#the kitchen is the heart of anywhere my family is and I think this is true for many people and I think that’s so beautiful

[sunsoak]

I catch one whiff of some food and all of a sudden god i miss my stepdads cooking i miss korean bbq night i miss the tiny boxes of fruit gumballs from the asian market i miss coming home from school to the kitchen a mess and smelling delicious i miss godspeed and pavement on the speaker while he cooked I miss the way he would bust his ass for hours and yell “DIIINNNEEERRRR” and then tell us how much it was gonna suck (it would always be the best thing you’ve ever tasted) i miss being made fun of for not liking seaweed i miss learning how to use chopsticks by picking up banana slices i miss those after dinner tipsy conversations about politics that we’d get way too excited about and my mom would have to leave the room I miss it all

[theoldsports]

SOLUTION.

Art Donaldson x Reader | 5k words

SORRY SERIES LINK.

warnings: pregnancy, implied discussion of abortion, a boy groveling on his knees for his family, there’s a dog (a real one, not just Art), talk about Art’s forced weird athletic borderline disordered eating.

okay, i lied last time. THIS is my best work. this is very out of my brain and i hope you love it. holy shit.

Have you ever sat and listened to a leaky faucet? I mean, really listened?

Steady. Like a heartbeat, if you think about it.

Sometimes, though, if the leak is slow enough, it’s more like the kind of heart rate that sends the nurse with the crash-cart sweeping into the room to shock you out of an AFIB pattern. Or however that worked.

[Y/N] was listening to it. The dripping. The kitchen sink. It hadn’t stopped for days. When it began, it was steady. Now, it was irregular. It started the day Art left

Art had been away at an early season tournament. [Y/N] had an impossible work week, so Art had told her he was happy to go for the better part of the week on his own. They both knew Art really did hate to be alone in situations like that. He had always had one of his people there. His mom, Patrick, [Y/N]; one of them was in his corner at these things. This time, he was truly on his own. Art could not stand to travel alone. He had his team of physios and coaches, but not his family. [Y/N] was going to swing by and surprise him at the end, but her boss had leaned into her for trying to take more days off during release season for the big summer blockbusters. Plus, someone did have to watch the dog.

This context about Art’s being away is important. It’s not that Art was the epitome of a handyman, but he really liked to feel like he was contributing to their home’s ecosystem when a lightbulb went out or a switch needed replacing. The man was incredible with the small things. Yet, [Y/N] sat at the kitchen table with a frown on her face, trying to rough in an outline for an article. With the faucet dripping. If Art were there, or if she was with Art three states over, the faucet wouldn’t be dripping against the porcelain basin.

It wasn’t like the wifi signal was strong enough anywhere else on the property for her to up and move either.

drip drip drip. Said the faucet.

[Y/N] was damn near the point where she was going to run upstairs to the bedroom and get the baseball bat Art kept with the express purpose of running down the stairs in his briefs and cracking up on possible intruders. All she could think about was bringing the wood down against the glass and cheap metal on her kitchen counter.

A new house would have a working sink and a bathroom counter that wasn’t too small and a halfway decent wifi signal.

Instead, [Y/N] set her face down upon the cool blue faux granite countertop. The temperature helped ease the feeling of the hyperbolic corkscrew being driven between her eyes. The dripping kept dripping and [Y/N] wanted to cry.

This agony wasn’t all the sink’s fault, though.

[Y/N] saw on the tennis channel before she even got a call from Art that he’d won that weekend. He still hadn’t called. The lack of a call from made her feel ashamed. Not a soul there to celebrate the success with him. She felt an immense sense of guilt slide across her skin because she wasn’t there to witness that smile he got when he won. Sweaty and angry, but relieved every time. He still got that look when he won. Art was a machine on the court, and a competitor not worth counting out at this point in his career. He still looked surprised and delighted every time he, of all people, hit the winner. [Y/N] loved that look. Art loved how she would celebrate with him after a win, too.

[Y/N] prayed Art made his flight without delay that evening. Selfishly, because she wanted her boy back. Also because Art was mortally terrified of airplanes. Planes made him feel out of control due to lack of trust with the pilot. Without that phone call from him, [Y/N] was scared knowing he was out on his own and that he likely felt anxious enough to give a horse a heart attack. She would have no way of knowing if something had happened between the match end and now.

She did know that the sink was leaking.

She also knew her period was two weeks late.

That, Art couldn’t fix on his own. In fact, it was fairly obvious that the delay was more or less Art’s fault.

[Y/N] hadn’t yet taken a pregnancy test at that time. If she took the time to take one, it would make everything the obvious answer a reality she would have to deal with. She had scares before. Ones that she had never, and would never, tell Art about. She would wait for her delayed—not missed!—period and everything would be fine. Like the other times. It had to be fine.

She checked her phone. It was a blue slidephone with small rhinestone stickers she had applied to the back. Still nothing from Art. He said he would call first right after the match, but he still hadn’t actually called, so maybe it was time to call first. It had been hours since he said he’d ring up. It wasn’t a major concern that Art would blow her off. Ideas of danger and uncertainties flooded her head.

“I’m the one that wants marriage so bad. Not Artie. What if he says no? Or not now…?”

[Y/N] sat on the beach with her back against Patrick’s shins. Art and [Y/N] were completing their first year completely post college. [Y/N] and Patrick were twenty-four and Art was almost twenty-four. His November birthday set him behind.

Patrick’s hands were on her shoulders and his body in a beach chair behind her while they both stared off over ocean as the sun set. “You’re actually stupid if you think he’ll deny you, [Y/N].”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to step on his game, or whatever. The guy is supposed to ask. Isn’t this going to be… emasculating or something?”

“Emasculating for Art? For pretty baby? Yeah, okay,” Patrick teased. [Y/N] threw a fistful of sand at him. “Christ, okay, okay. Cool it.” He spit.

Art had run back up toward to hotel to grab his water bottle, while Patrick and [Y/N] stayed at the dunes. [Y/N] wanted to propose to Art by trip’s end. She thought it would be sweet. Art was extremely forward when it came to her her, but he hadn’t been forward about the whole proposal business. He seemed scared about marriage. [Y/N]he would do it herself.

She was grateful for the time alone with her best friend too. Sitting and doing nothing, or partying. Either was more than welcome. “He’s not going to say no,” Patrick continued. His mouth casually leaned close to her ear. “Because it’s insane how whipped you’ve got him.”

“Don’t say that—“

“He wants to have your babies. Ask him. Trust me, he’ll say yes and he will be all the hell over you.” His fingers worked into [Y/N]’s shoulders, feeling the tension there. He took his hands off of her when Art came running down the beach.

[Y/N] heard a click in the lock. Her head flopped to the left, still pressed against the counter, to glance at the door. Her heart rate increased. She was so tired and the speed of the situation so fast, that she didn’t both moving or attempting to defend herself.

Most fortunately, when the door swung open, it was her Art. The sun was going down behind him. He looked a bit ragged and had a racket bag over one shoulder and two duffels in the other hand. She sat upright sharply on the kitchen barstool. “Pretty baby!”

All Art’s gear hit the floor. The door was left open behind him (taking a big chance that their Labrador mix, Cheese, didn’t run down the stairs and bolt out and away). Art walked toward [Y/N], arms extending. His strong arms pulled [Y/N] in close to his chest. She rested her head against his soft gray t-shirt. Her own arms embraced him back and one of her hands tucked comfortably into the back pocket of his jeans. “[Y/N]… I missed you.” Art said into her hair.

“I missed you… I-I… You didn’t call. How did you get here—“

“Final match actually started on time, so I gambled on moving my flight to the earlier one. I didn’t have time to call if I was taking the early one. I should’ve texted. I got nervous with the-the flight. I’m sorry. Forgive me?”

[Y/N] leaned back to look at him. There was no more welcome sight in the world than Art Donaldson. Irish genetics saw to it that Art was freckled from the spring sun. With shaggy hair boyishly covered by a baseball cap tipping back dangerously, he practically glowed. Even though he looked like shit. His sunglasses were hanging on his shirt. [Y/N/] tilted her head up, signaling for a kiss. Hungrily, Art leaned forward to take as many kisses as he wanted. His lips tasted like spearmint gum. Like always.

Cheese did run downstairs when Art’s hand climbed up the side of [Y/N]’s throat and when her own hand started to squeeze from under the fabric of Art’s back left pants pocket. Art had to pull regretfully away to grab Cheese by the collar and shut the front door.

Delightedly, Art did gteet Cheese with ear-scratches and a belly rub. Art received the customary licks and a tailwags in return. Cheese was always pretty down when the whole family wasn’t together. He walked and played a bit, but when his dad wasn’t around, Cheese kind of deflated. He had spent most of the time laying flat on Art’s side of the bed. It was obvious the dog was grieving the disappearance of his boy.

When Art bent down to pat his beloved Cheese, [Y/N] stood from her chair and bent at the waist. She pulled Art’s hat off and set it on the counter. Gently, she kissed Art on top of the head. With a scratch not unlike the ones he gave to the canine to the back of Art’s neck, the man looked up at her from the ground with a half-smile.

“Congrats, baby,” [Y/N] said. Art cut his eyes curiously from her to the tennis channel on the TV playing in the next room. That had him realizing where she would have gotten the information of his win from so efficiently. “How was the tournament? I’m sorry I couldn’t—“

“Sure, sure, but I bet Cheese here is pretty glad you were home,” Art said and stood up with one final pat to Cheese’s flank. “The whole thing was great. I… I’m kind of surprised I won, if I’m being honest.” Art said, wrapping an arm around [Y/N]’s waist.

Naturally, her hands flattened against his toned chest when he tugged her towards him. “I’m not. You’re fucking good at tennis, Art.”

His ears reddened in embarrassment as he tucked his face into [Y/N]’s neck to hide his face. Art was used to praise and loved it more than anything, no matter where it came from. Every compliment from [Y/N] was worth a hell of a lot more. Art hated thinking about why that was the case. He knew why, though. She had seen he and Patrick play and even then thought Art was good. Art still won the match when it came to [Y/N] and he would never tell her that.

“Hush…” He mumbled into her neck, planting a biting, teasing kiss there. She laughed. He laughed. “I played against an eighteen year old kid yesterday. He played really well,” Art leaned back to look at her again. “You saw, I’m sure,” he indicated the TV with a nod. “He would’ve won this weekend if I hadn’t won that match. Just… I’m twenty-six. Made me feel old.”

“…Glad you won, then.”

“I said if I hadn’t…”

“Well, if you’re sooooo down on your win then congrats on flying home all by yourself like a big boy.” [Y/N] smirked.

