It was good, he could begrudgingly admit, but food from captors was hard to trust.

"Alright." Jak finally broke his three hour silence. "What do you want?"

Damas set down his bowl and leaned back. "I already told you when we arrived: I want to know what you remember from your childhood. I want to know what the last...eleven? Twelve? Years were like for you."

"What does that have to do with anything?!" Jak demanded, "It's not gonna give you some...new advantage over Haven or whatever!"

"Yeah! We didn't even grow up there!" Daxter chimed in. "Whatever plans you got, you better spill 'em, Spikes. Me an' Jak, we’re done being good little pawns, you got it?"

This time, Damas did smile. "I have no need of pawns. Nor do I particularly require any extra advantages against Haven."

He chuckled darkly. "They do not know even now how precarious their position is."

Jak stiffened. "Are you threatening them?" he asked, almost growling the words. "They held up their end of the bargain."

"At your expense."

That wound was still too fresh for Jak to defend against. Pain welled up under his ribs, almost silencing him.

"That's what you wanted, Wolf. What did you think they were gonna do? Hide a messed-up street rat and let you kill the governor's right hand man? They aren't that dumb."

Damas’s smile fell, and his face settled into a carefully practiced neutrality. "You are...loyal to them?"

The truth was out before Jak even recognized it as truth.

"No. I'm loyal to the those who are loyal to me. And...some of them live in that city."

Damas nodded, and a hint of tension left his shoulders. "A good answer. For these friends' sakes then, I am glad that the rest of Haven did not attempt a betrayal or otherwise harm you at the handoff."

Daxter blinked. He had a bad feeling about this kind of talk. "W- why? Didn't seem like you had much of a problem with violence."

With a casual shrug, the king said, almost conversationally, "If M- Jak had had so much as a scratch on him, I would have razed the walls anyway."

Jak’s mouth went dry. "That's-! That's crazy! You can't do that, there's still metalheads out there!"

Damas picked up his bowl again and leveled a meaningful look at Jak.

"Perhaps they should have thought of that before snatching you out of your cradle and using a child for cannon fodder, hmm?"

What?

Jak set his bowl down with a smack. "What do you know about that?" he snarled, "You're the one who wanted the "Dark Warrior", aren't you?"

For a moment, his captor faltered. A single ripple tipped across the liquid in the bowl, betraying his reaction. His jaw tightened, and Jak wondered if the mask was about to fall. About time. Three hours was a long time to play nice before letting the other shoe drop.

"If I had used any other name," said Damas, halting between words now and then as if gathering his thoughts, "I suspect the Council would have feigned ignorance. I gather there are...connotations to that description of you. I chose it so that they would not be able to hide you from me."

With a frustrated growl, Jak slammed the flat of his hand against the table.

"Yeah yeah, I'm a bioweapon, I know. Precursors, everybody's the same. I'm not a possession, buddy. If you think you can make me fight for you, it won't end well. But hey, I'd love to see you try."

One of the guards lifted the flap at the mouth of the tent and frowned in at them. One hand strayed to his Peacemaker, clearly ready to defend his leader from the prisoner's challenge. Damas waved a hand, dismissing him easily.

That they didn't even try to protest should have warned Jak that Damas was a force to be reckoned with in his own right. But, caught up in his confusion and pain, Jak couldn't think beyond lashing out.

"Jak."

Damas set his bowl down and exhaled sharply through his nose.

"All Wastelanders have known the pain of betrayal at some point or other. We know where your anger comes from. But you waste your energy directing it at the people who are simply trying to free you from the city that kidnapped you."

His air of formality dropped for a moment as he calmly met Jak's glare head-on.

"...and if you go around threatening other Wastelanders like that, eventually someone will take offense and you'll end up getting your ass kicked. Pick your battles, son."

Bristling at the condescending epithet -- why did it sit so heavy in his chest? What was with this guy? -- Jak stood up.

"Why are you doing this?" he demanded, "Why me? It's not because of Sig, or you wouldn't give a rip about my memories. What do you care?!"

The instant of pain that flitted over Damas’s face gave Jak pause for a moment. In spite of himself, he felt a little bad. But why would something he'd said make the Dune-Wolf flinch like he'd been struck? He contemplated bolting when the king stood up, but he wasn't close enough to Daxter for a clean getaway.

But when Damas stood, he was melancholic, rather than angry. He eased a half step closer, then stopped.

"What do you remember about your early childhood?" he asked again. This time, there was a catch in his words.

"The place you were born? Your clan? Your people?"

Daxter scurried over to grip a handful of Jak's trouser leg, willing him to calm down and think for a second. Couldn't he tell what Spikes was getting at? Well, maybe he couldn't. Jak was pretty panicky at the moment. But from outside of Jak's head, it was just a bit easier to put some pieces together. Jak was right: this wasn't just about them being Sig’s friends. This was about the Kid. Or rather, who the Kid had been before Samos found him in Haven. Frankly, it made sense to Daxter for Jak's preschool self to have been the child of Wastelanders rather than some fancy-schmancy princeling like the Underground thought. With the way that kid hated shoes and ran off into danger at every turn, he had to have had parents with Sig-like habits.

"Just- just give him some space," Daxter squeaked, waving a paw at Damas. "He's too worked up right now to hear what you're sayin'. Jak and me, we've been through some bad stuff. Ya have to block some of it out sometimes just to sleep at night, y'know? It's not his fault he can't remember!"

Damas’s shoulders fell, just a little, and he nodded. "I...understand," he said heavily. "He...no longer remembers us."

"Remember you?"

Jak fought the urge to duck his head or avert his eyes. He was missing something important -- something besides his early memories -- and he was sick of secrecy.

"Does everyone in this world speak in riddles? I just want a straight answer for once! Who are you people?"

One foot in front of the other, barely noticeable, Damas approached carefully. He paused with every twitch of Jak's muscles, every uneasy breath. Then he was within arms reach, and he reached out slowly. Tensed, Jak raised his fists in a guard position, ready to defend himself, but Damas showed no sign of aggression. He folded his hands around Jak’s forearms and gently pushed them back down. The guy was definitely stronger than Jak had thought. As they stood there in a strange, awkward stalemate, he searched Jak’s face as though looking for something -- or maybe someone -- he'd lost.

"We- we are your people, Jak," he said quietly, raspy and full of conviction. "Your tribe. You are -- you always have been -- one of ours. And we-"

He stopped and looked away for an instant before meeting his eyes again.

"I. I have- been looking for you for a long time."

_________________________________________

[Time Skip: Jak is too distracted by getting to act his age for the first time to put a lot of thought into getting answers. But a recurring childhood nightmare finally revisits him after two years of only having Errol related nightmares. And the elements of it start becoming too familiar to ignore.]

________________________________________

The lift rattled, interrupting the pre-dawn strategy meeting. Every Spargan present tensed for the same reason: nobody interrupted the council in the wee hours unless somebody was dead, dying, or doing something heinous.

Whoever they'd expected to see staggering out of the elevator, it wasn't Jak. Most of the council had become familiar with him in the last two months -- his antics in the Arena were pretty hard to forget, after all. But the boy standing ankle deep in water now was a far cry from the rash rookie they'd all come to accept as both Damas’s Favorite and simultaneously the reason the king was drinking more coffee than usual.

Damas studied Jak, disheveled and distraught, standing in the artificial stream, and a sense of foreboding filled him. The boy's eyes were red and sleepless, his chest heaving; he hadn't even bothered to put on a shirt before showing up without a summons. Jak never left his fractal-like dark eco scars uncovered. Damas was instantly on the alert.

"What's wrong?" he asked, voicing what the rest of his council was already wondering. Daxter wasn't with him. Daxter was always with him! Had something happened?

All Jak managed to get out was a strangled, "It was you!"

Damas wasn't sure what Jak meant by that, but he hastily turned to his inner circle and cleared his throat.

"I'm afraid I need to call a brief recess in the meeting. Would you give us the room?"

It was phrased as a request, but it wasn't really. They all knew he could've just ordered them out, but he respected them enough to behave as though they were equals. For his sake, they could let him have some privacy to deal with...whatever was happening here. Seem frowned at Jak, but gracefully nodded and gathered their comrades to retreat into the map chamber for the time being.

The room was silent now, save for the musical gurgle of the water. Damas cycled through a few calming breaths, then approached Jak slowly, palms up, attempting to put him at ease.

"What do you mean, son?" he asked, keeping his voice even and calm as much as he could.

He wanted to ask if Jak had finally remembered something, if he'd had the nightmare again. But the fear of the answer being no again stifled the question before he could ask.

Jak reacted to the term of endearment strangely. He wobbled, then laced his fingers through his hair and tugged. His breathing rattled at an unhealthy speed.

"You-!" he gasped, and when Damas had gotten close enough, he let go of his hair to clutch the front of Damas’s tunic.

"Say it."

"Say what, Jak?"

"The thing! That thing that freaked you out from the dream I keep having! I need to hear you say it."

Understanding crashed over Damas like a wave, with no small amount of hope. Somehow petrified, he answered in a shaking voice, "...in this life or the next."

He swallowed hard and made the choice to take a leap of faith.

"I will find you, whether it is in this life, or the next."

Jak almost collapsed then, but Damas caught him by the elbows just as his knees buckled. Jak's fingers tightened in his robe, pulling so tightly that his armor began to shift.

"You were there!" he cried out, "You were there the night with the fire!"

"Yes," Damas whispered, shutting his eyes, "I was."

Jak trembled, too overwhelmed with the desperation of needing closure to process the fact that his fear of rejection had seemingly taken a backseat to clinging to the man he'd begun to look up to like a lifeline.

"Tell me!" he begged, eyes wild, "You have to tell me something! Why did you say that? Why were you, specifically, looking for me? Who are you?"

This was the moment Damas had waited for, for so, so long. It was no longer about withholding his own selfish needs for Jak's sake; Jak needed answers now. It was time. So he forced aside the ache of tears unshed, folded Jak into his arms, and just held him tightly. Let him be an anchor, until this storm had passed.

"I'm here," he whispered, "It's alright. I'll tell you whatever you want to know. Anything, dear one."

This close to Damas’s chest, with his mind beginning to clear a bit, Jak finally began to notice details he'd ignored in the past.

The worn texture of the linen tangled between his fingers, the band of abalone shards around Damas's neck- and the edge of something hanging between the shells he'd never stopped to notice before. He couldn't see it, but the shape he felt pressing through the tunic and into his collarbone was devastatingly familiar.

Two comets orbiting each other, tails of eco trailing.

The seal of the House of Mar.

The last pieces fell into place, heavy as a mountain. It wasn't projection, or trauma-bonding, that fueled those dreams he'd written off as childish. They were fragments of memory. The Seal against his chest was proof, unavoidable and undeniable proof, of the realization Jak was beginning to hope so desperately might be true. But even so, it seemed too great a leap to make. Too presumptuous by far. What if he was wrong? He'd never recover from the shame of it.

His voice leaked out of him before he could stop himself, so small, so weak. Damas had to strain his ears to hear him.

"Are you my father?"

The last vestiges of the ice between them shattered.

Damas sank to the floor -- whether out of emotion or relief, his legs would no longer hold him up -- taking Jak with him. He embraced him so fiercely that Jak's lungs protested. He pressed the boy against his heart and let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob.

"Yes," he gasped, "Yes, Jak, I am. I've got you. Your dad's here. Dad's got you."

Jak's vision blurred, blending everything into a sea of golds and browns. "Then...all of that before; the siege, everything- I- I'm not even the right kid anymore! You...came back for me anyway?"

Damas rested his chin against Jak’s scalp and smiled despite it all.

"Always," he promised fervently, "I told you, son. I told you I would find you, in this life or the next. I'll always come back for you."

[real-life-cloud]

18 and your choice of ship?

hiii sorry this took so long!! i decided to pick momojirou ♥ i listened exclusively to rain ambience mixes of animal crossing music and p5 music while writing this lol

you can real the drabble on ao3 -> here

you can see the prompt list -> here

⛅

Prompt 18: Walking Home wordcount: 1.4k

During their final period for the day, Kyouka started to hear raindrops on the roof of UA. She doubted the others heard it—aside maybe Shouji—but her sensitive ears certainly did.

Internally, she cursed. She didn't bother checking the weather that morning, and didn't have an umbrella. 'Hopefully,' she thought, 'if I'm lucky, the rain will pass quickly.'

Jirou Kyouka wasn't known for being lucky.

That rainy, gloomy Thursday afternoon was no different. By the time she was about to leave, it had turned into a full-on downpour.

She could ask a classmate to share, or see if anyone had a spare. But an anxious and uncomfortable feeling swirled around in her gut at the thought of doing so. It was the first week of school, she barely knew any of them. What if they thought she was being too familiar with them? She fidgeted with her audio jacks as she watched the rainfall.

'No one is going to hate me for forgetting an umbrella.' She mentally reassured herself. It did nothing to get rid of the feeling.

"Wow, it's really coming down…" A voice to her left startled her out of her thoughts.

She turned to see Yaoyorozu staring out into the rain as well. A folded umbrella lay in her hands, as she was a smart person who probably checked the weather every day.

She really was so smart. And beautiful, and competent, and tall. Not that that was all it took for her to get a crush. She did not have a crush. Probably. She barely knew the girl. They hadn’t properly talked outside of a brief introduction. Who knew if she even remembered Kyouka’s name.

Yaoyorozu cocked her head to the side, her pretty black hair swaying along with it. It looked so glossy, yet never greasy. "Did you not bring an umbrella, Jirou?" 

"Ah, well." Kyouka faltered, feeling embarrassed. That answered one question. "I forgot to check the weather this morning, heh." She laughed.

Yaoyorozu's brows knit together, "You're a highschooler now, you really should be remembering things like this!" She chided, sounding more like a teacher than a student.

Kyouka's eyes fell to the floor. Of course it was one of her most responsible—and gorgeous—classmates that found her like this. She felt her face heat up.

A beat of silence, then, "Sorry, I didn't mean to, um, what I meant was-" Yaoyorozu sighed, clearly flustered. "You… walk to the nearest station, don't you, Jirou?"

Kyouka nodded dumbly.

"I could walk you there; if you wanted, that is."

Kyouka nodded again, more enthusiastically. Then, she finally remembered to speak, "If you don't mind."

She smiled, "Not at all." Then she opened up the umbrella and they stepped into the downpour together.

She was so close to her. She even smelled nice—like fresh cotton. Kyouka inhaled sharply when their shoulders brushed. God, this was so stupid. Was this really all it took for her to get a crush?

Yaoyorozu closed her eyes and inhaled, "I do love the smell of rain, though. Don't you?" She suddenly asked with a smile.

Kyouka fumbled for a moment, but only a moment. "Uh, yeah! Yeah, though, I think it's even better in the fall 'cause it, like, the leaves-"

"It mixes with the smell of fallen leaves! I feel exactly the same." She cut in excitedly. She was so cute that Kyouka couldn't even be upset at being cut off.

Kyouka giggled. Giggled. In what world did she ever giggle? “Yeah.”

Okay, it was definitely a crush.

They walked slowly, and Kyouka was glad for it. In part because her legs were much shorter than Yaoyorozu's, but also because it gave them more time together. Students around them were walking home, too. Some slowly, others running without umbrellas with the hope that if they were fast enough, they wouldn’t get too wet. Kyouka was almost one of them, a few minutes prior.

Green leaves poked through the pink cherry blossom trees, it would be summer before they knew it. She much preferred spring. As she looked around, she noticed the rain getting lighter.

She looked up at Yaoyorozu only to find her already looking back. They both quickly looked away.

Was Yaoyorozu just as curious about her? She bit the inside of her cheek at the thought—no, she shouldn’t get her hopes up like that. ‘Seriously Kyouka, you just realized you even have a crush on her…’ She chastised herself.

The rain, much gentler than before, filled the silence between them.

Yaoyorozu spoke up first. She cleared her throat daintily, “I apologize for earlier, I didn’t mean to start scolding you like that. I’m not your mother, or even your upperclassman! Sorry about that.” She said, sounding formal even when she looked embarrassed.

She was still worried about that? God, she was cute. “Hey, it’s fine, dude. I mean, I should know better by now—this used to happen all the time in middle school!” Kyouka laughed and tried for a reassuring smile, but Yaoyorozu just looked even more troubled. Her pace slowed then stopped.

“Goodness, would you just run in the rain? Didn’t you get sick?” She asked with a hand clutched on her chest.

Kyouka’s laugh turned more awkward, “Yes and yes.”

Even Yaoyorozu’s appalled face was cute. Her brows scrunched together and her hand shot up to cover her mouth—like a worried little granny, except she was a pretty, teenage girl. “Well, I’m glad I ran into you, then.” She huffed, then began to walk again.

Kyouka hummed as she followed suit, “Me too.”

“If you ever forget in the future, I can walk you to the station again. We can’t have you getting sick—every day of training is important!” She scolded, sounding older than she was yet again.

Kyouka laughed, “You sound like a teacher.”

The taller girl blushed at her teasing, “I don’t mean to…”

Kyouka continued to giggle, and the tension between them softened.The rain was slowing down to a drizzle, but Kyouka silently, selfishly hoped they stayed under the umbrella anyway.