“Oh, you’re gonna be like that, huh?” Art withdrew his hands from his wife’s body and put them teasingly on his own hips.

[Y/N] nodded. “Yeah. If you’re old, imagine how I feel.”

“Ancient, probably.”

Art leaned in for another kiss. She pushed him back playfully. “No! You called me old!” [Y/N] laughed.

She leaned one way, then the other to avoid Art’s beautifully wrinkled nose and smiling mouth. “Please? I’m sorry, I’m sorry! You’re-you’re not old!” Art said and attempted to trap her with his arms and give her a kiss.

[Y/N] turned hard over her shoulder and ran up the stairs. Cheese gave a woof from the couch when Art chased after her. Art spent his life chasing after her.

“No! You can’t kiss me! Doghouse! Bad Art! Bad!” [Y/N] accused jokingly. Art jumped up the stairs. He took them two and three at a time.

Art backed her against the bathroom door. Nowhere left to run. His rough hands settled on her hips. “Gotcha. You’re pretty fast for an old lady, y’know. Late for bingo, or—“ Art smirked when he leaned in to kiss her.

[Y/N] shut him up with a kiss. She had missed his stupid boy babbling. His mouth was soft against hers. Art put one of his hands on the wooden door beside her face to hold himself up. The other hand found her belt loop, keeping her body close to his.

“I love you,” Art whispered between kisses. “I love you so much, honey. I missed you.”

[Y/N]’s head leaned back against the door with a soft thud. Her breath caught in her throat. “I love you t—mmh!” Art leaned in for another kiss.

The joy of being Art Donaldson’s wife was that he never got tired of touching her, or being physically close. Sometimes, [Y/N] would look over at him while she was writing, or making dinner, and he would be staring, or slowly extending his hand to her and seeing how long it took for [Y/N] to acknowledge his presence. It never ceased to make her feel beautiful. “Can we…” his fingers danced over the button on her jeans.

“Can we what…?” She asked coyly.

Art blushed, but smirked and lowered his lips by [Y/N] ear. “Can we fuck? Please?” He asked too politely for as dirty as those words were. Like the good midwestern boy that he was.

She tipped her head back further. Art kissed her neck with all the energy he could muster. “Can I not make you dinner first? You-you a cheap whore as well as old now, too?” [Y/N] jeered. Art snorted a laugh. The warm air from the giggle spread over [Y/N]’s skin, causing goosebumps to raise. “I’m never letting you leave home alone again, then.”

Art nodded against her skin, sucking and licking a spot they both new would bruise dark. The sound she let out was absolutely disgusting and Art loved it. “I would prefer to never be let out of your sight, personally.” He said when he pulled away.

“Come on, house boy… We’re havin’ dinner. And you’re gonna eat some bread,” [Y/N] said, pointing a finger at Art’s chest. He started to put up a fight about the ultra-low nonexistent amount of inactive carbs he was eating during the season, but [Y/N] kept chattering. “Stop talking. Your brain doesn’t work right without carbs. Braindead. Come on, dinner.”

“You’re bad for me.”

“I know.” [Y/N] smiled.

Normally, [Y/N] drank a cup of coffee when the pair made dinner. Art knew the pattern. He made her the cup of coffee every time. It sat mostly unfinished that night, though. She found herself heating and reheating it in the microwave as they cooked. She started to space out as he recapped the tournament in full detail, as she requested. If Art noticed, he didn’t let on. [Y/N] noticed, though. Little stood between her and coffee. She didn’t want to drink it. That was violently unusual.

“Hey, I’m gonna go piss. Can you—“

“Watch the sauce?” Art asked, indicating the creamy pesto she had on the stove while Art cleaned and cut vegetables.

“Mhm.” [Y/N] confirmed. Art slid over to take the spoon from her. He placed a hand at the bottom of her back as she walked away. Art fit perfectly into her life. It wasn’t fair how right he was for her.

She went to the upstairs bathroom instead of the downstairs one. She hoped that didn’t set off Art’s sixth sense about the way-things-had-to-be. Once upstairs, [Y/N] wasted no time yanking open the medicine cabinet behind the mirror. It was overflowing, naturally. Makeup, supplements, condoms, hair ties, pill bottles, loose painkillers. It was a disaster. There was also a pregnancy test.

A laughing Art had given it to [Y/N] as a joke the morning after their wedding night and she had hit him hard enough to bruise across the chest. The test sat wrapped and in the box behind the mirror every day since. Just in case.

[Y/N] had officially arrived at just in case.

She gingerly tossed the empty box under the sink so Art wouldn’t see it without looking for it. Then, [Y/N] undid the buttons on her overalls and, well, took the test.

Lacking the time to sit and watch it come back positive or negative, [Y/N] tossed the clean cap on the stick, slid it into the pocket of her overalls, washed her hands and went downstairs like nothing was wrong.

Except she knew something was wrong. Now she felt like she had a loaded gun in her pocket. She was too cautious with her movements due to the fear that the test would slip out of her front right pocket in front of Art.

She was damn near about to step into the pantry and shut the door just to see if the pee stick had one line or two. If he wasn’t already suspicious, that would do it. [Y/N] felt that the anxiety created was easily the worst anxiety she had ever had. Oops.

[Y/N] got quiet. She was talking less and listening more. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but she was a chatterbox. Art would notice her blanched face and wrinkled brow eventually, she worried.

Ever the perceptive bastard, Art did. When he sat beside [Y/N] at the counter to eat a bowl of pasta with more inactive carbs than he had eaten in six months, he kept cutting his eyes at her. His bare foot nudged her ankle. Her dish was relatively untouched. “You good, babe? You’re being weird.”

“I’m not being weird.”

“You are being weird because you’re not being you. I’ve barely asked you how you’re doing with all the excitement. Long day?” Art asked, setting down his fork to drag his hand across the back of her shoulders.

“Yeah, a bit.” [Y/N] said. What she meant to say was I have a pregnancy test and I bet it is positive in my pocket right now and I’m so terrified that I can practically smell my pit stains right now, baby. But she didn’t say that.

Art spun to face her, taking in her expression and demeanor. There was that contemplative knot perched between his eyebrows. The back of his hand landed calmly on [Y/N]’s forehead to check her temperature. “Art…” [Y/N] said, pushing his hand down.

“No, hang on.” Art said firmly. He tried to put his hand back on her face. Instead, not having a clue what it said, [Y/N] reached into her front right pocket and slammed the pregnancy test down between them. Art retracted his hand and flinched back a bit at the sudden movement. The test was face down on the counter.

Art’s eyes cut from the test back to her. His face was suddenly very solemn. “Are you—“

“—I dunno. I didn’t-I couldn’t look. It’s been in my pocket for twenty minutes. No idea.”

“Do you think you are?”

[Y/N] shrugged and looked at her bowl. It looked too green. sick sick sick. drip drip drip said the faucet.

“Do you want to know if you are?” Art asked wide-eyed. “I want to know, personally. Do… Do you?”

Again, [Y/N] shrugged. “If we don’t look, it’s not real.”

“…That’s stupid.” Art shook his head.

“You’re stupid.”

Art sighed. “I’m gonna look. I mean, I’m going to turn it over,” his eyes frantically reached for [Y/N]’s. He grabbed her hand with his to get her attention. “I’m going to look. Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah.” She whispered and it was okay.

And she was pregnant.

Two blue lines stared at them.

“Fuck.” [Y/N] said. She felt both elated and humiliated. She wanted so badly to be a mother. She wanted to cry. How could they keep it? The timing was wrong. She hadn’t agreed to this. The two of them had so many fights about it. She barely understood how this happened. She thought they were being so careful. It didn’t make any sense. Every precaution she could think of had been taken at one point or another.

And the fucking faucet was still dripping. She could hear it. drip drip drip. Over and over.

“Fuck.” She said sliding out of her chair and standing unsteadily. That wasn’t the result one should feel when they get something they have spent so long wanting.

Art ran his hands through his hair. He knew he shouldn’t be smiling when she looked so worried. His face betrayed the wide smile he hoped to hide. That’s exactly what he wanted to see. Fuck.

“Honey… Hey, hey. You’re okay. This is awesome. C’mere.” Art said like he was diffusing a bomb. His arm were wide open to hold her.

“Art…”

“No, uh-uh. Just come here. Please.”

Cautiously, [Y/N] made her way into her favorite pair of arms in the world. “It’s not supposed to be like this.” [Y/N] choked out as Art held her.

“Shh, I know, I know,” Art said calmly. His left hand’s fingers brushed her hair away from her face. “But that’s how it is now. We have to accept that and solve for the next move, right?” It was silent for a while after that. [Y/N]’s arms were tightly wrapped around Art’s shoulders and their bowls of pasta were certainly cold. She felt that she had ruined everything.

She glanced at Art’s face. The small smile betrayed him. “Art… We can’t. Not now.” she had told Art not now so many times that it felt forced and rehearsed. Now that [Y/N] that was actually pregnant, she wanted nothing more than to stay pregnant. The timing was far from good. She had articles that were still very due the next day. She had a husband who very much traveled often for work (who she traveled with too). She had Cheese, who was staring at her weird over the back the couch because he didn’t understand crying.

“What do you mean we can’t?” Art said quietly. “We-We can. We… have. We are… Actively.” He fumbled.

“We can. We did! But… You know now’s not a good time, baby.” [Y/N] countered weakly.

Art’s hands never left [Y/N]’s waist. “Let’s run pros and cons.”

“Pretty baby.” She said accusatorially. Good old analytic Art…

“Let’s run pros and cons.” Art repeated unflinchingly. He sprang up off of his barstool to gather a sharpie and a legal pad from some drawer. Art uncapped the marker harshly with his teeth. Cap between his teeth still, he asked: “Do you want it?” while he found a clean, smooth page.

Before she could respond with her head, [Y/N] responded with her heart. She nodded a yes to him immediately. “Do you?”

Art capped the back end of the marker to free up his mouth. “More than anything ever, I think. It would probably kill me a little bit, actually, if… Yeah. I understand and it’s all up to you, honey, but… Yeah.” His hand created a PRO column and a CON column on the page.

Under PRO, Art added the items he knew would cause no trouble in his blocky capitalized handwriting:

FINALLY START FAMILY

NATURAL/EASY START

SEASON ALMOST OVER

[Y/N] HAS FLEXIBLE HRS

DREAM COME TRUE??

WILL BE GR8 PARENTS

[Y/N] nodded in approval. She couldn’t think of more pros, but Art handed her the marker and she started in on the CON list:

OLYMPICS??

ART’S NEVER HOME

EXPENSIVE

SMOKING/COFFEE

CHEESE JEALOUS?

TOO YOUNG!

Art drew the line at giving up stimulants and assigning the dog human traits and struck both of those off the list with a frown.

Frankly, Art thought the cons list turned out rude.

“I haven’t qualified for the Olympics yet,” he protested. “And if I do, imagine how early on that would be. Before all the hard stuff.”

[Y/N] replied with the thing they both knew was the most real problem. She had waited forever to say it out loud. “No offense… You are never home anymore. You’re busy all the time. Which I get. It’s your job. You’re good at your job. But look how excited the fuckin’ dog got to see you because you were gone so long. You are never here. We can’t put a human in doggy day camp all the time. It would be fucking impossible to raise—“

“I’ll quit,” Art said, wincing. He wouldn’t. [Y/N] felt that this was a bluff. He tried in vain to hide his expression of shame. “I’ll quit tennis.” He said. He wasn’t going to.

“That would worsen the problem. No money.”

“I’ll work at the 7/11. I’ll be a construction worker. I could be a fuckin’ coach. I actually have a degree, y’know, I can use it. I’m more than a racket. I don’t want you to feel alone here. I want to be here for all of it, I can—“

“You know I’m alone here a lot, babe. A lot. You don’t… You’re in a position where you’re unable to help constantly. Because you’re gone. That’s okay. I married you knowing that, right? But a baby, Art? That’s not fair.”

“I’ll bail on a season. I will. I just…” Art stared at her. “Please. I’m begging you. See this kid through with me.”

The sharpie was forgotten on the counter along with dinner. Art’s knees landed on the floor before [Y/N]. Art practically lived on his knees in front of [Y/N]. He gathered [Y/N] hands in his. “Please. It’s your call, but hear me out. Because that thing is part of both us. I don’t want you to hate or resent me or the little stinker forever, but you want it. I know that. Hear me out.” His beautiful two-tone eyes stared up at her.

“Fine. Go ahead.”

“I will give you anything. Please, my world is you. Not tennis; you. I’m telling you, I-I would leave that behind to be anything you need right now. Just ask it. You’re my fucking priority, you got that? I just.. I… Please? I’m not going anywhere.”

“I want to keep it too, but—“

“Then what’s the big deal?” Art asked hopefully.

“It isn’t a good time. It’s too soon.”

Art’s mouth trailed kisses across his wife’s stomach and hips and hands and arms. He let this go on for several minutes. “Please,” Art whimpered pathetically into the skin of her wrist. “Please, please, please. I will do anything, my love. I’m on my knees here,” Art looked up at her through thick lashes. “We can do this. Both of us together. I’ll do whatever you want. You know I will. This can be good for us. I’m really sorry we’re here, but here we are, hon. What time’s going to be the right time? Please. I love you.” Art pleaded desperately.

[Y/N] knew this was going to be a disaster. But she wanted to keep it. What time’s going to be the right time? rung in her ears over and over, like the faucet. They had put so much time into arguing about the time and the place that would be right for a family. Now it was right in front of them. Her hand caressed Art’s face. She loved it when he groveled like that. This time, on his knees and everything. On instinct, he nuzzled his face into her hand and looked up at her through long lashes.

“Will you fix the faucet? It’s been dripping all week.”

“Anything.”

“I’ll… I’ll think about it. I’m going to think about it. The baby.”

“You will?” Art’s teary eyes widened.

“Objectively, this is a terrible fucking idea. We both know that. But if it’s really so terrible, why do I feel, like… happy about it…”

Art’s face lit up. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either. [Y/N], honestly, found it very hard to say no to Art. His arms wrapped carefully around her thighs while his head rested against her middle as he knelt. [Y/N] could feel his silver ring through the denim of her overalls. “God, I love you. I love you, [Y/N]. We’re not going to regret this. Holy shit…”

“Love you too. We’re gonna… We’re gonna try, maybe? This doesn’t feel real. Does this feel real? I…”

“It feels like a dream is what it feels like,” Art mumbled into her clothes. “I love you.” Art said, pressing a kiss to her stomach.

“I love you.”

“I’m gonna be a dad…” Art almost wept. “If you, y’know, but… Shit. I’m sorry.” Which part he was apologizing for was unclear.

At that, [Y/N] laughed and tangled her fingers in his curly blonde mop of hair. “Yeah, you’re gonna be a fucking dad, pretty baby.” She smiled.

[Y/N]’s next instinct was to say: I have to call Patrick. Then she remembered couldn’t call Patrick.

TAGLIST (ask to join):

@diorrfairy @donaldsonsdarling @muthafuckingstargirl @shysstuff @soberbabes @avylanchce

apologies for tag issues. i’ll dm those it didn’t work for!

[feefivefoe]

I guess I'm unintentionally working my way up the age ladder, so Jason next-

This is the first part that contains backstory stuff I gave my reader, so unfortunately this is where a lot of the "they can be anyone" immersion dies, sorry y'all.

Genuinely, he thought he might hate you at first. Even at the preteen age of 12, where children were usually trying to start striving to independence, you had been so...bland.

It's not that you didn't stand out. Quite the contrary. Anywhere Alfred could be found, you were just a step or two behind him. A leech. Only ever speaking in a hushed voice, making the old man strain himself to hear you, surely.

He doesn't think you've ever even looked him in the eye.

It isn't until that summer he starts connecting the dots. You still cling to long sleeved shirts, pants over shorts, even when it's clear you're struggling to not overheat.

Then he catches you in the kitchen in the middle of the night, t-shirt and pajama shorts.

Burn marks, healed yet gruesome, decorate your arms and legs. Based on how they're positioned, he'd argue they probably exist on the rest of your body, too.

And yet, despite his invasion of what you clearly(?) wanted kept hidden, you merely bow your head in shame and offer a meek apology.

That's when he stops seeing you as a problem, but as a victim of consequence.

Not a bratty child who doesn't care enough about the lower class to speak to your new 'sibling,' but a lonely child who had never even once considered he might want to speak to you.

"Mister Wayne and Mister Grayson are very busy." You had said once, matter of factly rather than bitter or sad. "I'm sure they'd spend time with me if they weren't. But they have two lives, so they have less time than anybody."

He doesn't have the heart to tell you that they make time for him. And the rest of Gotham.

As you do with Alfred, you begin to shadow him. Meandering behind him without a care as to what his plans are, happy to receive the barest of acknowledgments.

You hesitate when speaking about yourself, as though taking up his time with mentions of you is an issue. He's starting to understand why.

Jason isn't sure if it's pity or growing affection that keeps him around, at first. For a while, he sees you as more of a sad, wet dog than as his family.

But you begin to connect with peers at school, finding validation outside of those that feel forced to give it to you. You mature, grow up more than you should, and realize the reality of your home life.

And Jason is thrilled! ...and...a little sad? He's happy for you, sure. Having friends is probably what you needed. People who want you around, genuinely. Who choose to make time for you.

But he'd be lying if he said that the way you used to stare at him didn't make him feel like a hero. Like he was doing so much, changing your world, simply by existing.

You still speak, of course. You're friendly siblings that get along well. You give him various foods you've tried making, courtesy of Alfred inspiring a desire to learn to cook and bake on your own. You talk about books you've read together, and listen intently while he rambles about his favorites.

You even peek in after particularly rough patrol nights, just to make sure he's gotten through it okay.

But it isn't...quite the same. No, but it's...it's for the best.

And he is still a hero! As Robin, he's protecting the whole city alongside Batman!

So he's still a hero.

He's still your hero.

"Jay? I was wondering if I could ask you for some help. The show my club is doing is one of those old books you like-"

"They aren't that old."

"-and my character doesn't show up much in the movie-"

"You watched the MOVIE before reading the book!?"

"-so I wanted to ask if you'd help me with characterization!"

He remembers groaning at you and rolling his eyes. "I'm busy tonight. Go watch the dumb, BAD, movie again." He pauses. "Uh, but I can tomorrow. I'll make sure I don't have anything planned, promise."

He saw you pause, and sees the constant same promises pass through you.

"I...have other arrangements. I'll make it up to you next time."

"Ah...sorry, kiddo! Big kid stuff. But next time! You trust your big bro, yeah?"

But this is Jason. Jason doesn't lie to you.

Jason keeps his promises.

You smiled. "Yeah. Tomorrow."

...

Then he died.

[peachysunrize]

[TANGERINE DREAMS]

Summary: being stood up on his wedding day, Aemond’s life takes a turn for the worse. Heartbroken and humiliated, he finds unexpected help in Helaena’s childhood friend, who helps him move back into his family mansion. Summer cocktail parties and a long stay at the Targaryen residency, Aemond might let the girl who’s always been in his life make a home in his heart.

Tangerines, in general, symbolize prosperity, good luck and happiness. So if these delicious fruits appear in your dreams - whole or in the form of juice - it is usually very positive. A dream with tangerines expresses the desire and the possibility of progress and prosperity

Warnings: none! Fluff, angst, tension! English isn’t my first language<3

Word count: 5.4k+

A/n: so so sorry for the delay… unfortunately I’m gonna be awfully busy this week so the next chapter might be also delayed😭 buttttttt hopefully this chapter will make up for it! Reblogs & comments are always appreciated <3

Taglist: if you wanna be tagged in the future chapters, please fill this form with your username!

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Chapter 4: push & pull

“I’m hungry!”

“Shh!” You put your finger on Helaena’s lips to keep her quiet, “you ate all of our snacks! How are you still hungry?”

“I don’t knowwww,” she whines, dropping her head back on your lap as you resume the movie, “I need sweets!”

“It’s three in the morning, I doubt you want to wake up the entire house just to find a chocolate bar,” you thread your fingers through her soft and freshly showered silver hair.

“Babe,” she turns around, reaching for the control to pause the movie before she looks up at you, “why do you think we live in a mansion in the first place?”

“Because you have billions of money and have no idea what to do with it?” You ask, chuckling and rolling your eyes affectionately when she slaps your arm, “as if there is another reason behind it.”

“Of course there is!” She sits up, plopping a pillow next to yours as she sits shoulder to shoulder with you, “Aemond is an awfully light sleeper, so is Mum! Aegon would even sleep through… I don’t know, imagine Michael Jackson screaming in a mic and putting the amplifier next to his ear. Daeron is the best, heavy sleeper but his survival instinct would save him from anything. Me—“

“You don’t sleep at all,” she gawks at you before laughing, “What? You think I don’t know my best friend like the back of my hand? Or why we’re watching The Dance of Dragons trilogy at this god-awful hour? I’m offended!”