Yaoyorozu changed the subject to schoolwork, and Kyouka found that talking to her was actually pretty easy. Especially when none of her other classmates were there to make fun of how obviously infatuated she was with the girl.

The train station came into view, and Kyouka repressed a sigh. Had they really gotten there so soon? On any other day, she’d be thankful for the short trip. But she worried—what if this easy closeness was confined under their umbrella? What if Kyouka came to school the next day and suddenly she didn’t know how to talk to her anymore? She didn’t want it to end.

But eventually, they made it to the train station doors. The two of them ducked under the covered entrance, but Kyouka noticed Yaoyorozu lag behind her. She turned to give her a questioning look, “Aren’t you coming inside?”

“Oh, no.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “No, I get picked up by car, actually, so this is where we part ways.”

For a moment, she just stared. Then it set in.

“You didn’t have to walk me the whole way!” She blurted out, waving her hands in a flustered motion. Why didn’t she think of that? Everyone knew Yaoyorozu was a rich girl, of course she got picked up by car.

Kyouka was so busy in her own head that she didn’t notice the other girl step forward, and jolted in surprise when she grabbed her hand. Her hands were so soft, her nails perfectly manicured. Her fingertips were cold.

“I wanted to.” She said, oddly serious. Her expression melted into a smile that had Kyouka’s chest swirling. “I never get to walk home with friends, it was nice. So don’t worry about it, okay? I already texted my chauffeur to pick me up here instead.”

A sleek black car pulled up, perfectly on time. Yaoyorozu gestured to the vehicle as if to say, “See?”

A mustached man in a suit emerged from the driver’s side to open the backseat door for her with a bow. She was rich rich, huh? Yaoyorozu thanked the man politely, then turned back to Kyouka one last time. “It was nice talking to you, Jirou. I hope we can get to know each other better.”

Kyouka stammered out a, “Me too.” And then she was driving away.

She decided right then: she was never going to bring an umbrella to school again.

[softsnzstuff]

thinking about Wayne picking up a small cold at work and not thinking much of it cuz it only lasts a couple days until Eddie (in his true dramatic fashion) gets is 10 times worse (like total feverish sneezy mess) and he doesn’t want to bother Wayne but also all he wants is to be taken care of

First of all I Love this prompt! I’m so weak for the Munsons and this is such a them thing. Have some CanonVerse Munson action. ~KB

*****

Sunday

You could say Wayne Munson was old school. Growing up in the early 40’s, he was accustomed to a hard days’ work, even on the bad days.

In his lifetime, he’d had to work through snowstorms, heat waves, strained wrists, and so much more. So it comes as no surprise to Eddie that his uncle is still go go go when he wakes up one morning with a cold.

The 20 year old had been living with his uncle for the last 12 years. They sometimes joked that they knew each other better than they knew themselves.

One thing Eddie knew was that Wayne was always awake by noon. His uncle worked nights at the plant, would come home around 5am and sleep until twelve. He’d get up, have his coffee, and usually they’d work on fixing up parts of the car if Eddie wasn’t in school.

So when 12:30pm rolled around and Wayne was just starting to wake up, Eddie knew something was up. It was Sunday, so he was at home making himself some lunch. Apart from the sizzling of the grilled cheese in the pan, the only other noise came from the older man on the pullout.

“H’RUSSHew!”

Eddie looked over his shoulder, “Bless you!”

Wayne groaned, the mattress squeaking as he sat up and cleared his throat. “Thanks.”

Eddie tried not to let the concern be heard in his voice as he spoke, “I’m making grilled cheese. You want one?”

The man shook his head as he headed towards the shared bathroom to brush his teeth. Eddie frowned slightly, plating his grilled cheese and turning off the burner.

He was leaned against the counter, eating his sandwich when his uncle emerged from the bathroom, looking slightly more awake. He was pouring his coffee when Eddie decided to address the elephant in the room.

“Feeling alright?”

Wayne sighed, of course Eddie could tell, “Feeling a bit under the weather, Ed.”

“I’ll live, son.” He added for good measure, chuckling at the panic on Eddie’s face. “Probably gonna rest before my shift tonight.”

Eddie didn’t think he should have to be at work, but he was glad his uncle was taking the day to rest instead of working on the car. “I uh rented a new movie the other day. Wanna watch together?”

“Sure, put it on.” Wayne smiled as he took the coffee and sat back down on the pullout in the living room.

Eddie was fiddling with the tv before he made himself comfortable on the couch.

***

Tuesday Night

Eddie’s alone at the trailer after Wayne leaves for his shift at the plant. He’d just performed a small gig at the Hideout and had just gotten home. The last few days were filled with his uncle resting or watching tv.

The 20 year old has been trying to keep things in order while Wayne was down - dishes, attempting laundry and other things like that. The living room was pretty messy now, so he took it upon himself to clean the clutter - picking up tissues and binning them, putting the medicine back on the shelf, making Wayne’s bed look nice.

By the time he’d finished, he was exhausted. He went to lie down on his bed and fell asleep.

***

Thursday Morning

The alarm came way too early. How was it only Thursday? The long haired man peeled himself out of bed and shivered slightly as the air hit him. He pulled on jeans, socks and his leather jacket before he went to brush his teeth and tame his hair.

Wayne knocked on the open door and poked his head in.

“What’re you doing awake?” Eddie asked.

“Just wanted to say thanks for being a help the last week. I took tonight off. Wanted to see if you want to work on the car after school?”

“Yeah sure!” Eddie smiled.

Wayne nodded and padded off to go back to sleep. Eddie’s nose was buzzing. He scrunched it up and rubbed at it to try and quell the tickle. Not wanting to wake up Wayne, he slipped on his shoes, grabbed his backpack and keys and hurried off to the van.

He sat in the drivers seat and allowed the tickle to bloom now that he was alone. His elbow hovered in front of his face as he squinted, nostrils flaring slightly.

“H’yisSSHuhew! T’CHiew! …hh - H’eKSHTT!”

He groaned as he pulled back, mess clinging to the crook of his leather jacket sleeve. He reached over to grab some tissues from the glove compartment, first wiping off his arm, then blowing his nose. He could feel the congestion settle and swore under his breath.

He definitely caught Wayne’s cold.

***

Thursday Afternoon

Today sucked. Eddie was already the “freak” of Hawkins High and hated drawing unwanted attention to himself. So of course his cold had decided that it would turn him into a sneezy, germy mess.

The first couple classes he could get away with asking to go to the bathroom to cough or blow his nose in private, but by the end half of the day, his nose was running so much, he couldn’t ask to go every couple of minutes.

He sank into his chair in the back of Ms.O’Donnell’s class, silently wiping his nose on his bandana every few minutes, sniffling. Robin had the desk next to him and kept glancing over at him and shooting him a glance of concern. He wanted to reassure her, but he was too busy fighting off the tickle buzzing in his left nostril.

He managed to fight it off for about 25 minutes, but towards the end of class it was too strong. He brought the bandana up to his nose and tried his best to be quiet.

“H’xxT! ii’xtch! X’T’chew!”

“Bless you.” Robin whispered.

He nodded and rolled his eyes, trying to blow his nose discreetly, blowing his cover when a thick gurgle came out instead. Fuck.

A few of the popular kids turned around and stared at him with a look of disgust, his cheeks crimson with embarrassment. Once the bell rang signaling school was over, he all but bolted from the classroom.

Robin grabbed her notebook and bag and jogged after him, walking towards the parking lot. “Are you okay Eddie?”

“Yeah Robin, I’b fucki’g peachy.” He coughed to himself before stopping and turning to her. “Sorry. That was m’bean. I have the whhh worst - Heh!”

He brought the crumpled, damp bandana back up to his face.

“H’ixxTCHU! N’Gshuh! … H’aKSHT’iew! Ughhhh I have the worst fucki’g cold.”

Robin bit her lip, not sure how to fix it. She dug around in her backpack and pulled out a travel pack of tissues.

“Well sneezing into the same wet bandana probably isn’t helping. You can take these. I usually hang onto them for Steve but I have loads at the house.”

Eddie pocketed the bandana and took the tissues from Robin, “Thanks Birdie.”

She nodded before turning towards her ride home, “Feel better!”

Eddie smiled before turning on his heels and muttering “I hope so…”

***

He’d all but spaced out on the drive home, mentally taking note on how shitty he felt. Headache? Yes. Sore throat? Yep. Sneezing his head off? 100%. He could not wait to get back to the trailer, shower and climb into be-

Shit.

As he pulled up to the trailer, Wayne smiled and waved. He was outside, hood of the car open and he was wiping his hands off on a dirty rag. Fuck he totally forgot they were going to work on the car today. That could take hours.

As he turned the van off, Eddie took a deep breath and put on his best ‘everything’s fine’ act, finally stepping out of the vehicle.

“Hey kid, how was school?”

Eddie’s brain quickly scanned for a response that didn’t involve M’s or N’s.

“It was uh… it was good. Snfff”

Wayne noted the boy’s posture. His usually full-of-energy nephew looked like he could about collapse, and his nose was tinged pink, as were his cheeks.

He knew immediately that Eddie was sick and that he would try to deny it so he could hang out with him. He quirked an eyebrow. Two could play this game. He’d been doing it for 12 years.

“Great! Why don’t you put your bag down and we can work on fixing up the engine?”

This was a test. Eddie seemed stumped for a minute, trying to come up with an excuse to go inside first because he had to sneeze again.

“Yeah, let m’be just uhh phhh put this hh away?”

“You can just set it on the porch for now. I got the car all set up for your magic touch.” Wayne clapped a hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie panicked, trying to turn to keep his uncle out of the spray zone. He brought the collar of his shirt up to his face just in time.

“Okay holdonIgotta.. H’eKSHTiew! T’shew! iigSHUh! … H’eSHiyue!”

Wayne sighed, “Bless you, Ed.”

“Sorry those uh SNF sn’duck up on m’be…” Eddie lied, wiping his nose on the back of his wrist and sniffling thickly.

“Mmhmm.” Wayne nodded sarcastically, not buying his nephews act for one second, “Eddie, go march you and that terrible cold of yours into bed.”

Eddie nodded and sniffled again against his wrist as he headed up the porch steps to the front door.

“And blow your nose!” Wayne called after him, as he closed the hood of the car.

“Yes sir! Ah’yeSHuhew! Ughhhhh”

***

After a nice shower and changing into pajamas and a sweatshirt, Eddie retreated to his bed, a box of tissues in clutch, one pressed to his nose.

Wayne popped in shortly after with a bowl of soup on a tray, “Brought you dinner! Don’t want you at school tomorrow, so just try and rest okay?”

Eddie nodded taking the tray.

“Didn’t mean for you to get sick too. Sorry kid.”

“It’s okay Wayne, this is’t the first time and it wo’t be the last.”

The two of them laughed, knowing Eddie was referencing the time two years ago that he gave Wayne bronchitis.

“Get some rest Eddie. Drink all that broth.”

The 20 year old nodded, setting aside his Hellfire binder so he could eat the soup. Being sick sucked but it definitely sucked less having Wayne to take care of him.

[thegirlwhowrites642]

Written for @hinnyfest

prompt #2: I did something bad

(I know I'm late, sorry)

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

Harry followed Quidditch, he loved Quidditch, but since Ginny's change of career, he had stopped being as updated as he once had been about all the performance stats of the various players, he usually knew just the ones that ended up in his wife's articles. So, when Ginny had told him that lately, some players had been having unreasonably good performances and that her latest interview with one of the new Puddlemere's players had confirmed her suspicion of weird potions going around the League, he had been surprised. He had told her that she had no actual proof, and therefore he couldn't look into it, that she too could do nothing about it (because he knew his wife far too well). But Harry's brain hadn't been able to let it go, and when that day, one of the informants from Knockturn Alley had said something about highly-empowering potions in red bottles, he had finally let himself go down the rabbit hole and now he was seated at a kitchen table full of files while his kids hopefully weren't killing each other upstairs. 

He heard the entrance door open, and before he could put any of the files away, his wife was in front of him, hands behind her back. "I did something bad," she said, not looking particularly guilty, Harry thought.

"There are no patronuses for me from the office this time, it's already an improvement," He still remembered vividly the faces of pure embarrassment of the two junior Aurors. He had felt particularly glad that Mrs Robards never had Ginny's temper.

"They were so melodramatic, you rightfully hex someone," Harry really couldn't fault her, he had had to stop himself from killing the man when he had found out what he had done, "and just because it was inside the Ministry..."

"Gin,"

"Uhm?"

"What did you do?"

"Right,"

Ginny put two photos on the table, they were of a locker, and there were little red bottles inside.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. When would she ever stop putting herself in danger? "Ginny," he growled, "I told you to leave it be," Then he frowned. "How did you even get into Puddlemere's facilities at this hour? They train in the morning on Thursdays..."

She sat down, a playful smirk on her lips. "The security guy has a crush on me,"

"What?" 

"Oh, don't start, you get free things all the time because women like you,"

"Do I?" he asked confused. If he did, it was only because he was Harry Potter, certainly not because of his looks or personality. Ginny, on the other end, could charm anyone in a room without even trying.

"I'm not even validating that with an answer," she dismissed him, "Wait, how do you know Puddlemere's training hours?"

"Er..."

Her bright gaze went from him to the files on the table, "You looked into it! Mister I-am-Head-Auror-I-have-to-follow-the-rules, ah! You knew I was right!" Her brown eyes danced, she was so beautiful, Harry briefly hoped the kids had all decided to take a nap.

"Maybe,"

"So, what do we do now?"

"Besides setting a terrible example for our children?"

"If we went through a war, they can get over this,"

"I need to find some legitimate proof to start an official investigation,"

Ginny looked taken aback. "What? I thought we were going to sort it out ourselves! What happened to the guy who lead a secret anti-government club?"

"He hated seeing you in danger too, so I'm not sure where you think this argument is going,"

She huffed in that adorable way of hers that James had inherited. "Fine. I'll go greet the children and take the parchment, I need to start writing all of this down," Harry's smile fell off his face, and his heart stopped, Ginny looked at him, and as usual, she already knew what he was thinking, "Did you seriously believe I wasn't going to write an article on this? Have you hit your head?"

"You are not following the official investigation," His voice firm. If his suspicions were right, this case was far more than a couple of athletes with poor moral codes.

She rolled her eyes, "Sure,"

"I don't like press around when I'm working," he insisted.

"I think it's adorable of you to believe you have a choice,"

Harry knew she was right. The moment it got out that the Sports Department hadn't noticed what was going on in the League, Kingsley would only encourage some press in favour at least of the Aurors. "You spend too much time around Rita,"

"The woman has no soul, but she does know how to do her job."

[coffeeheartaddict2]

I posted 1,492 times in 2022

That's 1,245 more posts than 2021!

203 posts created (14%)

1,289 posts reblogged (86%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@jerzwriter

@genevievemd

@jamespotterthefirst

@liaromancewriter

@potionsprefect

I tagged 256 of my posts in 2022

#open heart - 167 posts

#ethan ramsey - 152 posts

#choices fanfic writers creations - 89 posts

#casey valentine - 64 posts

#asked and answered - 42 posts

#throwback thursday - 29 posts

#choices - 22 posts

#ethan ramsey x mc - 22 posts

#tobias carrick - 18 posts

#sunday six - 15 posts

Longest Tag: 114 characters

#or i don’t know call the fic where dr caveman handles himself to thots of dr allende whilst in the amazon medicine

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

A place to call home

Book: Open Heart (post series)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Casey Valentine

Catergory: domestic fluff

Warnings: sexual references

Summary: Ethan and a pregnant Casey move into their new apartment in the seaport district.

Disclaimer: characters belong to Pixelberry.

Authors note: my submission for @choicesmonthlychallengejune2022 . Prompts are in bold

——-

It was a bittersweet time for Ethan. He had lived in his penthouse apartment for 14 years. When he first got it he was barely there to be enjoyed but 7 years ago a bright young intern started at Edenbrook and slowly started breaking down his walls. Even before they were together he started to see what this unit could be with her. At first it is where they met to discuss and do research to help Naveen, it was where they were first intimate, it is where he first told her he loved her and a year later it is where he proposed. He had hoped that they would stay here forever, but no matter how hard Casey tried, she never felt like that this unit was truly theirs. This feeling became more apparent when they discussed the likelihood of extending their family. Ethan hated that Casey never truly felt like this place was theirs so they agreed to move. When they started looking they did not think they would find a new place so soon. They started looking at Seaport as it was a good neighbourhood, good schools and other families in the area and still close to work. They found a three bedroom unit and both fell in love with it, both loved the kitchen, Casey the outdoor area and Ethan the open plan layout. They put an offer on it and it was accepted. They had decided to keep this unit as an investment property so they did not have to worry about selling it. Neither had planned on Casey being pregnant when they moved but Casey was eager to start the nursery for the baby when they moved.

Moving day came and both Ethan and Casey had mixed emotions. Both were excited for the new beginnings that the new unit brought but it was also saying goodbye to this unit. Even though Casey always saw it as Ethan’s place there was lots of memories for her also.

The removalists came and took away the boxes. Both were glad that Jenner was with Alan for this process.

They were at their new apartment. Ethan found the wine glasses and opened the non alcoholic wine.

“We’ve moved, to our next chapter”

“To our next chapter.”

They are in the kitchen enjoying their takeout when Casey notes a familiar lustful look in Ethan’s eye. Ethan went and hugged Casey from behind. Ethan was wanting to christen the apartment but he knew Casey was exhausted from such a big day. She had not suffered with much morning sickness but the exhaustion was there. Casey leans back and kisses him. She breaks the kiss and sits on the island bench. Ethan kisses her again, more heatedly. He breaks the kiss and asks her if she is sure she wants to continue. Casey nods and kisses Ethan again. After a very heated christening of the kitchen they moved to the couch and rested.

“Was that as good as you hoped?”

“Better dare I say” said Ethan stroking Casey’s belly. “As much as I saw my old apartment as ours, this was definitely a move we needed to do. Your happiness is important to me.”

“It is a new beginning that is for sure. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They went to bed that night, exhausted but also happy and excited about what life was about to bring them and neither could be happier.

Authors note: a short one but we are in their new unit and awaiting the arrival of baby Hudson. As I said this is my submission for day 7 of the @choicesmonthlychallengejune2022

Tagging: @jerzwriter @liaromancewriter @genevievemd @jamespotterthefirst @schnitzelbutterfingers @binny1985 @a-crepusculo @bex-la-get @crazy-loca-blog @potionsprefect

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

25 notes - Posted June 5, 2022

#4

Honestly I love you

Book: Open Heart (book 2)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Casey Valentine

Category: Angsty pining

Warnings:

Summary: Post Softball game and pre heist from Casey’s perspective.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Pixelberry

Authors note: submission for the choices fanfic writers creation ONJ event. Prompt will appear in bold.

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍

It was the day after the softball game. Casey was in a state of flux. Yes they won the game, there was even a brawl when she crashed into Landrat but that was not on her mind at all.

That kiss. After months of denial he had kissed her, not just a friendly peck but a no holds barred all the emotions that she knew she had buried deep. On the way home she wished Alan had not interrupted but she was also glad that Ethan and Alan were having a chat that was well overdue.

The next day came and they did not discuss the kiss, but she could tell that there was a change in Ethan and Casey did not know what to make of it. A snippet of a song then randomly came into mind. “You don’t have to answer, I can see it in your eyes.”

Could perhaps the conversation that they needed to have be positive. Casey lived in the vain hope it would be but with all the uncertainty around the hospital it was hard to stay optimistic. Casey goes about her rounds, trying to keep Ethan out of her mind but the conversations, the looks he has given her keep playing on loop. She is finally taken out of her loop when she gets a page. Herself and Jackie find their way to Kyra’s office and she is coughing up blood. They take Kyra for an MRI. Casey already knows that it will be bad news. Ethan is there to counsel and console her, adding another event to the never ending Ethan loop.

After awhile it becomes too much, yes, Edenbrook’s future was shaky, yes Kyra’s prognosis, even though she did not have the results yet was bad, however the tipping point was Ethan and the realisation that the feeling she thought she had buried deep were indeed love and not only did they need to have a chat, Casey hoped it would be positive, not because she could sense that he had similar feelings deep down but she knew she did not think she could handle it if the chat went the other way. Casey punched the door and June enters.

“Just great” thought Casey. “The last thing I need.”

Little did she know that June’s proposal would set the train in motion for the talk to occur.

Authors note 2: Yes this is when June puts the idea to Casey to do the heist. Short and sweet today

Tagging: @jerzwriter @jamespotterthefirst @genevievemd @ofmischiefandmedicine @liaromancewriter @a-crepusculo @bex-la-get @crazy-loca-blog @schnitzelbutterfingers @binny1985 @potionsprefect @tessa-liam

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

25 notes - Posted August 19, 2022

#3

So I check my phone because I see a comment I posted had been commented on and randomly scroll to find some lovely people and my fave content creators vilified.

I won’t rehash the sentiment about getting some balls and not hiding behind anon or creating an account for the sole purpose because well that has all been done.

I will say this though, we could have chosen to keep our content to ourselves, stop creating when the shitshow of a train wreck that we know as book 3 was released but we did not. I know personally When I embarked on when egos collide, it was initially going to be an AU but there was so many missed opportunities especially with Ethan and Tobias and also Leland that with my initial plan of a redemption arc for E&T that brings down Leland fitted too well with the scant bones of what potentially could have been a good book but I digress.

Even though I am not a prolific content creator, and I am not in the what this person perceived to be some kind of sheep gang, I have never found any of the people named to be anything but what was said

Most of my writing has been a different take o cannon, rewriting 14-20 of book 2 being the first multi part writing I undertook but especially when writing WEC I got inspired to write some fics within canon and I would like to thank @genevievemd for giving me the inspiration and motivation to write Fortune favours the brave.

And as for these people not supporting other content writers- well without @genevievemd I would not have had the medical plot point that was the final takedown of Leland, @jamespotterthefirst your comments give me a boost like nothing else and inspire me to keep going, @jerzwriter for just being an awesome human and a good sounding board

Life is hard, we have all survived the pandemic and to be honest, escaping into our own little corners of the fandom and putting out our own little OH universes helps us escape the reality and helps us unwind.

@jerzwriter @jamespotterthefirst @genevievemd @liaromancewriter @lucy-268 @potionsprefect @a-crepusculo @bex-la-get @takeharryandgo and the other people mentioned in that hateful post. I love you all and keep up your work and all that you do to help us find some sanity in this crazy world.

26 notes - Posted January 25, 2022

#2

Begin Again

Book: Open Heart book 2

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC Casey Valentine

Category: Angst

Rating: Teen +

Trope: there was hurt and comfort

Warnings: mentions of trauma, mental health, medically assisted suicide,sexual references

Summary: following on from the attack and the beginning of dagger mountain.

Disclaimer: Characters, plot points, dialogue (actual and paraphrased)belong to Pixelberry.

Authors note 1: As most of you are aware, I did a rewrite of chapters 14-20 of book 2. This fic will take you upto where I have started my ch14 rewrite. From ch14 of book 2 onwards, this corner of the fandom oud canon divergent. Many of the main plot points do exist but there are differences.

——-

Ethan waited in the car whilst Casey went up and packed a bag. While he waited he emailed Naveen to state that he was taking a couple of days off at this stage and that he would keep him apprised of any changes. Ethan hoped that she would stay for more than a few days. He did not know how the events of the attack had affected her but he was having nightmares about her not making it. Once awake he could not get back to sleep, it even got to a point where he would go into hospital early and check on Casey himself to ensure it was only a dream.

Casey came back. She hopped into the car and they headed back to Ethan’s apartment. Casey was exhausted, not just physically but mentally too. They arrived at the apartment and got ready for bed. Ethan could see that Casey was looking anxious and a little apprehensive and he asked her what was the matter.

“I am scared Ethan, after the attack I was that exhausted that all I could do was sleep and when that initial exhaustion wore off I was given a sleeper to ensure I slept but this is the first night without them…”

Ethan hugged her and rubbed his hands up and down her back in comfort.

“I understand being scared. I have had nightmares since the attack, mainly a cure not being found in time, whatever happens we will face it together.” Whispered Ethan and he then placed a kiss on the top of her head. Casey smiled weakly and they settled into bed. Casey fell asleep snuggling into him and Ethan lay awake for a while, enjoying the feeling of her beside him. She was alive and breathing and here and in that moment that is all that mattered. He fell asleep. Ethan was eventually awoken but this time it was not his nightmare but Casey thrashing about in her sleep. He let it play out, not wanting to startle her in what appeared to be a nightmare. She shot up all of a sudden. Ethan placed his hand on her arm, Casey stiffened and then relaxed realising she was not in the room but with Ethan. She started crying, Casey kept asking why she survived. Ethan did not know what to say, he knew the how but the why he did not have an answer for. He assured her that he was here and he hugged her tighter as they both fell back to sleep. Mercifully, both fell into a dreamless sleep. Ethan awoke at his usual time but instead of getting up he lay in bed watching over Casey. He contemplated calling his dad to bring Jenner but decided against it, he wanted to fully focus on Casey. Eventually the need for coffee forced him from bed. He reluctantly got up and went to the kitchen. Ethan made two cups, not knowing how long Casey would sleep for. He just sat down when Casey stirred and he offered her coffee. Casey smiled and took a sip.

“Thank you for the coffee.” Casey say’s gratefully. After a few sips Casey asked, “Did I interrupt your sleep last night?”

“There was a point I felt you thrashing about and when you awoke you asked me why you survived, we both went back to sleep but as for major disruption, No.”

Casey sighed with relief.

“That was my first nightmare that I remember having since….it was not like I dreamed of any different scenarios, it was exactly what happened…”

Casey started to cry again and Ethan grabbed her hand.

“I wasn’t in there when the toxin was deployed but I could see how frightened you were. I didn’t have a nightmare about it last night but I have had nightmares too, except, my nightmare involved you not making it.”

Casey hugged Ethan.

“I am here Ethan.” She whispered “I do not know why I survived but I did.”

They stay locked in their somber embrace until Casey’s stomach rumbles.

“Let’s get some breakfast, Casey.”

Ethan cooks some bacon and eggs. Casey asks how long Ethan would like her to stay.

See the full post

26 notes - Posted April 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Precious

Book: Open Heart (post series)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Casey Ramsey

Category: Angsty fluff

Warnings: mentions of a character death, traumatic birth, language.

Summary: The arrival of Hudson Jonah Ramsey.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Pixelberry.

👶👶👶👶👶👶👶👶👶

June 4th 2025.

Today was Casey’s last day of work before embarking on five months maternity leave. She had received clearance to remain working as far along as she did and she was hopeful to have been able to work remotely for another week but Ethan had put his foot down. He wanted Casey to rest and enjoy some time for herself before Hudson came along. In all honesty Casey was looking forward to the pregnancy to end, even though they had no significant issues, she was done. The lack of sleep due to Hudson kicking or just general discomfort was really getting to her. The nursery was set and all that was needed was Hudson. Casey had started researching ways to bring on labour naturally much to Ethan’s dismay.

“I am anxious to meet him too but surely wouldn’t it be better to let nature take its course?”

“Yes Ethan, you do not have to carry him, get your insides kicked to high heaven, bladder used as a trampoline…”

Ethan cuts her off with a searing kiss. “Hudson will come when he is good and ready.” He whispers in her ear before kissing her.

The next week flies by. Casey starts to get the occasional bout of braxton hick contractions which she finds frustrating more than anything.

The second week drags. Casey’s discomfort level rises. She is more and more anxious for the pregnancy to end. On the evening of the 27th June Casey starts getting contractions. Ethan surprises himself by how calm he is. At 11pm they arrive at the hospital, Casey’s contractions are still seven minutes apart but she is starting to feel nauseous so they are advised to come in. The observations that are done show nothing amiss and Casey is then offered some pain relief. The pain relief works for a time and the labour steadily progresses. At about three am though, the nausea comes back and it is worse. So much so that even Ethan is concerned. Dr Watson comes in and does some more observations. Casey’s blood pressure is starting to spike and the baby is showing early signs of distress. Ethan starts to spiral. The memories of Delores and how she went into full eclampsia surfacing. Try as she might, she was not able to get Ethan to calm down. Casey was stressed also.

“Ethan, I get why you are spiraling but you are no good to me like this.”

This makes Ethan stop and pay attention for which Dr Watson is relieved. Ethan’s medical brain kicks in. Dr Watson advises that they have two options, continue under more stricter observations or have an emergency c-section now. After going through briefly the pros and cons Casey emphatically states that she wants a c-section now. Ethan is quietly relieved that Casey chose this option. Casey is prepped for surgery and Ethan accompanies her.

The c-section goes without a hitch and not long after Hudson Jonah is delivered, Casey’s blood pressure stabilises. While Casey is being stitched up, Hudson is taken away to be weighed and measured and Ethan cut his cord. He is placed on Casey’s chest for some skin to skin time and he starts suckling at Casey’s breast.

Ethan thought the most joyous moment in his life was when Casey said I do but nothing prepared him for the wave of emotion that he was going through. The high and low of their missed miscarriage in 2023, the joy when they found out that this pregnancy stuck and and the sheer relief and joy that they had welcome baby Hudson Jonah to the world. Try as he might, he could not hold back his tears of joy. Casey was exhausted both physically and emotionally but she too was overjoyed. They were eventually taken back to Casey’s room. Ethan stayed with Casey and Hudson. Casey had a well earned rest. Hudson looked so peaceful in his cot. After about an hour, Hudson started to fuss so Ethan picked him up and held him. Hudson calmed down and Ethan spoke to him.

“Welcome to the world Hudson, I am your dad. Both your mother and I are really happy to meet you despite the fright you gave us. We have loved you from when we first found out about you. We both look forward to getting to know you and the man you will become.”

Meanwhile Casey stirred and got even more emotional seeing Ethan holding and talking to baby Hudson.

“Hey Ethan.” She finally says. Ethan is shook from his reverie.

“Did I wake you sweetheart?”

“No, I woke up by myself.” Ethan gives Hudson to her.

“Hey Hudson, I am your mum. Welcome buddy. We already love you so much.” She holds him, looking at him. Ethan sitting beside Casey on the bed and looking longingly at his son. Unbeknownst to both of them Tobias had happened to walk by. He snapped a picture of the moment and sent it to Ethan.

“I never thought I would have seen either of you more in love than in this moment.” Is what he said.

When Ethan finally saw the message he couldn't agree more.

The next five days were a blur of visitors from their friends and Alan as well as Naveen. Casey’s parents were coming a week later which she was thankful for as she wanted some time with Ethan to get into a semblance of a routine. It was exhausting for both of them but neither could be happier that baby Hudson was now, finally in their lives.

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26 notes - Posted August 30, 2022

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[mintjeru]

happy chiluc thursday >:3c

chiluc week 2022 @chilucexchange

day 5 prompts: long-distance | angel/demon au challenge: include language/culture exchange

open for better quality | no reposts | ID under the cut

[Image description: A digital drawing of an angel Diluc and human Childe. Diluc descends, six wings spread behind him and hair billowing in the air. A golden halo floats around his head and a few more golden rings float behind it. A translucent veil covers his face. His entire outfit is stark white. He wears a tight-fitting jacket with a crossbody strap and a white collar. The cuffs of the shirt he wears underneath can be seen. He has a couple of rings on his hand. He also wears high-waisted pants with a belt and a strap around his thigh. The outfit is covered in burn marks. Childe grins fearlessly at Diluc. He wears a black shirt and a blue canvas jacket. The two are surrounded by bright fire.]

[unhealthyfanobsession]

Nessian prompt if you want it- trapped in an elevator meet cute or they’ve known each other for a while but being trapped forces them to bond

Every prompt is really just asking me to TORTURE Cassian but this one let me torture everyone so naturally I went with that first

EDIT - I AM AN IDIOT AND POSTED THIS STORY UNDER THE WRONG PROMPT. The prompt I am actually using here is now posted above on my page but it is: “Cassian reconnects with Nesta after she was widowed (they had a thing it ended badly bc Cass was a dick and Nesta married Eris and healed).”

The funeral had been over for some time, the stone erected with no body beneath it. Nesta sent everyone home, begging them for just a few moments of solitude. Minuets which quickly turned into hours with her legs gripped in her arms and dew soaking into her now spiked dress as she stared at the rock etched letters, still not quite believing it.

In the years to come she would deny it, but of all the footsteps traipsing through the cemetery on that clouded over but not rainy Thursday in September, Nesta heard his individually. Above the chatter of mourners and the din in her own mind … she heard him.

Felt the large presence behind her before the shadow cast itself over Eris’ stone. Her husband’s grave stone.

The good thing about never getting a body back from the US Government was that she had been allowed to postpone the wake as long as she wanted. Until she was able to breathe and walk and eat on her own. She was more glad of that than ever now. To let the man behind her see her broken … that would be her greatest weakness.

Nesta’a hands went white clutching the rings she tied to a chain around her neck as she waited for him to speak.

If she were more naive she would question how she knew so certainly who was standing over her, but in this moment it just seemed obvious that he was there.

“Are you here for him ... or me?”

“Why can’t it be both?” He asked, and she let his voice wash over her without turning around. Hating the part of herself that wanted to be comforted by that deep bass the way she once had been. She wanted to fall into the comfort he offered like it was a depthless ocean, but Cassian had always caused a drought without warning.

“I suppose you have known him longer than me,” she said, still staring forward.

“Eris and I were in active combat together.” Yes, all those years where Cassian didn’t write and Eris picked up a pen instead. This man she had never met but fell in love with on paper while her boyfriend ignored her. “We were like brothers for a time.” Until they got back and Nesta left him for Eris, that was. “It may not have been a long time, and we may have had our issues after, but... I wanted to say goodbye to my friend.”

Nesta choked on her own tongue, holding back the insults she wanted to hurl at him.

“When do you go back?” Arms crossed over her chest.

“I don’t.” Nesta whirled around at that. Startled to see Cassian in a perfectly fitted designer suit instead of his uniform. “Honourable discharge.”

“Why?” She scoffed, because she couldn’t hide her anger any other way. All the years she spent waiting for him to come home and now he decides -

“I’ve been running long enough.” Nesta’s breath caught in her throat. “I’ve been a coward long enough. I’ve … I’ve given up more than I ever even realized I had to lose in service of my country and now-”

“Don’t blame your service,” Nesta spat. She hadn’t realized how fresh those wounds still felt.