She pushes you playfully, “That’s not what I meant! You’re right, I don’t sleep much, but that’s not the point. I’m saying living in a mansion is quite cool because we put Mum and Aemond at the back of the building and chose our rooms afterward. So if you sneak into the kitchen…”

“I’m not gonna sneak there and shuffle around your cabinets like a fucking thief, Hel!” 

“It’s literally your home too! You’ve been here a thousand times, no one would bat an eye if they catch you going through Aegon’s snacks!” She says, pouting a bit as she gives you her best puppy eyes, “One bag of his gummy bears, just one!”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No,” you glare at her, scoffing immediately when she gives you her most precious smile.

“Yes, please?”

“Absolutely fucking not,” you hiss, “Besides, I have no clue which cabinet I should search for.”

“The one next to the stove—“

“Helaena!”

“Please please please, I will take a walk with you in the morning—“

“I’m not dumb, why should going on a walk with you be anywhere near interesting?” You ask, crossing your arms on your chest as you give her a pointing look.

“Because… because I can take you shopping! You know, Aegon will probably give a theme for his party so what better reason than to go on a girl’s date and buy some clothes?!”

“No, and no—“

“One bag, that’s all I’m asking!”

“Fine!” She squeals in joy, “but you will make it up to me, you giant twenty-seven-year-old kid. And shopping is the least you can do.”

“Okay, babe, whatever you want! I can even set you up with one of Aegon’s friends—“

“I'll take the walk, please! Keep those boys away from me,” You stand up from the bed, shaking your head before you slowly turn the doorknob, and before you step out, you look at her and shake your head when you see her lying on the bed with her hands under her chin.

You look at the empty hallway, checking to see if anyone is around or not before walking downstairs, tiptoeing to make sure you wake up no one. Gripping the stair bars, you relax a bit when the wooden stairs don’t make a loud cracking sound.

The path to the kitchen is quiet and empty, but with the numerous vases and other home decor Alicent has put around the house, it’s hard to move around without breaking something or making a loud noise. You have been here many times, but the paintings and various pieces they have will always surprise you; they are so beautiful, and you expect nothing less from the Targaryens.

You finally reach the kitchen, slowly making your way towards the stove to find the cabinet or a drawer — because only those are next to the stove — Helaena told you about. Pulling the first drawer out, you find nothing but forks and spoons, nothing near a good snack, unfortunately. The next one contains spices and herbs, arranged neatly in jars with labels.

“What are you doing here?”

“Fucking hell!” You scream and turn around, hand on your chest as you look at Aemond who is equally surprised to see you here at such an hour, “you scared the shit out of me!”

“Shh…” he approaches you slowly, reaching to take your hand in his to calm you down, “I’m sorry, I thought you heard me, or even saw me.”

“How could I see you? My back was to you!” You exhale shakily, letting him take your hands in his larger ones, slowly caressing your skin, “what are you doing here? Creeping on me like that?”

“I was in the kitchen when you walked in,” he says, his lips twisting in a small smirk as he sees your lips part in shock.

“How did I not see you?” You gawk at him, laughing breathlessly, “You’re a giraffe, tall as fuck and your hair shines like a flashlight! Were you hiding?”

“No, no,” he steps closer, chuckling lowly to not make so much sound, your hands still in his, “I was searching for a cutting board.”

“What?” You smile a bit, looking up at him as he towers over you, “I’m really curious now.”

“No, you’re just nosy,” he smirks when he sees you open your mouth to disagree, but you catch on his teasing tone quickly and bat his hands away.

“Asshole.”

“I’m kidding,” with a kiss on the back of your hand, he moves past you to put the cutting board on the kitchen island, “I missed dinner and couldn’t sleep either so…”

“You wanna cook dinner? Now?” you ask him, rounding the island to stand close to him, “You are crazy!”

“I’m hungry,” he groans, shaking his head as he moves to another cabinet and pulls out a pot to fill it with water.

“What is up with you Targaryens being hungry at such an hour?” You lean on the counter, watching him put the full pot on the stove, taking your time to look at him from head to toe.

He is wearing a loose black T-shirt, with gray sweatpants that stay low on his hip bones. His silver hair is clipped and his glasses are on the bridge of his nose — he looks so cozy and welcoming, and he most certainly glides across the room so effortlessly, pulling out different ingredients to chop.

“What did Hel want anyway?” He asks, pulling out an onion and placing it on the cutting board next to you, leaning just like you with his hips on the counter.

“How did you know she wanted something?” You ask, crossing your arms.

“I doubt you’d come and snoop around for Aegon.”

“Why not?” You raise an eyebrow at him, taking a step closer to him, “Maybe I was in his room, what then—“

“No,” he whispers, putting the knife down before he puts one hand on each side of your hips, the heel of his palm on the dip between where your thighs meet your hips and his fingers against the kitchen island — not gripping you fully, but enough to make you tremble slightly, especially with the way he looks at you, so raw and playful, “you wouldn’t allow him to make a single flirty comment, and you want me to believe that you just left his room?”

“What if I have changed my mind?” You look up at him through your lashes, voice barely above whispering, “Maybe I have fallen for his Targaryen charm?”

“The only Targaryen charm you’ll fall for is—”

“Babeee!” suddenly Helaena’s hushed whisper echoes in the kitchen

Your eyes widen and in the blink of an eye, you push Aemond away and move to the cabinet Helaena told you about earlier, trying to make yourself look busy while Aemond puts his palms on top of the island, leaning down a bit as he sighs, his face forming into a deep scowl as he watches his sister tiptoe into the kitchen.

“Oh, hey, Aemy,” she waves at him, finally finding you crouched down next to the cabinet, “What’s taking you so long?”

“I couldn’t find the cabinet—” “It’s the one you are sitting in front of,” she says, smiling as she looks at her brother reaching for the knife, “and what are you doing here?”

“I was hungry,” he mutters, slicing the onion in half, “What do you want?”

“My promised gummy bears and a glass of water,” she shrugs and walks to grab her glass and you take the chance to stand up with her snack, standing side by side with Aemond, both of you following Helaena’s movements as she hums happily and fills her glass with water.

You glance at Aemond, catching him already looking at you with an unreadable expression that makes the hair on the back of your neck rise. Averting your eyes quickly, you watch Hel making her way to you before she gives you a quick hug.

“I’m going to bed, we will finish them another day.” “Sure, love,” you smile, “I’ll go to bed in a few minutes too, goodnight!”

“Goodnight,” Aemond says quietly, moving towards the boiling water on the stove before he drops uncooked spaghetti in it and walks back to the cutting board.

“What are you cooking?” 

“Penne alla vodka,” he replies, smirking when you roll your eyes at him.

“Of course, typical classy Aemond,” you say, groaning a bit because of how tired you are, “your sister is a menace for keeping me up so long. I can’t even stand on my feet!”

“Then you don’t have to stand,” he says casually, wiping his hands with the cloth hanging from the waistband of his sweats. He moves closer to you, backing you up against the kitchen island with a teasing look in his good eye, his hands coming up to grip your waist and before you know it, he picks you up effortlessly and sits you on the island, his fingers digging into your flesh.

You swallow, bracing yourself by your hands on his chest as you look at Aemond, finding him standing closer to you between your legs, his eye focusing solely on your face — how your lips part with a quiet gasp falling from them, how your pupils are blown with something he can’t read quite well. 

You are a vision to behold.

He leans closer, his face mere inches away from yours, his hot breath fanning against your face. You inhale sharply when he cranes his neck and his nose bumps into yours, his hooded eye hazy as he stares at you.

His grip tightens on your waist, and you feel his fingers caressing your back and the side of your tummy slowly, almost shyly, but with his lips only one breath, you know there is no shyness left within him, only determination.

As soon as he wants to lean down and capture your lips in a breathtaking kiss, the pasta in the oven is long overcooked and the boiling water pours out, making a loud hissing sound that makes Aemond break apart from you.

“Shit,” he groans, the warmth of his hand gone from your waist as he jogs to the stove and lifts the pot to empty the remaining water of the pasta, cursing himself in his head with how careless he acted — not only he nearly ruined your friendship but also his late dinner will taste like an uncooked dough.

“I-I think I should go to bed,” you stutter, jumping down from the island, smiling awkwardly at him, “goodnight.”

“Yeah, goodnight,” he watches you leave in a hurry, running a hand down his face — mindful of his glasses — he sighs loudly, “What the fuck was I thinking?”

If only he knew the answer to this.

“Okay kids, listen up!” Aegon claps his hands, stepping on top of the huge table in the guest wing’s living room, trying his best to give the four of you — six if you count Criston and Alicent — a very very pointed, dramatic and serious look, “tonight, we will drink!”

He points at Daeron and Aemond who are each holding two bottles of whatever drinks, or poison to put it better, Aegon has chosen to feed you tonight.

“Tonight, we will dance!” He points at Helaena who rolls her eyes and presses play on her phone so the music blasts through the amplifiers around the house but quickly pauses it so Aegon can talk.

“Annnnndddd!” He jumps down, striding towards you with a mischievous glint in his blue eyes. He grabs you by your waist, twirls you around suddenly, and dips you down on his arm before he leans down, “We will have fun!” He leans to kiss you, but you put your palm on his face and push him away roughly, laughing out loud with him when you make a gagging sound.

“Get away from me you moron!”

“I’m sure my kisses would make you feel much better—”

“I rather die than have your tongue down my throat,” you stand behind Aemond, and when Aegon sees how hard his brother is glaring at him, he whistles and wiggles his eyebrows at the two of you — Aemond blushes horribly and you only give a tight-lipped awkward smile.

“Alright!” Alicent says, walking towards the table Aegon was standing up to fix the tablecloth, “I know you’ll take care of everything, but—” she looks at Aegon, “no drugs,” she then turns to Daeron and Helaena, “No sneaking out of the house,” then she looks at Aemond, “no goddamn books!” “I don’t even read that much,” Aemond sighs, putting the vanilla vodka bottles on the table before he crosses his arms, “I haven’t had the time to read even one book.” “I don’t care, Aemond. No books, no workshop, no merging with the darkness and sulking in a corner of this house. Okay?”

“Yes, Mum, I get it,” he agrees, turning around to glance at you, only for you to give him an encouraging smile.

“Now that we’re all settled,” Aegon reaches and throws his arm around Alicent’s shoulder, “take out dinner, obviously—”

“What do you mean ‘take out’? I didn’t hire a chef for you to say you’ll get our guests nasty food,” Alicent frees herself from Aegon, giving him one last look before she moves with Cole on toe towards the exit, “Also, the catering will be here soon, if you wanna help, you’ll need to wait a bit for them.” “Did you hear that?” Aegon asks, eyes wide and a very large grin finds its way on his face.