“I’m not blaming anything.” He looked down to the stone, swallowing hard, “or anyone. Not anymore. I know what I did. What I gave up. I know, Nes.”

She sucked a breath in through her teeth. “Do you really want to do this now, Cassian?”

“Did you have a better time in mind?”

Nesta levelled him with her gaze. “How about 7 years ago?” Cassian flinched, but did not waver. “How about when I was eighteen and in love and lost and so desperate I waited by the door for the mailman every morning? How about when I cried every night, terrified for the worst, convinced that you were dead because why else wouldn’t you write? What excuse could you possibly have?”

“Do you wish I had been dead?” Cassian shrugged one shoulder, “ I won’t blame you if you say yes.”

“No,” Nesta kept his gaze. “Because then I never would have met Eris.”

“He was good to you?” Cassian asked and Nesta wanted to claw his eyes out.

“He glued back every piece you shattered.”

“I told him once that he should let you go.”

“What?”

“You always deserved better than this.” Nesta glared. “Better than loving a soldier. You deserved to be with someone who comes home every night and doesn’t scream themselves awake. You deserve-“

“I deserve to make my own choices.”

Cassian nodded once, “I see that now. I was … I was an idiot.”

“You were. You are.” Nesta but her lip as tears began to well. She was so tired of holding them back. “But you are the only one who knew him like I did,” she whispered. There was comfort in that. In the man who served with her husband like a brother.

Cassian moved carefully, removing his jacket and draping it over her shoulders. She could tell he wanted to wrap an arm around her but was glad that he refrained.

“My husband is dead.” It was the first time she had said it out loud.

“I’m sorry.”

“I could really use a friend right now, Cassian.” His eyes lit up. “Not a man with an ulterior motive, not an ex, a friend. Another soul who loved him. Someone who …”

“Someone who would never ask you to smile or get out of bed if you don’t want to.”

Nesta nodded.

“I can do that,” Cassian said. “It’s the least I can do. For both of you.”

[snelbz]

Life As We Know It {Chapter Five}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Nesta’s time for mourning was up.

As she pulled into Elain’s driveway, reality set in. It would be her first day back at the restaurant since the accident, since her life was thrown completely upside down.

She wasn’t ready

But, she had no choice.

Elain was already smiling when she opened the door, reaching out to take Nyx. “Hi, my baby! Aunt Lainy and Seph are so excited to spend the day with you, yes we are.”

“I’m glad, because Aunt Nesta isn’t so excited to not be spending the day with him,” she said, sighing.

Elain gave her sister a wistful look. “I get that. How about Cass, how did he feel going back to work last night?”

Nesta snorted. “Don’t know. He never came back. They started inventory around two this morning after last call, according to the short text I woke up to. He says he’ll be there for most of the day.”

Elain lifted a brow. “Wow.”

Nesta blinked. “He’s a bartender, what do you expect?”

“No,” Elain chuckled. “I meant: wow, looks like you two are actually communicating. I’m shocked.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “We’ve been living together for three days. If we weren’t communicating, what exactly would we be doing instead?”

Elain carried Nyx into the living room, sitting him down in the playpen she’d set up in the corner. “I mean, honestly, Az and I just figured you were pretending each other didn’t exist.”

For all intents and purposes, they had been, but they had made sure to talk about important things. Like whether Nyx had been fed, when he needed to go down for his nap and what the schedule for the next day would look like.

To be totally honest, she hadn’t even realized Cassian had her number until she’d woken up to a text from one she didn’t have saved in her phone.

“We’re…adjusting,” she finally said, watching as Nyx crawled over to the pile of toys in the corner of the playpen. “I gave him a bath last night, and he said he would handle the next one, since he had to go to work. But… Gods, Elain, giving a one-year-old a bath is exhausting. I looked like I’d just left the pool, not to mention the entire bathroom was soaked.”

Elain chuckled and shook her head. “Seph loves baths, but we’re still having them in the sink right now. She’s not quite ready for the bathtub yet.”

The baby in question was asleep in a bouncer, resting on the floor by the couch.

Nesta glanced at her watch, whatever reply she had falling from her lips. “Shit, I have to go, I’ll be late.”

“Go,” Elain said, wrapping her sister up in a hug. “The day will fly by and you’ll be home with Nyx before you know it.”

Nesta nodded, even though her core was filled with dread.

Nonetheless, she was across town in fifteen minutes, hurrying into the café just before nine. She tossed her purse behind her desk after she unlocked the door to her office and looked around, only to find everything exactly where she had left it.

With a sigh, she pulled a bottle of water out of her mini-fridge, only to find it completely warm. They must have unplugged it when they were cleaning. It wouldn’t be the first time.

She didn’t have time to think on it too much, though, because there was a knock on her office door, her manager’s voice calling her name through the wood.

Her first day back had officially begun.

*

Cassian was exhausted.

For the past couple hours, he felt like he was lost somewhere in a dream. Now, as he continued to stare at the shelves of liquor in the back room, he debated curling up in the corner and falling asleep.

He’d messed up so many drink orders the night before, worrying about whether Nyx was okay or if Nesta had forgotten to do anything for him. He knew Nesta was perfectly capable of taking care of Nyx, had been doing so since Rhys and Feyre had died. But he still worried about him constantly.

He yawned as he shoved a box of tequila up onto the top shelf, turning to see how much was left.

Only to find the store room empty of boxes. He let over a relieved sigh, pulling out his phone.

10:37

He knew the opener would be in at eleven, a shift that was usually his, but as the manager, he preferred to ensure inventory was done correctly, and with such a big shipment, thanks to his unexpected time off, he told them he would work the night before.

His feet damn near shuffling across the floor, he made his way into the office and sat down at the desk, to wait for Kallias. He didn’t see a reason to lock the place up when Kal would be here five minutes later to start setting up.

He didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he heard a knocking on the office door and sat up quickly, his feet falling from where he’d propped them on top of the desk.

Cassian found Kallias standing in the doorway, a small smirk on his lips. “Baby keeping you up at night already?”

He yawned, dragging a hand down his face. “No. Well, sometimes, but not this time. Didn’t finish inventory until about fifteen minutes ago.”

Kallias whistled. “Damn. You should’ve called. I would’ve come help.” Cassian shrugged. “No use having both of us exhausted.”

Kallias just shook his head. “If you say so. Go home, Cass. Get some sleep. I’ve got everything under control.”

Cassian didn’t need to be told twice. He stood, clapped Kallias on the shoulder, and walked out to the parking lot. After hopping into his truck, Cassian dozed off.

And six hours later, he woke up, his head against his steering wall, his neck hurting like hell, and his chin glistening with his slobber.

It wasn’t an attractive sight.

After a curse, he looked at the clock on the dash, and swore again.

It was just after five.

The truck was in gear and he was speeding home seconds later. When he rounded the corner, Nesta’s car was already in the driveway.

He parked beside her, hopping out and hurrying to the back door. When he threw it open, he found her standing at the stove, stirring something in a pan. It smelled delicious.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, collapsing in the nearest chair at the kitchen table, his head dropped into his hands in exhaustion. Even after his impromptu nap in the truck, he still felt like he needed another eight hours sleep. “Inventory took way longer than usual and then I passed out in the truck.” He shook his head, letting his obvious exhaustion explain the rest to her.

“It’s fine.”

He looked up and glanced at her stiff back. She hadn’t turned back to look at him, was completely focused on whatever she cooked on the stove.

Her tone said it absolutely was not fine.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but I’d been awake for over twenty-six hours.”

“Elain had to reschedule a shoot with a client tonight. She was expecting you to come pick up Nyx after you got off and got some sleep.”

He cringed. Nesta had texted him around ten, while he was still focused on inventory, asking him to get Nyx from Elain before three. He didn’t ask why, had honestly forgotten she’d even texted him.

“I’ll call her later, I’ll apologize,” he sighed.

Nesta turned abruptly and tossed the towel she was using to hold the warm handle on the counter. She was pissed, he’d seen that look in her eyes more than once. “I get that you worked and you were tired, but you have to be more responsible, Cassian.”

“I said I was fucking sorry,” he said, standing. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep in my truck, but I did. I’m fucking sorry.”

She rolled her eyes, but turned back to the stove.

Cassian scoffed, and was nearly ready to bite her head off, but then Nyx’s soft cries came from the living room.

“He fell asleep in the pack and play,” Nesta said, continuing to stir what she had on the stove.

Cassian took that as his dismissal. He hurried into the living room and picked up Nyx, who was standing up in his pack and play, gripping the edge. When he saw Cassian, his hands shot straight in the air.

“Hey buddy,” he said, quietly, as he lifted Nyx out of his pack and play. Nyx instantly relaxed in his arms, laying his head on Cassian’s shoulder.

“He’s probably hungry,” Nesta said, as the boys made their way back into the kitchen.

“I’m aware,” Cassian snapped.

Nesta’s shoulders tensed.

Cassian said nothing more as he opened the fridge and took out some leftover mashed potatoes, Nyx’s favorite.

“He should have some kind of protein with that,” Nesta said, her back still to them.

Cassian spun around, exasperated. “Shit, anything else you’d like to add?”

She said nothing, pretending he didn’t even speak. Cassian didn’t say anything else, but he fixed him a bottle, and set Nyx in his high chair. As Cassian shook it, Nyx held out his hands, reaching for it. He gave it to him, turning to the microwave to heat up the potatoes.

He heard plates being set down at the table and found Nesta setting two plates full of stir fry on the table.

He hesitated, but moved Nyx’s high chair closer to the table. He took the already empty bottle from him and got a small spoonful of potatoes for him. He quietly said, “You didn’t need to cook for me,” as he fed Nyx.

“I made too much,” she replied, simply, sitting across from him. She didn’t meet his eyes as she took a bite.

He watched as her eyelashes fluttered in satisfaction.

As Nyx grabbed his bowl from the end of his high chair and stuck his face into it, Cassian looked down at his own plate, at the steak, broccoli, peppers, peeled carrots, and snap peas that sat before him.

It smelled delicious.

He hesitantly took a bite as Nyx clapped his hands and began to babble.

“Afraid I may poison you?” Nesta asked.

Cassian blinked, meeting her eyes. They remained like that for a moment, staring at one another, then Cassian took another bite. “It’s good. Thanks.”

“I made too much,” she repeated. “Cut Nyx up some of the steak. It’s tender enough for him to eat, just make sure the pieces are tiny. The broccoli, too. He likes broccoli.”

Cassian did as he was told without a word. He set the food in front of Nyx, who instantly had his chubby little hands on them.

“Don’t think I’ll be cooking every night,” Nesta said, in the middle of their otherwise silent meal.

“I wouldn’t think of it,” Cassian said, then cleared his throat. “I can cook sometimes, too. I’m not bad in the kitchen.” A look crossed Nesta’s face that said she didn’t quite believe that statement.

“I make a mean breakfast,” he said, after chewing through another bite. “I’ll show you. We’ll do breakfast for dinner one night.”

Nesta nodded, but Cassian couldn’t tell if that was confirmation or just agreeing to shut him up. After a minute, she set down her fork and cleared her throat. “Speaking of breakfast, I’d prefer to not share the table with any friends you may bring home.”

Cassian’s brows lowered, not fully understanding. And then what she was saying clicked and he was coughing around the bite of food he’d been swallowing. He drank from the glass of water he’d grabbed, and cleared his throat, ensuring he could breathe. “I don’t see how that’s any of your concern.”

“If I live here, it is my concern,” she said, going right back to eating, as if she hadn’t just brought up an extremely unexpected topic. “I don’t want Nyx to see a revolving door of women leaving either, he doesn’t need to get the wrong idea.”

Cassian could only stare at her, though when Nyx heard his name, he paused his eating to look up at her. He finally said, “He’s one, first of all, so he has no idea what that would even mean, and secondly, I can have whoever the hell I want here, and they can stay for breakfast. I live here, too.”

“Would you care to see an endless string of men coming out of my bedroom every morning?” Nesta asked, her tone light, but her eyes full of hellfire.

Cassian’s chewing slowed. No, he wouldn’t care to see that, but he’d never admit it. He wasn’t even one to bring women home...well, at least not often, but apparently she thought of him as some unhinged casanova.

“As long as you ask me to join, I don’t care who you bring home,” Cassian said.

Now it was Nesta’s turn to choke on the bite of steak she just took. Her cheeks turned a bright shade of red as her eyes watered. After catching her breath and taking a long drink of water, she said, “That’s inappropriate.”

Nyx giggled, his lips covered in mashed potatoes, as if Nesta had just said the most hilarious thing in the world.

He took one last bite of his food before standing and carrying his plate over to the sink. “You don’t bring up my sex life and I won’t bring up yours. Deal?”

“Fine,” she said, picking up her plate as well and dropping it next to his on the counter. “You take care of the dishes, I’ll give Nyx his bath.”

“Fine.” That seemed to be their word to end conversations, as most of them ended with one of them snapping the word at the other, and it being repeated right back to them.

He wanted to fling more insults at her, wanted to snap that he wasn’t the man-whore she apparently thought he was. He never had been, despite the obscene amount of those stupid condoms she’d seen in his glove box all those years ago. But he knew she wouldn’t believe him.

He heard her unclipping Nyx’s high chair and then she was carrying him upstairs. Cassian was already wrist deep in soapy water when he heard the bathtub running from upstairs.

It was then that he realized he had originally told Nesta that he would give Nyx a bath tonight.

He didn’t pick him up from Elain’s.

He didn’t give him a bath like he said he would.

Maybe Nesta was right.

Maybe he was just setting himself up for failure.

As he scrubbed at the dishes, Cassian felt that sense of failure wash over him and sent a thought to Rhysand, wherever he was, hoping that his oldest friend wasn’t as disappointed in him as he was.

[alondradina]

Domaystic day 21!

Prompt: Staycation

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Solas/Ellana, Solas/Lavellan, Solavallen

Rating: G

Modern day AU

-

Ellana knew well before Solas that they weren't going out of town that weekend. That was because she decided it Thursday night, when he came home from work and immediately dropped face down into the couch without even taking his shoes off.

"Rough day?" She asked after a moment. There was no response. Glad that she had ordered food earlier, Ellana left the cartons on the island and approached her boyfriend.

Grabbing a foot, she pulled a shoe off without untying it. Solas grumbled and toed the other one off. He sighed and sat up when she went after his socks, though, taking care of them on his own before flopping on his back this time.

Ellana picked them up and put the shoes and socks in their appropriate places. Seeing that he still hadn't moved, she started dishing out their dinner and brought it to the coffee table.

"This isn't where we eat."

"Well, this is where you're at, and you need to eat, so here's the food," Ellana said with a shrug. "If you don't like it, then get up and we'll eat at the table."

Solas groaned and slowly sat up, wincing and rubbing his neck. She hadn't seen him since the night before. He had still been working in his office when she finally gave up and went to bed, and had left before she woke up in the morning.

He had bags under his eyes and a seemingly permanent furrow in his brow. Ellana could tell that he was truly exhausted, though, when he gave in and started eating where he was instead of insisting on the table.

She put the back of her hand to his brow, which he smacked away in an uncharacteristic show of irritation. "I am not sick; just tired."

"Well, alright then," she said, doing her best to not be offended.

Nothing else was said while they ate. Towards the end his eyes started drooping shut, and he set his plate and fork on the coffee table before leaning back into the couch. He fell asleep shortly after, leaving Ellana to clean everything up with only his soft snores as company.

After some debate, she placed a spare blanket, a nice one that they had recently purchased, on him before going to bed on her own.

She woke the next morning to warm puffs of air on her ear and an arm slung over her stomach. Sighing happily, she pressed closer to him and giggled when Solas burrowed his nose into her hair.

"What time is it?" He rasped.

Ellana lifted her head and looked at the clock. "It's quarter 'til seven."

Groaning, he rolled away from her and started sitting up. "We are supposed to leave in fifteen minutes."

"We're not going anywhere."

"We are going to the reserve, Ellana. I promised you we would, and we will."

"I'll take a raincheck. We're not going anywhere."

Solas finally turned around to glower at her. "I promised-"

"I know you promised," she interrupted, rolling her eyes at his frown, "but you are a mess. We're just gonna hang out at home. Do the whole 'staycation' thing."

"Do what?" He asked tiredly, laying back down and rubbing his eyes.

She rolled closer and draped an arm and leg over him. "Staycation. We'll take a break from life and just chill out here. No work, no socializing; just the two of us doing whatever we want."

"But-"

"No buts. Set in stone, that's what we're doing." Ellana paused to yawn, and then sat up enough to kiss his cheek before lying back down. "Now go to sleep. I refuse to get out of bed until ten at the earliest."

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38724966/chapters/97932138

[welcometocrapvale]

Surrounded by love

I’m a day late for every prompt xD I have tomorrow’s ready, so maybe I will be able to catch up. @thepassifloradiscord Soft tummy week day 2 prompt "Lazy morning"

Summary: After a rough week, the family has breakfast in bed. Ciri tells her unborn sibling how loved they are.

The fic is also on ao3. 

Geralt had been having a rough week. He was feeling tired, his chest was tender and aching, and the morning sickness was worse than when he had been carrying Ciri. Jaskier was being a darling, waking up earlier to get their four year old ready for daycare and preparing breakfasts and lunches so Geralt could get a few more minutes in bed before having to get ready for work. 

Jaskier was also being a darling by not drinking coffee in the house so Geralt wouldn't suffer by smelling it and not being able to have it. They swapped their usual morning coffee for strawberry milk, Geralt’s first craving for this pregnancy. Ciri was loving the pink colored milk, being more excited than before about eating in the morning. 

The week dragged on, seeming to have more than seven days by a series of mishaps piling on to their usual daily chaos. On Tuesday morning, the faucet of their kitchen sink broke, spraying water everywhere and causing Jaskier to be late for work. On Wednesday, Ciri had been accidentally hit with a toy by another kid, resulting in a cut on her lip that had Jaskier picking her up from daycare shortly after lunch so he could take her to the ER and have her bleeding lip checked. Later that same day, Geralt had to sit with the director of the daycare and the parents of the child that hit Ciri so they could apologize. Thursday evening, Ciri fed a piece of avocado to their dog, Roach, and Geralt had to rush her to the veterinary emergency clinic to make sure she would be okay. 

By Friday night Geralt and Jaskier were exhausted. They ordered takeout, and after having dinner, they watched Ciri’s most recent movie obsession, Encanto. Geralt had not watched it yet, and Jaskier liked it enough that it wasn’t a problem for him to watch it again. He enjoyed the songs and was trying to get some simplified chords down so he could teach them to his younger students at the music school. 

Geralt and Ciri fell asleep at some point during the movie. Ciri had been sitting between them, and now she was laying on their laps, with her head on Geralt’s and her feet on Jaskier’s. Geralt had his head on Jaskier’s shoulder and was drooling over his shirt. He shouldn’t find this endearing, but it made him feel warm and full of love for the man. 

He finished watching the movie and woke them up. 

“Time to get to bed, loves,” he whispered as he gently stroked Ciri’s back.

Geralt hummed and sat straight, yawning. Ciri made some affronted sounds and tried to hug Geralt’s leg so they wouldn’t move her. 

“Come on, princess, time to brush your teeth and get to bed,” Geralt said softly. 

Ciri rubbed her eyes and rolled her legs down, kneeling on the floor. Geralt stood up and then crouched next to her, offering her his hand. The girl took it, and they walked hand in hand to the bathroom.

While Geralt put Ciri to bed, Jaskier went to check on Roach. He took her for a short bathroom walk and then made sure she had enough water in her bowl. When he got to bed, Geralt was already sound asleep. 

Jaskier was the first to wake up the next morning. He prepared blueberry pancakes, turkey bacon, and scrambled eggs. He cut Ciri’s pancakes into small pieces and put everything on a tray to take to bed. When he got to their room, Geralt was sitting, propped up with some pillows, and Ciri was climbing into bed. 

“Good morning, loves,” he greeted them, smiling widely.

“Good morning, daddy,” Ciri replied. 

“That looks amazing, Jask,” Geralt said, helping Ciri get comfortable next to him. 

 “I’m glad you think so! How is the morning sickness?”

“Still there, but the smell of those pancakes is making me hungry.”

Jaskier beamed a smile at him and gave him the tray. Geralt took it and placed it over his legs.

Jaskier sat crosslegged on the bed, facing Geralt and Ciri, and they had their breakfast while the girl told them about a book they had read at daycare the previous day. 

When they were done eating, Jaskier took the plates to the kitchen and left them to deal with later, wanting to get back in bed with Geralt and Ciri. 

He found Ciri sitting on Geralt’s lap, lifting his shirt to reveal his rounding stomach. He was entering week 13 of pregnancy, just starting to show up. 

Jaskier stood by the door, not wanting to disturb the scene. 

Geralt helped Ciri lift his shirt, wrinkling it up and holding it just below his chest. Ciri put both her hands on Geralt’s stomach. 

“Hi baby,” she said, slightly leaning in and moving her hands around, caressing Geralt’s belly. “Please stop making dada feel sick, okay? He loves us very much, so we have to be good for him.”

Geralt looked beautiful. His eyes were shining, and he had a fond smile on his lips. Jaskier’s own smile was wide, showing his teeth. 

Jaskier moved to sit next to his husband and daughter, and as he did, Ciri rested her head on Geralt’s stomach. 

“I love you too, baby,” she said and stayed in that position, hugging Geralt’s hips with her tiny arms. 

“And we love you, princess,” Jaskier said and ran his fingers through Ciri’s curls. 

They spent the morning in bed, with Ciri telling the baby about the adventures she had with her friends at daycare and about how much their parents loved her, promising them they would love them just as much. 

[insomniumstella]

An angsty prompt of roommate!bucky? Like just imagine you’re two idiots who are mutual pinning after each other, but obviously y’all don’t know that you’re in love. I might need some angst there....🥺👉👈

bucky x reader

warnings: some adult themes, a bit of angst, can’t think of any others

word count: 3,279

Monday

Their usually empty apartment is scattered with people tonight, soft sounds of music and chatter in the background.

“You didn’t tell me Barnes’s new girlfriend would be here.” Wanda and y/n are preparing drinks in the kitchen, because who wants to only drink straight vodka or beer. Other duties, such as setting up food in the living room were left to the remaining Avengers, and y/n sincerely hopes they can handle it because last time Sam tried opening a bag of chips he spilled them everywhere.

“She’s not his girlfriend.” She raises an eyebrow, finishing each Mojito with a sprig of mint “Besides, he forgot to tell me.” I do not have feelings for Bucky Barnes, she thinks after noticing Wanda’s apologetic look.

“Of course you don’t” She replies sarcastically, almost singing ‘of course’ for emphasis. Surprisingly the living room looks neat and peaceful when they come back, people sitting on every free space they were able to find, floor including.

“Might have to get you and Barnes a bigger apartment because this shoebox isn’t cutting it.” y/n dismisses Tony’s comment because this apartment is often empty anyways due to frequent missions. Still, it’s cozy; when Bucky suggested they live together, because it’s totally normal for two friends to do so, even if they can get separate places, y/n took up the decorating. While it was not necessarily fancy, multiple fairy lights, and about a million photos made the place feel inviting and safe. Bucky would agree too, having spent hours on the worn out couches, whether it was drinking with the boys or reading, something he recently took up. Steve removes his hand from the couch’s arm rest and nods his head as if saying come sit here, which y/n does, cozying up half on the arm rest, half against Steve’s body. He’s nursing a beer, and smiles at her when she finally settles.

“Truth or drink?” Natasha suggests, taking a shot of vodka straight from the bottle, using her Mojito as a chaser. Y/n turns her head to look at Bucky, whose eyes are burning holes in the side of her head, snickering when she turns her gaze to his new girl and notices her disgusted expression. Yeah, it’ll take her a while to get used to us. Sam’s up first to ask questions. He snatches the bottle out of Natasha’s hands, passing it to Tony, and thinks for a minute before asking  “Have you ever been in an orgy?”

“That’s one way to start the game.” Tony laughs before taking a shot. He doesn’t have to answer for others to know. “My sweet Natasha, who here do you think is packing the most?”

Somehow she has managed to find and open a bottle of tequila; it’s been a rough week for her. Taking a shot “Steve.” She answers. “Steve, when was the last time you had sex?”

“Do all of these have to be sexual?” He’s blushing hard; talking about things of this nature is still weird and uncomfortable for him, but so’s drinking hard liquor. “Two days ago.” There’s oohs and ahh’s filling the room, and y/n takes notice of how Steve leans into her, almost as if to escape people’s eyes on him.

“C’mon guys, Steve’s right, at least let’s ease into the sexual questions. Hey Bucky, who do you think is the sexiest person here?” That’s a good way for him to include his new girl more, y/n thinks, but to her surprise, Bucky’s taking the bottle of vodka from Tony and taking a shot. The teasing stares from Wanda, y/n tries ignoring for the rest of the game.

Tuesday

“Who do you think is it?” Natasha is still wandering about last night when Bucky decided to take a shot instead of answering who’s the sexiest. For a spy, she’s surprisingly unaware. It’s just the girls at the apartment, because y/n invited them over after James announced he’s going a date. It worked out kind of perfectly; girls nights are very important, yet neither of them can remember when was the last time it happened. Thanking the delivery guy and coming back into the living room with a pizza, y/n turns to Natasha.

“I think the real question is what made you think Steve’s packing the most, when our team has a literal God?” A deep crimson colour paints Natasha’s cheeks. She’s hangover from last night, so it’s one of the rare times anyone ever sees her blushing. y/n knows she’s got her; two days ago, after a mission gone wrong, she decided to sleep at the compound, and guess who was sneaking out of Steve’s room in the middle of the night? As the sun sets, the conversations get more open, and wine bottles, one by one, disappear from the fridge. It’s about 1am when Bucky comes home to find a messy apartment and his girl sleeping on the couch; Natasha and Wanda somehow managed to drunkenly call a taxi back to the compound. Not my girl, he corrects himself after the thought accidentally crosses his mind, I have a different girl, he thinks.

“You’re home.” y/n slurs, reaching her arms out to hug him.

“I’m home.” He chuckles, leaning down to pick her up, bridal style.

“Did you have fun?”

“Not as much as you, apparently.” He answers, walking up to her bedroom door, opening it, and gently places her on the bed. “You’ll have a lot to clean up tomorrow.” This is not true. Bucky Barnes will clean it up himself, the way y/n does after he has one too many. “Goodnight sleeping beauty.” And with a kiss on her forehead she’s out. Not my girl.

Wednesday

Winding down after a long day is one of life’s most simple pleasures, and with Halloween right around the corner, a spooky movie marathon was bound to happen.

“Beetlejuice or Hocus Pocus?”

“Neither of these names mean something to me?” Bucky’s answer sounds more like a question. Of course he wouldn’t know the names of the two classics, yes, life really has been rough on him, y/n thinks. She’s sitting on the couch with a bag of popcorn, legs comfortably placed on the coffee table, when Bucky comes out of the kitchen and puts their drinks down. “Also, you drink too much.” He points out her wine obsession.

Leaning her head on his shoulder after he sits down “You talk too much.” She answers. It feels weird to sit so close when he’s seeing someone, but hey, this is Bucky, the guy, she’s been living with and crushing on for months, she might as well enjoy this while she can. Besides he’s acting casual about it. Not, he’s not casual about it. From the inside at least, because yes, Bucky looks completely calm, reaching down to her lap to grab some popcorn from time to time, but his heart is skipping beats a little too much for his liking.

Maybe next time Steve’s staring at her with those love-filled eyes, I should just tell them to get a room? Bucky considers, this is too hard and at least that way, I won’t see her as much. He’s so still she wonders if he fell asleep, but the turning of his head assures he didn’t. His lips form a smile and she smiles back. I wish Bucky liked me back, like how Steve likes Natasha, y/n thinks to herself, they’re so cute together.

“I don’t like this Beetlejuice guy or whatever he is.”

“I think he’s charming in a way.” y/n lifts her legs from the table and places them over Bucky’s, so she’s sideways and looks up at him.

“You’re charming in a way.”

“Oh sergeant, thank you.”

“Said no one, ever.” Y/n laughs and playfully hits him with one of the many decorative pillows they have placed on the couch.

“You love me, Bucky Barnes.”

Oh you have no idea. That he doesn’t say.

Thursday

8am

Knife, gun, extra ammo; yes, pretty much everything she’d need she has on her. 

“Don’t die out there, pretty lady.”

“Okay, Birdman, shut it.” y/n teases as they both walk up to where Bucky’s standing. “This mission is like a piece of cake, right Buck?” But he doesn’t answer, lost somewhere in his own thoughts, face painted in worry. “You alright?” She asks when Sam goes to check on Cap, placing her hand on his shoulder. “This is an easy task.”

“It’s not the mission I’m thinking about.” He shrugs, but there’s no time for her to answer, because Steve is already opening the quinjet door, shouting at them to prepare for jumping.

8pm

“You’ve been quiet all day. If there’s anything, no matter how small, you know you can talk to me.” They’ve been hiding in some random bushes, the apparently quick and easy mission turning into something no one expected.

“Do you like Steve?” Bucky’s face is completely serious, no teasing eyes, no toothy grin he usually has when talking about guys with her.

“Of course I like Steve.” Like a brother or a friend. “This is what’s been bothering you?” y/n laughs, because it’s funny, surely he must know she likes Steve, otherwise why would they spend so much time together.

Yes, that’s what’s been bothering me. “No, just something that I thought of right now.” He manages to smile, but it’s the fakest smile y/n has seen on him yet. “Did you ask him?”

“Yeah.” y/n scrambles to get her phone out of her suit pocket. Of course she texted Steve, asking if they can pack up and go home already as the suspect they were after has not shown up all day.

“Cool.” It’s cool she asked him if he liked her back, James thinks, it’s for the better, “What’d he say?”

Unlocking it, y/n opens up the text messages app “He said yes, we should head back to the jet.”

Looks like they might be going on a first date tonight, Bucky takes a deep breath, that’s good, right?

Friday

Whatever has been bothering Bucky all day yesterday, y/n’s glad is gone. He walks into the meeting holding two trays of coffee, passing them out to those attending.

“Good morning.” He smiles at her, after sitting down and turns his head to look at Steve, who’s standing at the end of the table, ready to start the meeting. His hair is messy and he looks peaceful, a little too peaceful, considering last night’s failed mission. y/n laughs.

“Something you can say to all of us?” She shakes her head and they both share a look which makes Steve’s cheeks turn pink.

“Nothing, Captain.” They both know y/n is mocking him and Natasha, after overhearing her scream the word over and over in the gym’s locker room; the screams clearly cause by pleasure of them going at it.

Bucky shifts in his seat uncomfortably and speaks up “I think we should start, as me and Sam don’t have all day, right Sam?” Whatever Sam’s caught in the middle of, he’s not a fan.

“Actually, I’m not that busy to-“ He’s cut off by James.

“Well, I have a date so start talking lover boy.” He says casually, his words filling the room with an awkward silence, before Steve goes over the plan for their next mission.

Saturday

“Are you sure you don’t mind if a couple of my old college friend come over today?”

Every free Saturday they like to go grocery shopping together. Bucky’s attitude is much better than it was in the meeting yesterday, which is good, except y/n keeps sourly wondering if the reason for that is the date he had.

He picks up a carton of eggs “I’m eggcited!” And places them in the cart. “Butter than ever.” Bucky says putting butter in there too. They’re at a different aisle when y/n notices him reaching for a jar of jelly.

“Don’t you dare-“

“Just don’t be jelly if they’ll give me more attention than they’ll give you.” He laughs.

“I should have never used a single pun in the grocery store around you. Hey, mango annoy someone else.” y/n laughs back, pointing at the fruit. She drags him away before he can grab the olives and say you know olive you.

There’s not much time left to set everything up when they get back, but as Bucky once called them, they’re a super duo. Y/n’s reaching for the wine glasses when the doorbell rings, and before she can make her way to the door, Bucky’s already answering. If he wasn’t into y/n so much, and if he didn’t have a girlfriend, he’d definitely go for her friends, he thinks and scolds himself right after.

“So you must the boyfriend y/n has been telling us so much about?” Wait, this is confusing.

“I’m n-“ Y/n quickly interrupts him.

“Yes! Guys, meet James, a man who is very much real, and very much my boyfriend, right?” Her hand wraps around his waist and she’s looking up at him with the act along or I’ll kill you kind of eyes. This is going to be fun.

“Yes ladies, please come in, it’s nice to meet you.” He gives them his signature smile, and as they pile into the living room, y/n pulls him aside to whisper “They can’t know I’m single.” Maybe if he wasn’t so excited about pretending to be her boyfriend, he would have heard the fact, y/n is not dating Steve.

The evening is hard to describe, because yes, the girls somewhat miss each other, however y/n can’t help, but notice the jabs they take at her for being an Avenger, and their wondering eyes at Bucky. He, on the other hand, is doing a great, too great, of a job at being her boyfriend. Anything she needs, he get up to get her, his arm tightly wrapped around her waist, before he’s pulling her onto his lap completely and to top it all, the language he’s been using is driving y/n crazy. She knows he’s enjoying this very much, but the phrases like would you like some more wine, darling? or is my baby comfortable on my lap? are affecting her more than she’d admit.

“So tell us, y/n, how did you score a man like this? I mean the constant fighting you’re doing can’t be good for that body. Does it look like a cutting board underneath the clothes?” Okay, maybe Natasha was right about them being bitches the first and the only time she met them.

“Believe me, everything is smooth and tight there.” Bucky winks, hands resting on top of her thighs; that evening he tries to say the most provocative words to keep her busy from noticing the thick bulge forming in his pants. She’s so busy at enjoying their jealous faces, it works.

Sunday

It was the most beautiful morning October in New York had to offer yet. Last night was a lot; maybe it’s time y/n reconsiders finding new friends, because to say that was exhausting is underestimating. It’s almost like y/n is on autopilot, letting her feet take her wherever they want. For better or worse, she ends up at Bucky’s favourite breakfast spot, noticing him and his girlfriend through the window. She’s mad, stuffing her things into her purse, and storming out of here, yet James is weirdly unbothered, slowly sipping his coffee; he waves his hand at her to join him when he notices y/n outside. A big plate of waffles is bound to make anyone’s morning better; they don’t talk while they eat. It’s only when the waitress refills both of their coffee mugs that y/n speaks up. “So what happened?”