“Billionaires have such a hard life, I pity you guys,” You say sarcastically, “what’s up with these faces? You don’t like having a private chef?”

“Babe,” Helaena comes and grabs your hand, “This means Mum really wants us to party! She only gets this generous when she wants us to have fun.” “A private chef is a pretty great thing,” Aemond shrugs, grabbing yet another two bottles of vanilla vodka with a grimace on his face and putting them down next to the other two.

“No shit Sherlock! Of course, it’s amazing! Who wouldn’t want a fresh plate of ribs in the middle of a partially illegal party?” he chuckles at you, nodding at the catering that finally arrived, putting his warm palm on your waist.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I am always in charge of dinner because these three,” he points at his siblings, “get absolutely hammered and won’t be able to order takeout.”

“I knew Helaena would get drunk if she set her mind to it but Daeron?” you ask leaning closer to his side, looking up at him, and occasionally glancing at the other three siblings who are helping the catering staff with the food and drinks.

“He is a mixed… combination of all of us,” he chuckles, his nails digging into your waist as he scratches your skin under your shirt gently, lit the fire of the memory of a few hours ago you shared, “He doesn’t drink much but when he does… well, rest assured he gets as bad and loud as Aegon.”

“I’ve been here countless times but never seen him acting like an idiot,” you laugh, walking to grab the closest tray to help with the setting. Aemond does the same and follows you around the room quietly, making small talk with you until everything is set and ready for the party.

You and him walk forward, and for the first time he doesn’t guide you with his hand on your back, and you see how he is pondering hard about something.

“He wanted to really kiss you,” he whispers for only you to hear. You stop and a soft yet confused expression overtakes your face as you look at him, waiting for him to continue.

“What?” “Aegon,” he says, “he likes you, maybe he would have gotten away with it if you let him kiss you.”

“Aemond, don’t be ridiculous,” you grab his wrist gently, forcing him to stop, “I said it once, I’ll say it again; I don’t like Aegon romantically, and I would rather die than let him get close to my face.”

He doesn’t look too convinced, so with one glance at your back to see where your best friend and the rest of her siblings are, you hold his other hand in yours as well, “Besides, I would rather kiss another Targ—” “Go find some clothes, kids! It’s a white party!” Aegon announces, and Helaena suddenly appears out of nowhere and wraps her arms around you, making you let go of Aemond’s hands immediately.

“Come on, babe! Let’s go get ready!” you don’t have time to finish your sentence so with one last look at Aemond, you leave with Hel towards your rooms to get ready.

Aemond pulls shirt after shirt out of his closet, all of them are either black or dark green and those who are colorful are blue. Nothing. He can’t find anything to wear and it has started to annoy him.

He sits on the edge of his bed, his hair unruly and in need of a good brush but that can wait. His outfit on the other hand can’t, and the fact that Aegon’s guests will arrive in a few minutes is driving him crazy. 

With a loud annoyed groan, he stands up and moves toward his hung clothes, searching through them, but again, all he can find is a pair of white sneakers that thankfully will go with any outfit he chooses.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he tries to think of any Shirts or pants he can find, but he is interrupted by a knock on his door.

“Hey,” you open the door a bit, smiling at him before slipping inside, but before you can stop yourself, your eyes roam over his topless figure leaning over the closet with his sweat hanging low on his hips.

Aemond is even worse than you; seeing you in a white sundress with sheer sleeves that hung low on your shoulders and the dress reaching your mid-thighs… he is speechless. His eye roams over your figure slowly, taking in the sight of you.

He can see how you get shy all of a sudden, caressing your arm as he literally looks you up and down.

“How do I look?” you ask, twirling to show the back of the dress as well.

“Wow,” breathtaking, gorgeous, mindblowing, earth-shattering, “Beautiful,” you make his heart nearly leap out of his chest, his cheeks turning pink as he gazes at you like a teen boy experiencing his first high school crush.

“Thank you!” you smile, rocking on your feet, “Why aren’t you dressed?”

“Well,” he clears his throat, “I couldn’t find anything.”

“Bullshit!”

“Excuse me?” he asks hesitantly, watching you curiously as you make your way to his wardrobe, standing in front of him to search within his clothes yourself.

“You wore those white shorts to the winery, hmmm, let me see—” You pull out a white shirt with baggy pants, both enough to make him much taller than he is, but he has to agree that the simplicity might actually look great, “here you go! But let me brush your hair first!”

You sit him down on the bed, crawling behind him with a brush and a hair tie you found on his vanity desk before you start slowly combing through his soft hair, detangling and making it look more presentable. 

He relaxes under your touch and lets you pull the front of his hair back and tie it so his face is shown more. He sighs and thanks you when you’re done, and to his surprise, you grab the shirt from him, forcing him to stand up to help him put it on, leaving the first few buttons undone before you do the rest slowly.

“Were you jealous?” You ask, letting your fingers brush over his pale chest, “When you saw Aegon wanted to kiss me?”

He swallows but as soon as you are done he pulls away and holds the pants up, signaling for you to leave so he can change, and you do but wait for him outside until he is ready.

“Maybe,” he says as you loop your arm through his, both of you walking toward the guest wing. You can already hear the blasting hip hop song Aegon is playing, the sounds of screaming and singing already filling the entire mansion.

“Really?” You ask quietly, letting go of his hand as soon as you reach the door, finding a few of Aegon’s friends around.

“I don’t know, I said maybe,” he moves away from you with one last smirk and enters the party. The smell of alcohol, cigarette, and smoke fills his lungs, and soon spots Daeron and Aegon mixing cocktails and handing them to the guests. Helaena is busy talking to an old friend of his, Cregan Stark, and she is all blushy and giggly while she sips on her drink — he makes a mental note to check up on her regularly.

“Here is our boyyyy!” One of Aegon’s friends screams and throws his arm around Aemond’s shoulders, shaking him as everyone erupts in joy and laughter, a shot of whiskey is thrusted into his hands and everyone is suddenly encouraging him to drown the drink in one go.

“Come on, Aemy! Don’t be a fucking pussy!” Aegon screams over the music, and with one final sigh, he brings the glass to his lips and empties the drink down his throat, making everyone around him scream and clap him on the back before they start shouting for another shot, which Daeron pours for him and as the first one, he drowns it again.

“That’s my fucking brother!” Aegon suddenly jumps onto an empty table, completely topless with two bottles of vodka in his hands as he screams and cheers for Aemond while holding the bottles up.

“He is so fucking insane!” Daeron shakes his head when Aegon starts rolling his hips to the music, his silver hair covered in sweat and possibly alcohol as he flexes his abs and chest for the girls.

“He is disgusting,” Aemond sighs, watching amusedly as Aegon jumps down and wraps his arms around two girls, moving to dance with them while their hands wander all over his body.

Aemond looks around and finds you and Helaena on the dance floor, clearly drunk out of your mind with how you are laughing and moving around. He drowns the rest of his drink before he sneaks out of the party, moving outside toward his workshop to clear his head, but before that, he goes back to the main building and grabs a bottle of water to sober up.

He finds Vhagar already waiting for him at the entrance, wiggling her tail when she notices Aemond. He crouches down to pet her softly, scratching behind her ears and kissing her furs before he stands up and moves to the backyard, his old lady following him quickly.

On their way to the workshop, they find Aegon and the two girls sneaking upstairs, making out with one while the other caresses his skin. Aemond rolls his eye in disgust as he moves past them, finding a pair of heels on the ground as she enters the small wood attached to their yard after where the Weirwood tree is.

He walks further inside the woods, following the path he once walked with you which leads to his workshop, Vhagar happily accompanies him there, even jogging and running past him numerous times to show her enthusiasm — she just loves being around him.

He notices a shadow in the workshop, moving around clumsily as it touches and picks different things up. He thinks it might be one of Aegon’s dumbass friends, wandering around their house drunk and exhausted. But how did someone, anyone find the key to unlock the door?

He opens the door, catching you of all the people snooping around his stuff, smiling when you find a pretty seven-pointed star keychain with Alicent’s name carved under it — he remembers when he made that. He was only seventeen, and he had moved past that amateur phase and got a grip on the woodwork and different types of it. What better way to celebrate his Mum’s birthday than gifting her something he made from scratch?

“Hey you,” he says slowly, not wanting to frighten you like he did this morning, “And what are you exactly doing here?”

“Look who’s here,” you turn around opening your arms, burping as you talk, showing how good Aegon’s cocktail must have been to get you this giddy, “sorry, Little nerd! I saw this really really pretty place and couldn’t help myself! Isn’t it strange that no one uses here? Urgh, what I would do to stay here.”

“Alright, darling, don’t pout,” he slowly reaches to grab your arm so you don’t trip over anything and fall down, “How did you get in here?”

“Did you just—” you gasp, letting him pull you to his side, “did you just call me darling?”

“Yes, I did,” he nods, keeping you secure on your feet before he offers you the water bottle, urging you to drink from it, “have this, clearly you need it more than I do.”

“What a gentleman! Thank you,” you say, taking a large sip after he helps you open the bottle, the cold water makes you feel slightly better so you drink the rest too, not sobering up completely but enough to remember where you are and who you are with and more importantly remember what you are doing.

“So, how did you get in here?” Aemond asks again, taking the empty bottle from you before tossing it for Vhagar, who happily claws at the plastic, jumping on it before she takes it outside to bury it somewhere — which Aemond would need to find later.

“Found a spare key under that vase,” you pointed at the vase outside his door on the floor, “You are not as slick as you think, Aemond, calling me darling and everything.”

“Do you want me to stop calling you that?” he asks playfully, watching you bite your lips in response, shaking your head slightly, “then I guess I won’t.”

You look around the workshop and find a wooden pallet with half a portrait carved on it. The lines are oddly familiar, a woman perhaps because of the details put in the jaw, and the hair looks so delicate and soft.

“Wow, Aemond…” You free yourself from his arms and move to take a closer look at the half-done wooden portrait, “Did you make this?”

“Yes…” he answers, rubbing the back of his neck in shame or perhaps anxiousness, because what if you recognize who the person is? All of his efforts will be in vain. What will you think of him? A boy with nothing better than observing women? A pervert?

“This is fascinating!” you keep looking at the wooden pallet but something catches your eye; a printed black and white picture of the person’s portrait, but before you can reach for it, Aemond grabs your forearm and pulls you away roughly.

You gasp as he pulls you between him and the desk the portrait and all of his stuff are on. His breathing is frantic, and his long fingers hold your forearm tight enough not to hurt you.