“Told her this was never going to work out.”

“I’m sorry.” She’s really not. This is one of the best thing to happen all week, and besides Bucky doesn’t look sad, so it’s not bad to feel happy about it, right? He doesn’t answer her. When the waitress comes up with their check, he quickly snatches it, so y/n doesn’t have an opportunity to pay, and they both put on their jackets before leaving.

“Would you mind if we go to the Central Park for a bit? I know we have to get to the compound by 12pm, but-“

“Yes, why not, I’m sure Steve won’t get mad.” Bucky forces a smile, he won’t because you’re dating? He thinks. This is y/n he’s thinking about, so why is it so hard to just straight up ask if she’s dating Steve or not. Could it be the fact, he’s too scared to heard the words, I am? Bucky doesn’t recognise where they’re going; y/n moves through many parts of Central Park before arriving at an area he’s never seen or been in before. It’s very secluded, but how has he never been there before still blows his mind. “I love the view here.”

“Me too.” Bucky isn’t talking about the park.

“Look, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night, I should have told you, that they thought you were my boyfriend. I shouldn’t have been so scared to admit, that yes, I’m single, so what?” Wait what?

“What do you mean single?”

“Single, as in no boyfriend? Bucky, do you not know what single means?” y/n laughed. Oh, Bucky knew very well what that meant.

“So you’re not dating Steve?” He wanted to punch himself so hard at this very moment. What other parts of this has he missed, in fact, it totally wouldn’t of made sense for her to pretend Bucky was her boyfriend if she was dating Steve.

“No, I mean he is very attractive, but I don’t li-“ y/n turned her head to look at Bucky “why would you think I was dating Steve?” This was very confusing, however she couldn’t get excited just yet, so what that he thought she was dating Steve? It does not mean that’s the reason he never made a move on her; perhaps he didn’t even like her.

“The way you’re always touching, the looks you exchange. He’s practically undressing you with his eyes.”

“James, Steve is dating Natasha. Why else would she say she thought he was packing the most? Surely, she’s seen it.” They sat down on the only bench near by, y/n bringing her knee up to her chest out of nervousness. “Who do you think was the sexiest person in the room that night?” Bucky was avoiding her eyes.

“You.” Be a man James Barnes. “You’ve been the sexiest person in the room ever since we met.” He thought for a moment “That sounded better in my head, but you know what I mean.” Standing up, y/n pulls Bucky up with her; nerves always make her fidgety.

“Bucky, I like you.” He looks like he’s about to say something but y/n continues “I liked you being my fake boyfriend more than I should have.”

“To be honest, I was doing more than a fake boyfriend should have.” He chuckles. Taking his phone out of his jean pocket, Bucky dismisses Steve’s call, because whatever it is, can wait. “I like you too.” A comfortable silence falls between them, Bucky’s hands resting on y/n’s waist. In truth, the whole moment lasts about a couple seconds, but it feels like a lifetime to them both. Brushing the hair behind her ear, Bucky leans down and connects their lips together. It’s something worth waiting for; passionate, intense, and y/n cannot wait to run her hands through Bucky’s hair to bring him closer. “Perhaps next time they come visit, I’ll be your real boyfriend?” She does; lightly grabbing his hair she brings him closer.

“Perhaps you will.”

[writtenonreceipts]

I saw this prompt for feysand and i would love to see your take on it - I get stuck with a late class that doesn’t end until 9pm and I’m always anxious about walking across the campus to the dorms, so you offer to walk with me and one night, I find out that it’s in the exact opposite direction that you need to go in

I've really been enjoying your writing!!❤

AN: I took it and ran, and ran, and kept running.  Thank-you so, SO much for sending it my way!  This was a great prompt that had fun with.  I’m glad you’ve been liking my stuff, it means a lot! ~5.5kwords

TW: Brief talk about death, anxiety, depression, fear.

 Worth It

Seated at a canvas with paints or pencils in hand, Feyre was unstoppable.  She could create landscapes with ease or depict a simple still life and turn it into something far greater.  Art was where she lived.

Not in a basement classroom learning about Prythian history.  

There wasn’t anything wrong with history, especially when it was as rich and vibrant as Prythia.  But talking about wars, treaties, and assassinations could only be discussed for so long.

Of course, it didn’t help that Feyre was dyslexic, but she didn’t talk about that.

She glanced around the room, trying to see if anyone else was as bored as she was.  It was the first day of class and she was the only one not taking extensive notes.  Well, she and a guy at the front of the room.  All Feyre could see was the back of his head.  His hair was dark as midnight and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up as he sat at his desk.  He didn’t even have a textbook with him.

Feyre forced herself to pay attention as the Professor finally shut down the slide show presentation.

“Make sure you look of the syllabus,” Dr. Wesson addressed the class.  She was a small woman with rich brown hair and a plain green dress.  “It outlines the schedule of tests and essays.  None of the dates will be altered.  My TA will be at your disposal.” 

Dr. Wesson nodded to the guy with the black hair and gestured for him to stand up.

And just like that, the class was the most fascinating thing in the world. 

He was tall, taller than he’d originally appeared.  His warmly tanned skin made his violet blue eyes bright and eager.  A sly sort of smile traced his mouth as he observed the class.

“Call me Rhysand,” he said, “I’m working on my masters specifically in the historical aspect of how literature was shaped by wars in the land.  I’m always glad to help with your questions.  Just make sure you email me to set something up.”

The girls next to Feyre whispered to each other, exchanging significant looks.  Feyre exchanged a significant look with the amount of reading and writing that was required.

Hell.  It was going to be a long semester.

The class dismissed right at nine o’clock, much to Feyre’s relief.  While most of the students flocked to the front of the room to either gawk at the TA or further discuss issues with the Professor, Feyre left the class.  Already she could feel her dread pooling into anxiety.  Her heart rate quickened and the muscles in her left hand twitched.  

She just needed to get home and sit down with a canvas and paint.

As soon as she made it outside the Humanities Building however, the dread continued to tug at Feyre.  It was far too dark.  With far fewer lights than she’d expected for a college campus.  Or maybe it was because there was a thick layer of clouds sagging down and threatening rain.  

“Feyre!” 

Snapping to attention, Feyre clutched her bag to her chest and found the source of her name.

Her friend, and roommate, Alis waved at her from a path diverging deeper on to campus.  Her dark hair hung in waves down her back and the jacket she wore was flattering against her curves.

Feyre let out a long, releieved breath and plastered a smile on her face.  Quickly, she moved toward her friend.

“Hey,” Feyre greeted and accepted a hug from the smaller girl. “What are you doing here?”

“I know you had a late class,” Alis explained, “and I knew it was with Wesson.  I heard the woman is miserable.  So intense.  But--I mean--you’re going to do great.  Your always so creative with everything I’m sure she’ll love you.  Anyway, I was finishing up buying my books for the semester and thought I’d meet up with you.”

Feyre smiled as Alis spoke, grateful for the small distraction.  Even if it was slightly horrific in thinking about trying to get on a professor’s good-side.

“Thanks,” Feyre said, “I appreciate it.  It was a bit intimidating.”

“I think everyone just likes making freshman miserable,” Alis said.  Alis was technically a junior, but had changed her major four times and couldn’t decide on a minor.  She was not on track to graduate when she’d originally thought, but wasn’t at all concerned.  

Feyre wished she could be more like that than the raging mess she felt she was.

Behind them, leaving the Humanities Building, the TA appeared leading an entire gaggle of girls.

“Let’s go,” Feyre muttered. “I’m exhausted.”

#

By the third week of the semester Feyre came to better understand her relationship with exhaustion.  And it was not a good one.

She was fairly certain her body consisted of ninety percent caffeinated beverages and ten percent hot pockets.  She’d never been one for eating much.  Growing up had always been a struggle in keeping food in the fridge and a decent pair of shoes on her feet.  Feyre knew by now how her body functioned.

It wasn’t healthy, not in the slightest.  And there was a part of her that recognized that.  And another part that ignored it.

Two nights a week, Feyre found herself stuffed in the basement with little enjoyment.  Other than getting to stare and Rhysand when Dr. Wesson turned the class over to him for brief instruction.

And looking at him was enjoyment.  He was far different from any other guy Feyre had encountered.  His hair was kept neat and short sweeping easily back out of his face, a charming smile, and warm brown skin.  Not to mention the tattoos. 

Feyre had never really considered tattoos as being attractive.  Perhaps it was the artistic side of her that couldn’t get enough of them.  On him at least.  The way the black in swirled on his skin and swept up his arms.  It was a shame he never wore short sleeves or unbuttoned one extra cutton at his collar.

Hell.

Mentally shaking herself, Feyre forced herself to pay attention.

Rhysand was discussing scores from the test last week.  And, to put it mildly, was not impressed.  Oh, there was plenty of good to say.  Some of the students were engaged in the topics at hand.  Some of the students displayed an obvious grasp of complicated topics.  Others did not.

Feyre found herself sinking deeper into her seat by the end of class.

He hadn’t called her out by name, but truly--it felt like he had.

“That’s it for today, enjoy the weekend,” Rhysand called out at the tick of nine, “and remember essay proposals are due by the start of class on Tuesday.”

There was a quick rustle of the students getting up and gathering their things.  It was a glorious Thursday evening and Feyre had somehow managed to keep her Friday’s clear of classes.  At least something had gone right.

“Feyre?” She whipped around to meet those stark violet eyes. Hell. “I needed to talk to you about the questions you had on the proposal assignment.”

Feyre bristled.  And not just because some of the girls shot her angry looks for being singled out by the hot TA.  She hadn’t asked any questions.  She was just trying to skate by on this class and be done with her prerequisites so she could get into her Art Major.

She set her bag on the floor once more and went to the front of the class.  Already most of the students were leaving, far too eager to be done with school for the night.

As Rhysand answered a few last questions and dismissed the rest of the students, Feyre approached.  Already she knew what she was going to say.

“I don’t have any questions.” The words fell from her mouth with ease. “I already know what I’m writing on.”

Lie.  But a well-practiced one.

Rhysand’s mouth curled in a smile.  He hefted a small stack of papers in one hand and leafed through them.  Feyre froze realizing that they were the tests from last week.  He pulled one of the stapled bunches out before setting the rest down.

“Honestly, I was surprised while grading this,” he said, “I mean, you’re obviously smart.  I saw that you were awarded the Starfell Scholarship, not an easy accomplishment.  Not to mention your always engaged and taking notes.”

Feyre wished her skin wasn’t as pale as it was.  Her skin flushed under his scrutiny, but she tilted her chin up and met his gaze.

“And?” she asked. “I take my education seriously.”

Somewhat.  When she actually liked the work.

Rhysand handed her the test.  And she saw the grade.

D.

D.

D.

Hell.

Her stomach churned.  Roiled actually.  Maybe she was going to be sick.  That was just what she needed.

“So?” she asked instead. “It was the first test of the semester.”

“And yours in the only outlier,” he replied.

His eyes never left hers and Feyre felt more and more inclined to throw something at him.  Who was he to talk to her about her grade?  He was just the damned TA.

“Dr. Wesson doesn’t like picking up the slack of grading or talking to students about it all that much,” he continued, literally reading her mind. “I’m just concerned about you falling behind.”

Feyre stiffened and pursed her lips.

“I grew up learning Prythian history, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” she said stiffly.  

Another lie.  She knew enough that basic education taught and what she’d heard and listened to.  But reading about it?  Her mind couldn’t grasp it.  It had been hard enough getting decent SAT scores to get accepted in the University let alone writing that damned Starfell essay.

“Of course,” Rhysand said slowly.

And Feyre had the sense that he was assessing her.  Analytically, carefully.  In the was that one would size up an opponent or scrutinize a strange recipe.  He was trying to understand her.

Feyre handed him back the test.

“Thanks for the concern,” she said, “but I’ll be fine.”

Perhaps he was just being nice.  Perhaps he was merely trying to fulfill his duties as TA.  But she had seen the way he acted in the class.  At times rebuffing boys and girls alike.  Not to mention seeing him around campus tossing a football around with two other boys.  She’d also seen him get kicked out of the library for a parkour prank challenge.  

In all honesty, Feyre had no idea what to make of him.  And she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.

He didn’t seem to believe her.  Not with the crease forming between his brow nor the frown turning down one side of his mouth.  

Well, that was his problem.

“Have a good night,” Feyre said.  She spun on her heel before he could say anything and grabbed her bag and was out the door.  

Once she was outside, she could breathe again.  Strange.  She often found the darkness, the night, to be so suffocating.  It wasn’t long before Feyre realized something was off about the night.  And then she realized.  Alis was nowhere in sight.

Feyre dug her phone out of her pocket and found a missed text.

Sorry chica, caught up at study group.  Probs gonna spend the night at Nuala’s too.  See you tomorrow!

Of all the nights Alis could get serious with her girlfriend.

Feyre swallowed stiffly and stared out over the pavilion that stretched between the humanities building and out to the mathematics building.  A few pathways branched off to different parts of campus and then there was the main one that would take her to the dorms.  And of course, most of the streetlamps were barely flickering to life.

She’d never liked the dark.  Never liked what could hide in the shadows.  Nor what could sneak in silence.  Perhaps it was childish to still hold onto that fear.  She was almost nineteen years old after all. Nearly fifteen years later and here she was.

Feyre’s hands shook as she clutched her phone.  She could call Elain.  Nesta.  Even just to talk to as she walked.  Though Elain lost her phone even when it was in her hand.  And Nesta was at work.  

But it was fine.  Feyre knew it was fine.  Because all she needed to do was walk.  And shed been walking for long enough that putting one step in front of the other was natural.  Easy.  Simple.  Yet here she was.  Standing.

When Rhysand spoke, she didn’t even start.  

“Are you waiting for someone?” he asked.

Myself.  “No.”

Silence.

“It’s getting late.”

“I know.”

Silence.

How strange it was, to hear only the hum of crickets and breath of night.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Rhysand asked.  

Feyre glanced at him.  Even in the shadows she could see him clearly.  It was like he was made of night, of dark, of the mysteries that she could never lay her hand on.  She shook her head.  Focus, Feyre.

“Of course I am,” she insisted, a little too sharply. “Maybe I like having time to think.”

“At nine-thirty at night.  Outside the least exciting building on campus.”

“Oh, I don’t know.  I heard that last year a group of boys nearly got suspended for trying to host a snowball fight, indoors.” Feyre couldn’t help but grin when she saw how Rhysand flushed.

“Technically, I’m not the one who brought the snowballs inside the building,” he said defensively.

“Oh, no, you’re just the one who built an entire fort in front of the main entrance to the building,” Feyre said.

It had actually been pretty hilarious when she’d heard about it from Alis. It almost made her wish that she'd been around last year instead of taking a year off.

“Technically,” he said again, the word making Feyre’s brow arch, “it was my brother who instigated the fight. He couldn’t let his reign be challenged.”

Feyre snorted a laugh and looked out over the quiet campus. It almost didn't look so dark and cold as she'd thought it had.  But still, she felt her heart continue to hammer out unevenly in her chest.  She couldn't walk home alone. Even the thought of taking one step forward had her clench and unclench a fist over the strap of her bag.

Rhysand continued saying something, but Feyre was only half listening.  She was mostly focused on the thought of walking home.  She could cut through the Science building.  If it was still open.  Or she could full out sprint.

“Are you alright?” Rhysand asked.

Flushing, Feyre pushed her hair out of her eyes and nodded. “Fine, yeah.” She knew she had to ask him.  Knew that it was her only option despite how embarrassed she might feel. “Could you--this is stupid, so you can say no--could you walk with me to the dorms?”

Rhysand was quiet for a moment.  And in that moment Feyre was certain he was going to sneer at her.  Laugh.  Tell her to get over herself.  Just like the others before him.

"Where do you live?" Rhys and asked suddenly, cutting Feyre off before she had the ch

“The dorms on the west side,” she said.

“Alliance Dorms?” Rhysaid confirmed.  When Feyre nodded, he flashed her a small smile. “Absolutely.”

Relief pounded through Feyre.

“If you tell me what the deal was with that test.”

“You’re an ass.”  The words were out before Feyre could stop them.  Not the best thing to say to the TA of a class she was likely going to flunk.

Scowling, more to herself than him, Feyre started walking towards the dorms.  She was a strong confidant woman.  She did not need him to walk her home.

But Rhysand with those damned long legs kept stride with her easily.  And he was laughing.  Feyre was half tempted to knock an elbow in his side for laughing at her, but his next words caught her off guard.

“I like you Feyre,” he said, “you are rather interesting.”

She glanced up at him.  Was he serious?  She’d insulted him.  She’d barely exchanged ten words with him at this point.  And was scared of walking home alone.  Granted it was a valid fear for a young woman on a college campus these days.

“Insane is the better word for it,” she replied, mostly under her breath.  That’s what everyone back home said at least.  In the small town where nothing was supposed to go wrong.  But everything did.

“Interesting, curious, vibrant,” Rhysand listed off. “Far better words I think.”

Feyre had never been good with words.  Like now.  She couldn’t find the energy to respond to him.  There was a spark in his eye that almost challenged her, begged her to continue the banter, the little game.  

She remained silent.

She’d heard it was a far better mask for her to wear anyways.

#

The first paper she turned in for the History class was returned with far too many red marks.  Far too many question marks.  Far too many.  So Feyre merely folded the thing in half and stuffed it in her bag.

She could burn it later.

Dr. Wesson ended the lecture right at nine and dismissed the class.  Feyre had almost disillusioned herself into thinking she could avoid a conversation with the Professor.  With Rhysand.  But just as she was trying to maneuver around the giggling pack of girls that sat next to her, Dr. Wesson’s voice called out for her.

“Oh Miss Archeron, a word please?”

Feyre froze.  She could feign a phone call.  But then next class session the same thing would happen.  So, Feyre braced herself for what was to come and went to the front of the class.

As usual, Rhysand looked perfectly unruffled.  Despite the fact that Fall was quickly slipping into the winter months, he still wore a simple black button up tucked into slacks, the sleeves rolled up.

“Feyre,” Dr. Wesson said as she approached, she reached out a hand and gave Feyre a firm pat on the arm. “I know Rhysand spoke to you last week about your test.  I wanted to follow up, especially in seeing how this essay went.  Now, there is still plenty of time left in the semester, but I worry you aren’t grasping the things you should be.”

Blood pounded in Feyre’s ears.  She could hear her heart beat throb, feel it in her veins.  Her entire body flushed with embarrassment, stress, horror.  Everything bubbled to the surface even though she’d tried so hard to tamp it down.

She tried to open her mouth but found her teeth were grinding together so bad that her jaw hurt.

“I think,” Dr. Wesson continued, “that you would benefit from spending a bit of extra time with Rhysand.  Just to make sure you’re where you need to be in the class.”

Feyre found herself nodding and agreeing.  Her voice was relaxed, calm even.  But far too close to breaking.

After thanking the Doctor for her uncharacteristic kindness, Feyre stared and the poorly erased whiteboard over Rhysand’s shoulder for a long moment.  With a slow exhale she finally met his gaze.

Rhysand met her eyes with such intensity that Feyre nearly lost her breath all over again.  She shook it off and rolled her shoulders.

“Shall we get started tonight?” she asked. “Or I’m sure you have plans.”

“Nah, only kicking Cassian’s ass at Mario Cart,” Rhysand replied.  He flashed her an innocent sort of smile.  Feyre wasn’t sure if it was one out of kindness or mockery of some sort.

She pulled her phone from her pocket and stuck it out for him. “Just give me your number and I’ll let you know when’s a good time to study.”

Rhysand hesitated on a moment before accepting the phone and adding his details.  As soon as she got her phone back, Feyre changed his name from Rhys to Prick.  It seemed to fit better.

“It’s not a big deal you know,” Rhysand said.  

He followed Feyre out of the classroom.  His steps were confident against the carpet that had to be at least thirty years old.  Truly Rhysand was an enigma with his ease, grace, and elegance when pitted against the drab interior of the Humanities Building.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Feyre said.

Once outside, the cold night air nipped at her skin and even through her jacket she could feel goosebumps rise.  Just like the night last week, Feyre waited just outside the building doors.  She stared into the night; across the courtyard she could see a few pale lights from the Math Building.  None of the lampposts had been fixed which left most of the walkways in shadows.

Nothing about the night was out of place.  It was calm, still, and everything lingered on Feyre’s mind.  And just like last week, Rhysand waited beside her.

Overhead, Feyre could just make out the stars.  Only a thin veil of clouds hung over the sky allowing a small bit of freedom to pierce her heart.  But not enough.

“Could you walk with me again?” she asked quietly, unable to look at Rhysand.

“Only if you talk to me this time,” he said.  That cheeky grin returning.  And despite how much she hated it, it put Feyre at ease.

“Fine.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets and began walking. “What made you pick history?  There had to be something else.  You don’t seem the type for old stuffy books or maps.”

“And who do you peg me for, Feyre?” His voice was practically a purr.

“High and mighty sitting behind a desk,” she replied drily. “Running some company somewhere.  You certainly have the personality for it.”

He laughed unamused. “If my father had any say in the matter.  A degree in history only puts off the inevitable.”

“That’s a rather bleak look on things,” Feyre said.  It sounded like something she would say.

“Only if I didn’t enjoy what I was learning so much,” he said.  In the flickering light of the lamps, they walked beneath, Rhysand’s expression brightened. “Between the wars and legends surrounding what shaped the country...it’s always been curious to see what we became.  What we can become.”

His response seemed so honest, so genuine, that Feyre nearly stumbled.  She barely knew him, had barely spent any time with him, yet she was beginning to feel that she knew him.

“So you devote all your time and attention to it?” Feyre asked.

They passed by the last of the campus buildings.  A brisk wind scattered fallen leaves on the sidewalks and crunched under their steps as they walked.

“Don’t you have something you love?  Something that you feel has changed you and you’d never want to give it up?”

A box of paints.  Brushes that she’d had since she was ten.  A canvas only half finished.  She’d thought she could complete the image but it had been almost a year since she’d even looked at it.  But art…art had changed her.  Art had loved her just as she loved it.

“I guess you’re right,” she admitted.  Tilting her chin up, Feyre caught sight of a small patch of stars amid the inky black sky.  Dim but shining still. “There’s always something.”

If he heard the sadness in her voice, he said nothing.  Which was partially surprising, but Feyre would roll with it.

“The tutoring,” Rhysand began.

“No,” Feyre cut him off.  “Not right now.”

“So you’re just going to ignore your problems?”

“It’s not a problem.”

“Seems to be.”

Feyre stopped causing him him to move a few steps ahead of her.  When he turned back towards her, he waited.  

“I’ll admit to needing a little extra help to help my tests and essays, but I don’t see what else you’d need to know.”

“It’s alright to talk,” Rhysand paused, something else on the cusp of behind heard.  But he restrained, his voice trailing off softly.

Feyre ignored the comment.  Talking had never been her strong suit.  She was more of action.  Less idle, more work.  Ever since she was a child it had been that way.  She knew why, of course.  It was obvious when she thought about it.  So she never thought about it.

“What are you planning on studying?” Rhysand asked when she made no effort to continue on the topic of her test.

“Art,” she replied immediately. “I’m an artist.  But my sister wanted me to get more of an education that could support me.  So I’m just working on my prerequisites.”

“Art,” he repeated.  There was a lilt to his voice as if he really were actually interested in what she was saying. “Sketching?  Sculpture?”

“Paint and canvas,” Feyre said.  “Since I was little.  After my mom died, my sister bought me my first set of brushes and paint and everything I could need.  She was only nine.  I think she stole my dad’s credit card to do it.”

The reality of that had Feyre laughing softly, but Rhysand gave her look that was a mix of horror and confusion.

“It’s fine,” Feyre said quickly, “I’m fine.”

It was a lie of course.  If she really were fine, she wouldn't have asked him to walk her home.  She would better know how to control her fears, her anxiety.  She would be happy.

“My mother died ten years ago,” Rhysand told her, his voice quiet and contemplative. “She’d been sick for a while and we knew it was coming.  But for a ten-year-old boy, it was hard to understand.  My father certainly didn’t.  Still doesn’t.”

They reached Feyre’s dorms then, floodlights illuminated the front street and made it seem as though it were day.  Feyre turned toward him and found herself smiling, just barely.

“Thank-you,” she said sincerely.  “And I’m sorry you have to be a part of the dead mother’s club.”

“You too,” he said.

Feyre wondered if there was something else she should say.  Wondered if he would even want to hear it.  It was strange, that little flame of comradery that she felt towards him.  But it was gone in an instant as Alis came running out from the building.

“Feyre!  Get inside, it’s movie night!”

Shaking her head, Feyre offered Rhysand a small wave and headed into the dorms.

#

With three weeks until the next paper was due in that miserable class, Feyre spent her free time studying with Rhysand.  It wasn’t as miserable as she’d been expecting it to be.  Not when she realized he was far more laid back than she’d assumed.  And then she’d met his best friends who were essentially like his brothers.

It was far easier to study in the relaxed environment that Rhysand created.  And far easier to be herself around him.  Of course, it had taken Feyre a while to decide that maybe they could be friends.  

“Summarize what the chapter from last night’s reading discussed,” Rhysand said one night as they were studying.  It was well after ten o’clock but they’d been given permission to stay in the building.  

Feyre pursed her lips.  She’d done the reading of course.  As well as she’d been able.  Most of had been hard to understand.  No matter how she tried to focus or train her mind, her dyslexia always got in the way.

“Right,” Feyre said slowly. “It was about the last king of Hybern.”

“And?” Rhysand prodded.

“And he was a jerk,” Feyre added.  

Rhysand’s fixed her with a look.  Long and hard but still underlined with compassion.

“Feyre,” he said, just a bit more seriousness to his voice.

She sighed heavily and tugged at the sleeve of her shirt. “I read it.  I just didn’t understand it.”

Silence.

Feyre shot him a scowl but didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m dyslexic.  And History tends to be a bit harder for me to understand.”

Rhsand blinked.  Once.  But nothing else.  No laugh or scoff of scorn.  Instead, he smiled and pushed to text book toward her.

“Then read.”

“Read?”

“Aloud, preferably,” Rhysand said.  He shrugged. “You want to be ready for the paper and subsequent test?”

“Prick,” she muttered.  But she dragged the book towards her and began.

It became habit.  A rhythm they fell into for the next several weeks.  Rhysand helped Feyre study and prepare for the paper, the test.  He walked her home, remaining the perfect gentleman.  And Feyre, Feyre relished the time.

It was because he was genuine.  Honest.  There was something about him, deeper than the intensity he displayed on the outside.  And for the first time in a while, Feyre found herself laughing with him.  For the first time in a while, she was living for more than just expectations.

He was actually turning into her friend and it was strange thought indeed.

“Alright students,” Dr. Wesson announced towards the end of class on the last day before Thanksgiving break. “I have your midterm tests and papers graded.  So now you can either relax or stress even further.  Depending on the grade.”

A weak laugh bubbled around the room.  Feyre gripped the underside of her chair tightly.  She wasn’t ready for this.  Not in the slightest.

Dr. Wesson slowly made her way around the room delivering both test and paper.  Feyre, by some stroke of cosmic affair, didn’t get her paper until last and the entire room was empty aside from Dr. Wesson and Rhysand.  Why was it they always ended up here?

“Well done, Miss Archeron,” Dr. Wesson said.  She handed two packets of paper to Feyre and smiled. “I love to see improvement.”

Gaping, Feyre looked between the two grades.  Heart hammering, she looked over the scores, brilliant red B’s shined up at her.

“I don’t usually offer extra credit,” the doctor went on, “but an exhibit is coming to the University about the Prythian Wall and it’s destruction.  If you can come up with a project to demonstrate what it entails, I might be convinced to help you keep your grade up.”

Feyre could only nod as the professor bid them goodnight and left.

“Well done.”

Feyre looked up to see Rhysand beaming at her and she couldn’t help but grin.  She leapt out of her seat and flung her arms around him in an embrace.

“Thank-you!” she whispered.  It took her perhaps a moment too long to realize that a hung might not have been the best of plans.  She hurriedly pulled back. “Sorry.  That was uncalled far.  I’m just really excited.”

“As you should be,” Rhysand said.  His smile hadn’t dimmed but there was something in his eyes that Feyre couldn’t quite read. “It wasn’t an easy test.”

“And now we have a full week off for Thanksgiving,” she said.  It was the best news she could have been given after getting her grades back.

“If you want,” Rhysand said, “my brother’s and cousin and I are having a game night, with pizza.  If you want to come.”

A spark of excitement ignited in Feyre’s chest.  She didn’t know when she’d developed a stupid little crush on Rhysand, but it was slowly starting to simmer out of control.  She should have said no.  Or come up with an excuse of some kind.  Insead she found herself nodding.

“I’d like that,” she said.

They collected their things and left the building.  Feyre took a few steps down the path they usually took to get to her dorm when she paused.  She turned back to Rhysand and frowned.

“Where do you live?”

Rhysand looked a little sheepish.  “Oh, I live over in the Court Apartments.”

Feyre blinked. “That’s in the complete opposite direction from my place.”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been walking me home for practically a month.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Feyre asked, practically waving her hands in the air.  “It’s basically a two-mile walk from my place.”

Rhysand shrugged. “You asked for help and I wanted to give it.”

Feyre stared at him.  Her coat and scarf bunched around her neck, even though the night was perfectly clear.  It was clear enough that she could see the billions of stars overhead.  She could see them sparking in the black night.  And for one she wasn’t overcome with her usual anxiety.  Her usual fears.  Instead, all she would do was stare at Rhysand.

“Why would you do that?” she insisted.

Rhysand opened and closed his mouth a few times. “Because you were worth it.”

His simple words hung between them and Feyre had a hard time knowing what to say or how to react.  So she merely smiled and hooked her arm with his.

“Tell me about game night.  Am I going to wind up on some snipe hunt?”

“Oh no, you and I are going to gang up against Cassian and beat him at Mario Cart.”

Feyre laughed. “Sounds like a plan.”

And she realized that she wouldn’t mind if that’s how the rest of her nights played out.  Late hours of laughs and friends, being around people--one person--who made her feel better than she had in a long time.  

No, she wouldn’t mind it at all.

#

thanks so much for reading!

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[timelordthirteen]

Desperate Souls 6/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit

Summary: A broke and heartbroken Belle French comes to an agreement with Mr. Gold to do a little modeling, just for him, in exchange for the money she desperately needs, but it isn’t long before they both realize they’ve made a deal they didn’t understand. Based on this prompt.

Chapter Summary: Another evening, another dinner, but this time Belle surprises Gold and herself.

Notes: IT HAS BEEN 84 YEARS. I am so sorry. Basically March and April were catastrophes, mostly of a work variety. A lot of things happened, I got super burned out, and I thought a lot about quitting my job. BUT... things are looking up significantly, and the muse is back. This is what Belle is wearing. ;)

[AO3]

Thursday evening, Belle arrived at ten minutes to six.

Gold seemed surprised when he opened the door, and she wondered if the events of the previous day, including their little tiff in his shop, had made him think she wasn’t coming for dinner. He was wearing a deep purple shirt, striped with a darker shade, and a plain tie in yet another purple tone. The look was topped off with a set of gold sleeve garters just above his elbows.

He’d held the door, taken her coat with little more than the usual Miss French, and guided her into the dining room, where he presented her with a plate of lamb chops and sizzled garlic, dressed with a mint and rosemary, chimichurri style sauce. To the side was a mix of roasted carrots and parsnips, sliced and blistered under the broiler, and tossed in the drippings from the lamb. It smelled amazing, and though she had initially thought the mint sauce would be too bold and overpowering, it melded perfectly with the earthy flavor of the lamb and vegetables. It was as if Gold was overtly trying to impress her with his prowess in the kitchen.

“Do you - like lamb?”

Belle looked up from her plate and blinked at him. “Um, yeah, yeah it’s good. The sauce especially.”

He nodded and stabbed his fork into the center of a carrot. “Good.”

She picked up her wine and took a long swallow as he focused back on his food. Perhaps she had made a mistake in coming over early and assuming that what had happened yesterday wasn’t going to affect anything. The silence lingered, broken awkwardly by the occasional scrape of silverware, and despite the food being delicious, she had barely eaten anything. Her stomach felt even more hollow than the first time she’d come over, and all she wanted was for the whole thing to be over so she could go home and ruminate on the mess her father was in.

She hadn’t quite sorted out what the hell to do about that situation, and though she didn’t know for sure where the money had gone, she worried that Moe had slipped back into the old, bad habits he had developed in the years after her mother died. They had been part of the reason for their move from California all the way to Maine. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t be pulled into that again, that she wouldn’t let his vices upend her life.

The abrupt sound of a fork clattering against a plate shook her from her rumination. She looked up to find Gold staring across the table at her, his silverware resting against the china, and his hands folded and held up in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply.

Belle’s head tilted slightly, and he sighed.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t let you know about the - situation - with your father.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I put the blame on you instead of where it should be, which is squarely on my father. The terms of his loan are between you and him, and probably confidential anyway.”

Gold lowered his hands and shifted in his seat. “Yes, but I still could have said something, perhaps hinted, or suggested that you speak to him about the loan for the flowers. Instead -”

It was her turn to sigh. “No, it’s fine, really I -” He held up a hand, and she stopped, her fingers twisting her napkin against her thigh.

“Let me finish,” he said softly. “My business with Moe, and my arrangement with you, are completely separate things as far as I’m concerned. One does not have any bearing on the other. I understand that isn’t the case for you, and that your father’s financial situation has possibly made yours worse.”

“Yeah...” She looked away, turning her gaze towards the living room doorway which had a view through to the front window. The porch lights illuminated the light snow that had started falling shortly after she arrived.

“As for your father not being truthful with you...” He trailed off and exhaled heavily.

She let out a humorless, scoffing laugh and glanced at Gold’s face before turning her gaze to her barely eaten meal. “It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last, sadly.”

He gave her a look that was as much a smile as it was a grimace. “It’s deplorable, and I’m sorry for that as well.”