You look up at him, lips parted, a scene too familiar — this morning, so close to each other, one mingling breath away yet too far — but there is a fire burning within him, a newfound determination that makes his heart beat faster and his hands shake.

He is not a weak mean, quite the contrary, but when he looks down at you, catching how your gaze falls on his lips… he is no better than any other man.

He leans down a little, the sounds of the outside world fading away as he moves his face closer, and he notices how you slowly twist your arm out of his grasp, only to move them toward his chest, and he takes the sign and reaches to hold you by your waist, his nose bumping into yours as the distance between you decreases

You smell so sweet, like strawberry on a whipped cream once Aegon fed him when he was feeling down. It’s sweet but not too much to have him run away, to shy away from such a delicious taste. Will your lips taste the same if he musters the courage to just move down a bit and finds it by himself?

“Aemond…” One whisper of his name is all it takes for his restraint to shatter into a million pieces, and finally, finally, he leans down enough to capture your lips in a quick kiss. Both of you waiting for waited breath to see who will lean in, give in, and take what they want

Both, you both lean in, meeting each other halfway as your lips meet in a chaste messy kiss.

You taste so sweet just as he thought, but not just a strawberry tooth rooting sweet, no. you taste like a fresh cold morning breeze on a summer day, you feel like a cold shower after an exhausting day — so refreshing, so… so much like home. As if he has only found the solace he has been seeking with Alys for so long but something has always been amiss, but with you… oh, one kiss is enough for him to know how wrong he was.

You tangle your fingers through his hair, and he takes the chance to sit you on the desk, but by doing so, he knocks a little vase on the ground, and you freeze.

You pull away from the kiss, muttering his name but he doesn’t let you say anything before he seals his lips to yours in an endearing kiss. But you push him away by putting your hands on his chest, making enough room for you to talk.

“Aemond, we can’t—” “What do you mean we can’t?” He asks, panicking a little but you manage to ease his mind with a quick kiss, “What do you mean, darling?” He asks again, voice barely above whispering.

“I don’t want to be your rebound…” you pull him down enough so his forehead rests on yours, “I don’t want to be the person who you fuck just after you’ve been dumped.”

“You’re… you’re not that, you will never be that! Alys—“

“Alys… you’re still not over her, Little nerd,” you caress his cheek lovingly, pressing a gentle kiss on the apple of his cheek before you push him away and put a great distance between the two of you, and with teasr in your eyes you say one last sentence and leave.

“You still love Alys.”

[moonlightazriel]

Baby bumps and cookie crumbs /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Azriel comes home from a mission to find his mate bonding with his family.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,2K

Notes: A little Christmas spirit for this blog since my Christmas won’t be that good.

Main Masterlist

Azriel sighed, removing his boots by the door, the house quiet, the only sound being the soft steps as his feet made it to the master bedroom. Whenever he came home from a mission he would find her there, tangled in the blankets, snoring softly and with a serene expression adorning her beautiful face.

But to his surprise, the house was empty, his warrior instincts kicking in. He held the truth teller in between his fingers, searching around the house for her, but she wasn’t anywhere. Her scent was the only lingering in the air, which made him relax a bit.

With solstice preparations she was probably out in town, but he couldn’t help thinking the worst whenever she was out of his sight. As if sensing his distress, he felt three pulls in his chest, and the bond hummed with life. He took a deep breath, going back to the bedroom so he could have a bath.

A knock sounded by the door, and Azriel went to answer, towel hanging on his hips and another one drying his hair. He opened the door, rolling his eyes at Cassian’s whistle.

“If I knew you would be in the shower, I would’ve come earlier.” He mocked, shoving Azriel aside so he could make himself comfortable on his couch.

“Where’s my mate?” He asked, leaving Cassian in the living room so he could get dressed.

“At the River House, everyone’s there.” Cassian's voice was muffled, and when Azriel got back to the living room, fully dressed and fixing the beanie over his hair, Cassian had a whole cupcake in his mouth.

“Hey, those were mine.” He slapped Cassian’s head.

“It’s not my fault your mate cooks like an angel.” Cassian cleaned the frosting around his mouth and aimed for the door. “I was sent to get you, so let’s go.”

“After you.” Azriel motioned for him to go first, locking the door behind him.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Indeed everyone was there, the house filled with joy and laughter, the whole place was warm, and he thanked Lucien mentally, cuz the short flight to the River House was cold even for him. The redhead was by the fireplace, shoving wood into the fire.

“Hey man, thanks for that, it’s freezing out there.” Cassian said, squeezing Lucien’s shoulder, to which the male just smiled, nodding his head.

“Azriel!” He greeted, and he greeted back. He wanted to find his mate, his body buzzing with energy to be with her. “Y/N is in the kitchen with the other females.” Lucien winked and Azriel thanked him.

He crossed the house until reaching the kitchen, pushing the double doors open, the space was a mess, Feyre was sitting with a happy smile, sipping in her wine. Nesta was by her side, resting her head on her shoulder, the two sisters watched the scene unfold.

With a thin layer of flower covering her hair, Y/N was giggling, pinching Nyx’s cheeks as the boy screamed in joy. Elain was by her side, trying to mix what looked like cookie dough.

“Now, help aunt Elain with the chocolate chips.” She gave him the package and the boy slowly added them into the mix.

Azriel took a deep breath, the smell of pastries, wine and life growing filled his senses. Y/N turned to him, her face glowing in happiness as she spotted him watching her from the doorway.

She walked to him, and she tried to wrap her hands around his neck to pull him in for a hug, but a 9 months pregnant belly got in the way, preventing her from holding him like she wanted, making her adorably pout.

“I love our baby, but I can’t wait to get rid of this belly.” She smiled and Azriel felt his heart melting.

“Maybe this helps?” He suggested turning her around and hugging her from behind, head resting in the crook of her neck and hands cupping her belly, holding the weight for her. Y/N leaned into him, moaning a bit too loudly.

“Ew, get a room.” Nesta groaned.

“When you’re carrying a baby and your mate holds the weight for you, let’s see if you’re not going to be moaning like a lady from the pleasure hall.” Feyre poked her sister’s side, prompting Nesta to wiggle away from her.

“Uncle Az.” Little Nyx grabbed his legs, making grabby hands towards the male. Azriel scoped him up, kissing the boy’s cheek.

“How are you doing buddy?” The boy looked at him.

“We’re making bat cookies. Aunty Y/N and Aunty Elain are the best at making them.” Y/N giggled.

“Only because we have the best assistant in the world.” Nyx turned to her, lowering his body until he kissed her belly.

“When I’ll get to play with my cousin?” He asked and his mother shimmed in, grabbing him from Azriel’s lap.

“Soon baby, soon. Now let’s get clean for dinner.” She took the baby away.

“You should get cleaned too, you’re covered in flour.” He pulled her as close as possible, brushing the white powder from her head. He lowered until he captured her lips in a gentle kiss. “I missed you two.”

She reached for his face, caressing his cheek, tracing the contour of his lips, like she could never get enough of looking at him.

“We missed you too, Azzy.” The shadowsinger led his mate to the dinner room where everyone was gathering. He scooted his chair closer to hers, never wanting to be apart, resting a hand on her belly.

“How is little Cassian doing?” The male asked, turning his attention to her.

“They are just fine, Cassian, we don’t know if it’s a boy or not.” She started.

“And…” Azriel sipped on his wine. “We’re not naming our child after you.”

“What?” Cassian scoffed. “Why not? And I’m sure it’s a boy.”

“No one knows that for sure Cass.” Y/N pointed, and Elain cleared her throat.

“I know.” She simply stated. “I had a vision last week.”

“You know?” Azriel asked in shock.

“Do you guys want me to tell you? I’m totally fine with keeping it a secret if that’s what you wish.” She smiled sweetly at them, Lucien had an arm around her shoulder in reassurance as Elain was still very shy about her powers.

Az looked at Y/N, the two didn’t need to have Daemati powers to communicate silently, they just knew each other that well.

“We do.” The two said in union. Elain felt her cheeks hot as all the eyes were on her now.

“You are going to be having a boy.” She shyly replied, just to be startled by Cassian's loud cheer, smacking the table.

“I told you little Cassian is on the way.” He pointed to the couple, forcing them to laugh along with him.

“Thanks Elain, that means a lot.” Y/N replied, smiling widely to the female.

That night, the family celebrated the new member, drinking wine and eating bat cookies that tasted absolutely delicious. And when Azriel took his mate home later that night, warming himself in her soft embrace. He ran his fingers through her hair.

“Our little boy will be here soon.” She whispered.

“I can’t wait to meet him.” He kissed her, feeling his chest full with love. “Our precious little boy.”

[show-your-fangs]

What about a teenage!Jack where his friends are over and keep commenting how his Mom (reader) is attractive and Aaron finds it funny but Jack is mortified?

this is fucking GOLD. enjoy another installment of moments au

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x f!Reader

Words: 665

CW: nothing, cursing mostly.

Tags/warnings: jack's friends being pervs, cursing, jack defending his mom and dad.

Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.

Aaron honestly couldn’t blame them. He honestly found it funny, how their cheeks would flush every time you walked past, seconds away from catching them saying the most inappropriate things about you. He knew they didn’t know he could hear them from his office, the angle keeping him hidden as he tried to work while also allowing for their voices to carry down the hall. 

Jack had brought his friends over for a pool day and he’d requested that the two of you leave them alone, that they could fend for themselves. But as much as he’d pleaded, you were still unable to stop yourself.

You’d made them snacks, prepared a homemade ice tea, would check in every so often to make sure they were doing okay. And every time, without fail, his friends would pretend to be utter gentlemen, thanking you profusely until you left them alone once more and they turned from the kids their parents through they were into the horny teenagers they really were. 

It became clear to Aaron immediately why Jack didn’t want you around. It had nothing to do with his independence but rather the fact that his friends clearly didn’t know how to act around his mom. They’d made every inappropriate comment a teenage boy could come up with, and every time Jack would groan or roll his eyes or politely ask them to chill. But every time you showed your face the comments would start up again. 

It was after lunch when shit hit the fan. You’d ordered a big family meal style delivery, had set up the large containers in the kitchen, with the boys’ help which they were eager to give, and had made a plate for yourself and Aaron. They thought you couldn’t hear them in the kitchen, thought they were being so slick, but they should’ve known better than to not wait for you to exit the room. 

“I still don’t know how your dad bagged her,” Eric started, clearly teasing. “She’s just so—”

“So out of his league,” Dylan finished and the two of them snickered together. 

“If I had a step mom like that…” Nick sighed and the other two chuckled, no words needed for the four of them to know what he wanted to say. Jack couldn’t help but cringe, the mere thought of his stupid friends thinking about you this way appalling. 

“You boys need anything else?” you said loudly from the kitchen, a cue for them to stop talking as you pushed the door open with your hip. 

“We’re okay, thanks mom,” Jack’s voice was chipper like it always was with you, always soft and kind. His friends’ immediately perked up at your requests, their eyes sparkling with what you could only imagine were requests that you definitely didn’t want to know about. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Hotchner,” they practically sang in unison, their teasing only getting more pronounced as you walked down the hall, desperately trying not to give them anything else to talk about, but apparently that was completely useless.

“Check out her ass—”

“Shut the fuck up, dude,” you heard Jack groan, his patience finally running thin. His friends stilled in an instant, your instinct to fix it slowly creeping up from your heart to your brain. But Aaron was quick, his hand wrapped around your waist before you could move. “How would you like it if I talked about your mom like that?”

Silence. 

“That’s what I thought,” he stated, confident. “So can you please just stop it?”

His words were followed by a string of mumbles and murmurs in agreement, ashamed apologies and admissions of guilt. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle, Aaron quickly pulling you into his office so the two of you could erupt in a fit of giggles. It was cute, almost too adorable that the boy you’d met so long ago was now defending your honor to his friends, was standing up for his mom, for his dad, for his family. 

okay i'm trying to get through some of the requests. i apologize for not being as active, you know how fanfiction authors' lives go off the rails sometimes.

i'm going to try and post a few of these before my "taking some time off" announcement. i've got a big week coming up but know i am trying.

tag list: @ssamorganhotchner, @canuck-eh, @cr1minalskies, @xladyxdreamer

[starrynights-sunnyskies]

⋆*·ﾟI heard it in your silence... misa x putellas!femreader

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

when misa watches the girl she's crushed on for years retreat into her own shadows, she knows something is wrong.

or; part of the as the flowers bloom, my heart does too universe (can be read as standalone)

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

Misa’s perceptive eyes were glued to you sitting across the room as soon as your laugh reached her ears over the loud chatter and music. With your hand slapped to your mouth to hide that gorgeous smile of yours, probably out of some hidden insecurity, you leaned into your friends. You seemed to add something to one of their comments before laughter commenced again. With your eyes squeezed shut in glee and your head falling back, Misa was reminded of why she'd ever developed such a crush on you. She couldn't help but let the corners of her mouth pull into the faintest smile. Your radiant joy was contagious, if anything. And the need to be in or around your orbit was addictive to her, at best.

The little venue Alexia had rented to celebrate another year around the moon was packed with friends, family and other acquaintances and still, Misa hadn't had any trouble zeroing in on the back of your head as soon as she'd walked in. She'd recognise that very specific shade of hair colour anywhere, even in the dim lighting with overhead party lights dancing across the walls.

She had to fight to keep her expression neutral and not smile like a fool instead of focussing on the conversation going on around her. It was horrible to crush on a girl who’d never be interested in her, but what she deemed even worse, was falling for her friend’s younger sister... someone who, to make matters worse for her case, was very much taken... going by the woman glued to your side.

Y/N Putellas—  youngest of the three sisters that Elí no doubt had had to reign in and keep in check throughout your childhoods. She knew some bits about you and your life, which was a surprising small amount, seeing as Alexia spoke of her sisters so often it always seemed as if they were part of the team. But perhaps Misa preferred it that way. If she'd keep you at a distance, you'd feel more like an enigma than a real person. You had always felt like someone from another world to her anyway. Someone from a world so foreign to her that she had just stuck to glances and smiles instead of starting conversations or building a friendship. She knew you wouldn't have minded. She'd watched you closely to know your face would blossom into the biggest smile when someone approached you to talk. Though your welcoming energy and open disposition made her think otherwise, Misa still felt like you were out of reach. Unattainable. Meant to admire instead of indulge with.

The first time she'd met you, properly met you, and not through passing after matches or birthday parties like these, you and Alba had tagged along to a post-season vacation with your sister. Misa’s cheeks still dusted pink at the memory of how she’d acted around you the entire week. Or rather, how she hadn't... seeing as she'd frozen up whenever you would so much as look her way, send her a smile or sit beside her during dinners to try and strike up conversation. And the fact that the heat had made you parade around in a plethora of swimwear, or without a top on to sunbathe, hadn't helped either. She’d hid the rapid beating of her heart during such occasions exceptionally well. And even if she feared that her stoicism to everything you did had turned you away from her, she hated how you would still smile at her ever so gently, as if you thought Misa was deserving of some patience to let her come out of her shell. Either that, or you were a mindreader and could see the thoughts spiralling in her head whenever you sidled by her to grab something off the kitchen counter. No, Misa knew she had hidden her crush well, otherwise she would have received a lot of teasing comments and probably a sour look or a stern talking to from Alexia.

There was part of her that felt guilty for liking a woman who wasn't available, but what was she to do? Tell her heart to shut up and pick the next best available woman to crush on instead? She knew she couldn't do that, or wouldn't, more like, even if she had full control over her emotions. Which she hadn't. Sometimes she hated that and how it meant that she couldn't spare herself from the longing. Besides, you'd never made even a single move on her showcasing you felt what she did, and she preferred to keep her ego intact instead of facing inevitable rejection by approaching a woman like you.

And even if you had been single, Misa knew she would never take her chance. If not for you being Alexia’s little sister, which should've ended her dilemma then and there, then for the fact she knew you were on a whole other level. Even with knowing you only superficially after some smalltalk and overheard conversations, she could sense you were one of a kind. There weren’t a lot of people who could look at a person with so much grace and adoration, and there sure weren't enough people who made someone feel so comfortable just by being around them. And that laughter… the giggles and the smiles. Oh, how those could brighten up anyone’s day… Misa's days, especially. Well, you were one of those few lucky people who possessed that gift, you were special, Misa was certain.

Misa had never really had a high school crush, too focused on football to spend her energy and time on losing track of her dream to get to the top. She figured this was the equivalent of that. Of fluttered stomachs after shy glances, stumbled words after locked eyes and a rapid heartbeat as she daydreamed of being near you. So, yes, a crush. She could be fine with that. Still, maybe it would have been better to have a crush on a straight girl, because then she’d know there would never be a chance and she could slowly let it go, but this was different. And even if she didn’t think about you every day, she did feel her mouth go dry and her heart beat faster each time Alexia would bring your name up, or bring you along. Maybe it would just be like that for a while, at least until Misa would properly fall in love with someone who was right for her so that her crush on you would eventually fade into the abyss.

Misa let the drink in her glass slosh around and watched how you happily chatted away with who she knew were your best friends. Alexia had talked about the four of you now and then, always with a fond smile on her face. Misa could see now why your older sister felt that way. There hadn't been a single dull moment between you, as it seemed, and no one was left out. Well, no one but one. But she wasn't part of your friend group. Not really. Maybe by association, but that was where your friends drew the line. That much was clear by the distance they'd put between them and the woman by your side.

Misa watched as you sat leaning forward, elbows on your knees and flute with champagne in your hands as you listened to one of your friends, purposefully turning your back on your girlfriend. Misa’s brows furrowed—  what had she done to deserve such a treatment from you? Surely something bad, seeing as Misa was certain you'd never treat someone like that just for kicks. When she watched how your girlfriend harshly whirled you back to sit pressed against her, she clenched the glass in her hand. The conversation broke apart for a second, all eyes now on your girlfriend after what she'd pulled. One of your friends said something, quickly jumped up and playfully pulled you up, creating an easy escape from the situation, probably with the excuse to go to the restroom. Your friends that were left gave each other a look. Then, one of them turned to your girlfriend with a pointed finger and a face set in accusatory anger. Misa was eager to see what would happen next, but a hand on her shoulder pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Of course, it would be your older sister disrupting her everlasting and ongoing thoughts of you. Misa nibbled on her lip in thought, then fought out a smile and nodded.

"Come, I want to introduce you to someone. I think she's just your type."

Misa made a face but let herself get pulled off the seat nonetheless. Maybe it would be for the best to finally move on from you, no matter how serious her crush. Or maybe exactly because of that.

"I'm sure you'll like her."

"Fine," She muttered, feigning annoyance as Alexia's laugh reached her ears.

"I want to at least set one of my friends up with their once-in-a-lifetime lover."

"Is that a thing you've still got on your bucketlist?"

"Something like that, I just want to see you happy with someone," Alexia shrugged absentmindedly, smiling at people as they pressed through the crowd, but Misa stilled as they passed the door to the outside area.

With a tear stricken face and your friend's arm slung around your waist, you disappeared outside behind the doors, probably for some fresh air.

Ignore it. Don't give in. Not your business. You don't even know her. Let. It. GO.

Misa felt Alexia pull at her arm, and she pushed herself to follow her friend instead of following Alexia's little sister out. She had no business checking up on you. She needed to get you out of her head. But something was wrong, and she hated how it had made your smile disappear, the one thing she had started to let dictate her days whenever you were around. Which meant her night was ruined now. She’d seen your mood get ruined before, which typically seemed to happen whenever the group had talked about relationships and love during the vacation in Ibiza. You would turn sullen and quiet, but would mask it so perfectly that even Misa wouldn’t have noticed it if she hadn’t already been staring at you to witness the change.

You had laughed along to the silly banter of insignificant relationship quarrels and would smile or awe on cue if someone told an adorable story about their girlfriend. But you had turned your head away to bask in the Ibizan sun as soon as you'd felt afraid you were going to be asked about your relationship. You knew some of your sister's friends had a knack for being direct, Jenni being one of them. Despite having built a great bond with her thanks to the time she'd been with Alexia, she didn't know the extent of your life nowadays. Let alone your love life. You knew she'd meant well but winced nonetheless when her familiar voice silenced the restaurant table by asking you that one dreaded question;

"How's your lover doing?" She'd said it with a playfulness to her voice that showcased how little she really knew about said lover, but she couldn't be blamed for what she didn't know. Or better, for what you hadn't told her. You hadn't told anyone though, for that matter. Not even your best friends, though they had puzzled the pieces together after little effort and had barely needed to pull the words out of you to have you admit how things were really going.

With a sharp inhale, you pulled on your mask, your face breaking out into a wide grin seconds after as you grabbed your wine glass and twirled it around, trying to stall the time by pretending to let its rich aroma fill your nostrils.

"Really great." Your voice rose, knowing it wouldn't work if you'd deadpanned it with the same pain in your tone as the pain you were feeling inside.