Belle shook her head again. “It’s not your fault, but thank you. I should probably apologize as well.”

“What for?” He frowned and reached for his wine glass.

“For marching into your shop and yelling at you.”

He waved a hand and gave her a half smile before he sipped at his drink. “Consider it forgotten.”

She relaxed at his words, and the awkward tension that had been present since he had first opened the door faded as they went back to their meal and companionable small talk. She hadn’t expected him to apologize. He was known to do so rarely even when there might be blame to lay at his door, but in this case there was none at all, and yet he had seemed compelled to clear the air. To her surprise, he appeared genuinely contrite, and his concern for her situation with her father felt quite sincere.

Gold frowned over his glass as he watched Belle make a little grouping of carrots at one side of her plate. He was glad that they had resolved things between them, but not knowing what Moe French was doing with the money he’d borrowed was concerning. He presumed Belle still didn’t know either, or if she did that it was bad enough she would never say so. At this point, Gold would consider it a miracle if Moe managed to pay him back by the deadline he’d set. Given her current financial situation, helping to pay her father’s debt as well would only make things worse for the both of them.

He was mulling over how to handle that particular situation, when he noticed Belle was watching him. “Finished?”

She smiled and glanced down at her empty plate. “Yes, and it was amazing and delicious, as usual.”

He chuckled, secretly pleased by not only her praise, but also by her choice of words. As usual. There was something shared and familiar in that which he liked far more than he should.

Abruptly, Gold pushed back from the table, and Belle watched as he stood and began to clear the dishes. When he reached across for hers as well, she tried to catch his gaze, but he seemed to be focused on his task.

She stood as well, and eased her way towards the doorway to the living room, intending to take the long way around to the foyer and the small half bath where embarrassment inevitably awaited her. “I’ll um, just go and - and change.”

At that he paused, plates stacked, silverware crossed over the top. His shoulders moved slightly as he let out a breath, and then gave her a brief nod. It was the first time she’d actually said it out loud. Before it had always been the unspoken next step; he cleaned up from dinner, and she went to put on something scandalous. It was the thing they both knew was coming, yet seemed content to leave in a state of plausible deniability.

The closed door of the powder room loomed, and the flutters in her stomach increased with every step, until she almost stumbled through it. A faint gasp slipped out when she flipped the lights on and saw what Gold had left out for her to wear. She pushed the door closed with her weight as she leaned back against it, her eyes trailing over the sheer lace.

This piece happened to be one of her favorites; a lacy, flirty babydoll nightie in a deep purple with a matching panty. Belle took a breath and licked her lips, steeling her nerves as she shrugged off her cardigan and unbuttoned her blouse. A few minutes later, she was tugging the flimsiest pair of purple underwear up her legs, adjusting the thin elastic over her hips before regarding herself in the mirror.

The front of the garment was low, covering the majority of her breasts with a soft lace pattern, but leaving ample cleavage exposed all the way down to the ribbon where the seams met. There was no underwire, but the elastic that went around her chest combined with the cut of the fabric had a slight lifting effect, which in another circumstance might have pleased her, but in this felt like she was offering herself for something. The fabric was even more see-through now that she had it on, and she was thankful that the lighting in the study was soft and dark.

The lower half of the nightie overlapped in the front, and fell in soft pleats above a wide strip of lace near the bottom. The overall effect made it slightly less sheer, but still transparent enough to reveal where the panties did and didn’t cover her. She turned around and looked over her shoulder to see that the hem ended just passed her backside, and swallowed hard.

Facing the mirror again, she braced on the wall and wiggled her feet back into her strappy black heels. She had decided when she was changing clothes after work that she was tired of walking around in bare feet in Gold’s house, and black heels went with nearly everything.

As she was about to exit the powder room, a thought occurred to her. It seemed almost certain now that Gold was working his way towards more and more revealing items, pushing her limits one week at a time. Perhaps she could push back.

Belle smiled to herself as her eyes perused the floor to ceiling bookshelves. Towards the top she could see wide, hefty tomes that reminded her of the encyclopedias she’d grown up with in school, before the days of Wikipedia and Google. Down at a more reachable level, there was a row of well worn volumes, and she touched the spines as her gaze took them in. He had several limited and first editions the likes of which she’d only had access to because she’d worked in libraries, yet here they were one shelf above more contemporary titles. He seemed to have everything from murder mysteries to classic poetry, and her smile grew as her fingers brushed over every published Bronte sister.

Shifting to her right, she came to stand next to the case with the kintsugi tea set, and a strange, warm feeling washed over her as she gave it a fond glance. Above the case however, was something quite unexpected. She’d initially thought it was an art piece, but now that she was truly looking and taking it in, it appeared to be a page from a manuscript in a gothic style lettering. Her eyes scanned the words, going wide as she realized what she was looking at. The title, the bold capital letter surrounded by scripted decoration, the odd, 17th century English spellings...

“I was wondering how long it would take you to notice it.”

Gold’s voice startled her, and she gaped at him for a long moment before her eyes drifted back to the framed page. “Is that from -?”

“From a 1611 King James version of the Bible?” he finished for her, sauntering into the room with a bemused smirk.

Belle blinked. “Yes?”

He flashed his teeth and came to stand beside her, his cane planted in front of him and his hands folded calmly over the handle. “Yes.”

His voice was soft and almost reverent as he looked up, and she gave him a brief glance before skimming the words on the page, her mind automatically adjusting to the strange letters as she read.

“The Apocrypha?” she asked.

Gold smiled crookedly. “Yes, again. I’m surprised you recognized it, considering it’s not the the title page.”

She shrugged, and looked at him, her lips curving. “I have an affinity for the texts that were removed from the Bible. And other religious books too. I always wanted to know what the powers that be didn’t want people to know.”

Her gaze moved back to the page, while his stayed fixed on her, watching the quirk of her lips as she read the words again.

“You were the kid that read all the banned books, weren’t you,” he said, finally.

Belle bit her lip and grinned at him. “I considered it a matter of pride to read all of them as soon as I learned there was such a thing. It’s why I became a librarian. I wanted to make sure that people could always find them if they wanted to.” She looked up, nodded her head towards the Bible page. “There’s always a reason a book ends up on that list, something that makes the man say you shouldn’t read it, and most of the time it’s precisely the reason you should.”

After a pause, she met his eyes and shrugged. “You disagree?”

He shook his head slowly, somehow managing a reply through the dazed fog in his head. “No, no. Quite the opposite.”

He had meant to tease her, and to distract himself from looking too long at what she was wearing, but her response was so earnest, and so well matched to his own thoughts on the matter, that he could do nothing except hold her in even more esteem than he already did. It was another sign that his plan was failing miserably, and yet he refused to be the one to end their deal. He was certain that there would come a point where her sensibilities would get the better of her, pushing her to refuse the silent request hanging in the powder room, and that, combined with whatever disaster was brewing with her father, would be the end of it. He need only be patient.

She looked away and shifted from one foot to the other, temporarily relieving the pressure on her toes. Her shoes were starting to pinch, but the strange, post-dinner conversations she kept having with Gold gave an air of comfortable intimacy to the moment that she didn’t want to dispel. He seemed as surprised by her answers as she was by all the books and objects he’d collected. The pawn shop had always been an eclectic mix of things, which she’d attributed to the nature of the business, but she now suspected it was entirely due to the eclectic inclinations of its owner. Inclinations which only made her want to know more about each one of his possessions, and Gold too, if she was honest.

Abruptly, Belle turned, blowing out a quiet breath as she crossed to the bar next to the fireplace. Behind her, she heard the thump of Gold’s cane, and looked back at him with as much of a smile as she could manage through her nerves.

“Why don’t you sit down,” she said, “and I’ll get your drink.”

Gold blinked at her, his head tilting slightly, before he nodded, and by the time she was done filling the glass with scotch, he was seated in his usual place. She took her time replacing the bottle on the shelf, and then pivoted slowly on her heel, smirking inwardly as she walked towards him.

He was noticeably off kilter, if his wide eyes and white knuckle grip on the arm of the chair was anything to go by, and she decided at the last second to push the envelope. She came close to the right arm of the chair, a hair’s breadth from his hand, and leaned forward ever so slightly to set the glass down on the side table. It was an unnecessary motion that served only to give him a full look at her breasts, but the way his lips parted, and the faint intake of air, sent a tingle down her spine. She returned to her usual spot by the end of the ottoman, and turned around all the way, once, before facing him again and letting him look.

Gold had no idea what was happening. His head felt almost dizzy, and he was vaguely aware that he’d lost control of the evening. She had been so close only a moment ago, her bare thigh a whisper from his fingers, her chest filling his vision for too brief a time. The glow of the fire had illuminated her as she turned and moved to stand by the ottoman, her silhouette leaving nothing to the imagination through the sheer fabric.

She stood still as he openly looked her up and down, and then, without a word or gesture from him, she turned slowly for a second time. He could feel his body react as the hem danced against her backside, and he reached for the glass of scotch, taking a quick sip to calm himself.

Belle found herself oddly amused as she watched Gold take a second gulp of his drink. She’d wrested back a little bit of control, and it had clearly surprised him even more than she’d intended. After a few seconds, he sent the glass aside, and she felt the weight of his gaze settle on her once more. It wasn't lecherous or discomfiting, as she thought it might feel were it anyone else. Instead it made her feel - warm.

“Thank you, Miss French.”

She gave him a small smile, and left to change, but something was different, she was different. She had put Mr. Gold on his back foot, something which few, if any, in Storybrooke could claim. The bathroom door closed, and she kicked off her heels, giving her feet some much needed relief on her way to leaning over the sink. She let out a slow breath and looked up, meeting her own gaze in the mirror and shaking her head.

The way he had looked at her, both when she was going on about banned books, and when she was modeling for him, gave her an unexpected rush. It was - intoxicating - and she was surprised to discover that she liked it. There was something powerful about what she’d done, owning the moment, and leaving no room for the usual embarrassment or awkwardness. A smile crept over her face as she remembered leaning towards him and the sensation that had come over her.

She shivered and rubbed her arms as she straightened, then set about changing back into her clothes. The babydoll was left on the same hanger on which she’d found it, panties included, which felt just a little bit dirty and wrong. Before she stepped back into the hallway, she looked back at it, wondering if she should take it with her or not. So far she’d chosen to leave each item behind, not wanting to take home something that had made her feel so uncomfortable to wear. She didn’t dwell on what he might do with them afterwards, but this piece, and this night were so different that she was almost sad to be leaving it.

Gold was waiting for her by the front door, holding a plastic container. She frowned and then realized it was leftovers from dinner.

“You didn’t need to,” she said, but he only shrugged in response as he handed it over.

The prospect of a second helping of a delicious meal made her smile, but it faded quickly when the yellow envelope came into view. He held that out for her as well, a simple, nondescript thing, but bulging a bit to one side where the money was tucked. It had dulled her good mood with the reminder of what their deal was all about. Still, she managed to thank him, awkwardly, and he bid her good night.

He waited by the door until she was out of sight, swallowed up by the late winter shadows, and then made his way to the powder room. Sighing, he reached for the hanger, and the lingerie that she had once again discarded. It wasn’t part of the deal in any way, but his assumption that she would want the items back, was obviously wrong. She probably saw them as even more tainted than when the fiancé she'd bought them for left her flat broke.

Upstairs, Gold made his way down the long hall to his bedroom, feeling the telltale ache in his bad leg from too many hours on his feet. Moving around the kitchen to make a rather complex dinner had been the last thing he’d needed to do after standing most of the day at the shop, rearranging a couple of the display cases, but it was worth it. Belle had enjoyed the meal, and they had cleared the air between them, at least somewhat.

He stepped into the walk-in closet, passing the neat row of suit jackets and trousers, and the angled shelves of polished dress shoes, to a short hanging area at the back wall. The hook of the hanger made a light clank as it went over the bar, and he sighed. The purple nightie swayed for a few seconds before the fabric stilled, hanging next to the two other items abandoned by Miss French.

Hesitantly, he reached out and touched the black chemise from her first visit, drawing the silk between his fingertips. Swallowing hard, his hand brushed the softness of the pink nightie, up and down with the back of his hand from hem to the edge of the lacy cups and back again. There was another pause before he slipped his hand under the sheer purple fabric from this evening, seeing for himself how transparent it truly was, and recalling once more the shape of her in the firelight. It was still slightly warm, and he sucked in a breath, catching a hint of her lingering scent.

His eyes closed as he inhaled again, and though there was no need for a cold shower tonight, he had begun to consider the fact that he may have made a deal he didn’t understand.

[norarigby]

Suprises

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x fem!reader

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff

Word count: ~1k

A/n: I’m a sucker for Argentina/timeskip Oikawa and I feel like there’s not enough of him. So this is my humble contribution. Enjoy!

A/n (part 2): This was originally like half the length. But then the editing process happened and it somehow doubled. I don’t know either.

It was a really long day. Nothing in particular had made it that way. Everything was just moving at a snail’s pace. The morning commute dragged on. Work and it’s many meetings dragged on. Even lunch, the oasis of peace and tranquillity that was supposed to give you enough to carry on, was near torturous. You were one more useless memo away from completely losing it. The only thing keeping you sane was the thought of crashing as soon as your head hit the pillow.

You unlocked your apartment door and as soon as you opened the door, you noticed the light was on. Completely on edge, you quietly took off your shoes and coat. Phone in hand, ready to call the police, you cautiously walked into the living space and saw your boyfriend, Oikawa, sprawled out on your couch, scrolling on his phone. You immediately breathed a sigh of relief.

Then it clicked.

Tooru.

Your Tooru.

Was here.

Actually here.

After 6 months of riding the rollercoaster of long distance, he was here. You two had gone back and forth for at least a month planning a visit. But neither of you had decided who was going whom and the trip wasn’t supposed to happen for another month. But here he was on a random Thursday in September. No heads up, no texts, no calls. This impromptu visit was definitely a surprise—a good surprise.

But as much as you wanted to run and hug him, your body still hadn’t recovered from fight or flight mode and was rooted to the ground. Luckily, Oikawa glanced up from his phone and his face melted into the the warmest smile you’d even seen from him—you took a mental picture, trying to capture that moment for the rest of your life. He jumped up to run and capture you in a hug. Oikawa clung onto you like you would disappear if he let go.

Not that you were complaining. You had missed his hugs and, weirdly, the way he smelled. His hugs were always warm and welcoming, like they would fix all of your problems and wash away the stress of the day. Your nose filled with his cologne. He smelled like home and you’d definitely missed it. (In fact, you had missed it so much, you bought a bottle of it a couple months ago to spray onto your pillow when missing him became too much. But that was a fact you would carry to your grave as if Oikawa found out, he would never let you live it down.)

Eventually he let up enough for you to let you finally look him in the eyes—although he still held his arms firmly around your waist. As you gazed into his eyes, you noticed that tears had begun to fill them. Your hand softly cupped his cheek, prompting a small hum to escape his lips. He brought up a hand to meet your own and leaned into it. As the tears rushed down his cheeks, you did your best to wipe them away with your thumb.

His closed eyes gave you an opportunity to finally look at him. He was your Tooru—that would never change—but, he was different. His skin and hair had been kissed by the sun. He’d gotten a little taller, stronger, sturdier. Even the soft smile that lingered on his face revealed early crinkles that told you he’d been smiling a lot more. So much had changed. But you knew this would happened when he told you his plan eight months ago.

Yes, this change was good. He felt different, but not in a way that worried you. He was becoming more like himself. And it was a beautiful thing to watch.

You rubbed your thumb gently across his cheek, “Tooru, what are you doing here? How will Argentina survive without your presence gracing its streets?”

His eyes fluttered open, “Argentina can survive long enough for me to visit my girlfriend for the weekend.”

“Well, be sure to thank Argentina for its generous sacrifice,” You pulled his head down to touch his forehead to yours, “I am glad to see you. I’ve missed you.”

Oikawa lightly held your wrists as they cupped his face, “I’ve missed you too.”

You closed your eyes and hummed in acknowledgment. As you calmed down from the excitement, tiredness washed over you again and you yawned. “Tired of seeing me already?” You could hear his playful smile he always had when he was teasing you.

“I had a long day and I’m exhausted. Sorry.”

Oikawa pulled back, compassion and concern written across his face, “Hey, no sorrys. I’m tired too. Why don’t we go to bed and we can talk more tomorrow, ‘kay?”

You nodded in agreement. He kissed you forehead and lead you to your room. As soon as you changed and got ready, you climbed into bed and he pulled you onto his chest. He lightly drew his fingers over your head and back while humming softly.

You had a slight pang in your stomach from guilt. Oikawa definitely would’ve wanted to stay up and be with each other as much as possible. But, dutiful as ever, he put your needs before his own, swallowing whatever disappointment lingered in him. Besides, even having him here, physically, with you was enough for now—and he definitely felt that too.

Too many thoughts swirled in your head, preventing you from sleeping. So instead, you focused on Oikawa’s steady breathing and soothing warmth. Soon, you could feel yourself drifting off. But just before you fell asleep, you mumbled, “I love you.”

You didn’t expect any sort of response, but Oikawa pulled you closer and whispered back, “I love you too.”

(Posted December 18, 2020, 11:19PM MST)