"She's clearly downplaying it to not make us jealous, no?" Alexia threw a chuckle at you, "They're spending all their time together nowadays. We can barely get a phonecall in or steal her away for an evening. I'm surprised she's even here." Though Alexia seemed amused, there was something else that shone through in her eyes. Perhaps melancholy because of the deep sense of your absence in her life.

"I don't think she is," Alba chided from across of Misa, eyes narrowed while a smirk played at her lips, "She'd rub it in our faces nonetheless. Which means-" She hummed in thought, examining her little sister, then gasped as she watched you furrow your brows in slight worry. Alba had always been the one to better read between the lines of your acts and masks, and you knew how forthright she could be to point it out. You just hoped she wouldn't bare your relationship issues to the entire table, if she even had a hunch this time. You didn't want to talk about it. Not with her, not with anyone. You would work it out together and keep it between you and your girlfriend, as she had made you promise. And perhaps, if you didn't speak about it, you could pretend nothing was wrong.

"You miss her, don't you? It's the only plausible reason you've been disappearing further and further into your seat with all this lovey dovey talk going on around here," Alba threw a quick accusatory look Patri's way, who threw up her hands at the allegation.

Misa watched the worry ebb away from your face, but it didn't disappear entirely. Something was still plaguing you.

"I do," You nodded, solemnly, bringing your glass to your lips and nipping ever so slightly, as if you didn't want to down the entire glass until it could be done as a last resort to soften whatever blow you still seemed to be waiting for.

Jenni awed, fingers pinching at your cheek, to which you couldn't help but let out a genuine squeal and giggle, "Who'd have thought little Putellas would find her one true love before any of us?"

"Hey!"

"You know we weren't meant to be, no offence," Jenni laughed at Alexia, who playfully shook her head in return, then turned back to you.

"She treating you well, honeyboo?"

You knew it was but a joke, you could see it on her face, but you couldn't help but take the question extremely serious. Your thoughts wandered to the past few months. Your jaw tensed. No, she hadn't been good to you, but in her defence, it had been entirely your doing. Well, you figured it had to be.

The fact that you waited too long to answer and how your eyes drifted to the many people walking the promenade behind Jenni, made the table quiet in an instant.

"She is treating you well, isn't she?" Alexia piped up almost immediately, ignoring the kick that Alba dealt to her ankle, silently telling her to not bring it up with a table full of her teammates.

"She is- sorry, the wine's getting to me quicker than usual in this heat." A breathy chuckle left you, and Misa watched as you tipped your glass backwards and downed the wine.

Alba eyed you, calling your bluff instantly.

"So you down it all in one go?" Claudia wondered, blinking as she teased.

"Okay, I see what kind of night this will be. I'm all for it," Leila raised her glass, "To us and our love lives. However glamorous or miserable they may be."

Misa shook her head and let out a breathy chuckle.

Jenni laughed, "And if it's non-existent, then we'll salute to getting a hot lover-" She eyed Misa momentarily before she noticed the empty glass you were playing with. She waved the nearest waitress over, "Wait- can we get a refill on her glass? We can't salute with an empty one."

"What happens if we do?"

"Seven years of bad luck, or something."

"I thought it was seven years of bad sex?"

"One and the same thing, isn't it?"

Misa watched you quietly after not having said a word in ages and using her semi-invisibility to observe you a little longer.

The waitress returned with a glass of dry white and she watched as you gave her a kind smile, feeling sympathetic after having been a waiter yourself on the weekends during university. It was where you'd met one of your best friends— Catalina. You'd been thrown to the wolves during your first shift by having to wait the tables of both a hen party and a group of college boys from some other country, all while an El Clásico was playing on the screens. They had made you run around the restaurant like a headless chicken. You'd dropped the tray of drinks you'd carefully been balancing in both your hands the second FC Barçelona had scored against Real Madrid and the terrace had roared and jumped up in pure delight. The men that had bumped into you had been too drunk or excited, or both, to notice what they'd done, but Catalina had. She'd helped you clean up and then offered to stay an hour longer after her shift to help bridge the hour before another coworker would take over from you, even if your boss should've had that covered in the first place. The rest was history. Your other two best friends, Abril and Isla, had immediately accepted her into the group. But that hadn't been too hard. Despite Catalina being older than the three of you, and definitely being labeled as the mom-friend, she had a youthful spirit to her and perfectly matched the energy of your already established silly little trio. Catalina had been a constant and unwavering source of guidance and maturity mixed with a silliness that was a surprise to you at first. But Catalina and her wise words were not here to help you out of this situation right now.

Misa had taken notice of how you had grabbed the glass and raised it to clink as soon as it had been put in front of you. But you had not touched it for the rest of the dinner afterwards, seemingly not taking the easy bait offered to you to drown your sorrows in the unsuspecting bliss of a drunken haze. She applauded you for it. Not a lot of people would've done the same.

The taxi ride home had been eventful, with Jenni roping the taxi driver into her improvised karaoke party mid-ride and the others joining in as soon as they'd noticed the driver wasn't opposed to some lighthearted fun with a group of young women in his van. But Misa had sensed something was still awry the second you had shuffled onto the last row. You'd buried yourself beneath your blazer and she knew it was more of a way to comfort yourself than to warm you up from the chilly AC. And when you had closed your eyes and tilted your head back to rest when the singing had commenced, she furrowed her brows in worry as she glanced across Leila, who sat in between you. Leila noticed Misa's line of sight, stopped singing when she saw your far-away state, and tugged at you,

"Do we need to stop?" She asked, hinting at the possibility of the wine messing with your stomach. That, together with the way the car was swirling along the mountain pass as it drove to your Airbnb at the top of the mountain.

You opened your eyes, gave Leila a tight-lipped smile and shook your head.

"I'm just tired. Sun and alcohol always put me right to sleep."

You'd excused yourself and disappeared into your room under the same guise, but Misa knew that was a lie when she heard the sniffles and muffled sobs coming from the room next to hers in the villa you'd all rented out for the week. It was your room, and unless you had suddenly decided to swap rooms with one of the other girls, it were your sobs she heard.

It tore at her conscience to lay there in her bed and have to listen to you and know she should and could do nothing about it. While you were open and approachable, you were incredibly reserved when it came to your feelings. You only showed a surface level of what was inside, the rest safely tucked away behind layers of brick walls. You'd shown so by brushing over your true state multiple times that vacation, so why would you accept Misa's comfort if she were to knock on your door?

Not being able to listen to it any longer, she made her way to the shared kitchen and filled a glass of water, gulping it down immediately as she looked through the tall glass sliding doors. The few inflatables bobbed gently in the pool and their towels and bathing suits were still drying on the edge of some chairs. She recognised your black bikini instantly. You were a beautiful woman, something that was more a fact than a personal preference, and you could wear a trash bag and make it look fashionable, but there was something about you in black that took Misa's breath away. She'd willed her eyes to look at anything but you when you'd walked out of the house with that small bikini clinging to your warm and sunkissed body. It felt wrong to stare at you and your curves and simultaneously have her mind filled with thoughts that were anything but platonic. Even if she didn't daydream about tearing the thing off of you, since she willed herself to never let her crush get to that point, it still felt weird to see you in a state of such... undress. As if she wasn't meant to see you like that. As if she was being rude to you, and to your girlfriend by extension, by staring at you nearly naked when she had this massive crush on you. It filled her with guilt. It also made her feel incredibly silly, seeing as all the girls wore close to nothing either and some even paraded through the secluded backyard in nude to work on their tan.

"I'm sorry, I was feeling ill so I took a shower and went to bed early."

Misa quickly whirled around when she heard a door open inside the house.

"I know, I'm sorry. I should've told you. I'm... feeling better now, though?"

Your soft voice muttered and approached. She could hear the stuffiness in your nose and it pained her. Quickly, she opened the sliding doors and slid outside.

"I really am sorry, baby. No, Carmen, please-"

A sudden urgency shimmered through in your tone, and Misa walked over to the edge of the backyard to sit down on a lounger, hoping she would blend in behind the greenery of the many potted plants in the dark of night. She cursed herself, however, when the sliding doors opened further and you walked out, pacing the tiles near the pool as you nibbled on your bottom lip, your figure lit up by the warm lights of the porch.

"Please, trust me. We were out on the sea all day, then went to a restaurant, had drinks, took a van back and then I went to take a shower. Then I went straight to bed."

"Because I forgot to set an alarm for our phone call- Yes, I forgot the one this morning as well. I was in the pool. Well, I didn't answer your texts because my head was killing me. I hadn't even looked at my phone. No, I wasn't ghosting you. I texted you I was ill. That wasn't some excuse. I was actually asleep before you called. I'm good, by the way."

"My sisters and her teammates. Some have girlfriends, yes, what's that to do with anything, Carmen? No, just because they're also into women doesn't mean there's a higher risk of me cheating with them, are you insane? Do you actually hear yourself?" Your voice rose, and Misa hated how she was hearing parts of your private conversation. She shouldn't be there, she didn't want to be there, she didn't even want to know what you were dealing with. That was your business, and she felt like an intruder. But she couldn't disappear back inside without having to pass you, and she also didn't want to get up and leave to give you space and then see the uneasiness on your face knowing that she'd heard some of your phonecall.

"I know we're going through a rough patch, but I wouldn't cheat. Ever. Not even if you were horrible to me and I were surrounded by groups of women who lust after me- No?! Goddamn, Carmen, it was just a rhetorical thing to- Lust is not important to me. Love is. And you- you... give me that... Listen-"

She could hear the despair in your voice, as if you were dangling above a cliff and feeling your grip loosen on the rope keeping you from falling.

"Like I said— Ale, Alba, Jenni and- No, no. God, why am I even indulging your insecurities? Especially when you're like this-"

"Why I'm having an attitude? Carmen, do you hear yourself? I'm sorry, but I can't talk to you when you're like this. It's like trying to soothe a wailing baby on a plane, it's useless."

And, immediately after, "I-I shouldn't... I shouldn't have said that."

It was quiet for a good while, and Misa hoped you had ended the call and disappeared back into your room. Then she heard the quiver in your voice.

"That's... that really hurt my feelings. Why would you say that?"

You had sounded so small, but she could hear you were trying your best to stay tough. Then it was quiet again. Misa glanced over her shoulder, watched how you'd taken a seat on the steps leading back up to the house and had wrapped an arm around yourself as if it was the only thing still keeping you from breaking down.

"Carmen, I'm going to hang up now. I fear that whatever I say will only be fuel to whatever fire you're wanting to light. You've already made your mind up. You're- We're clearly on edge and I'd rather have this conversation face to face and when we're not in our feelings or say stuff we don't mean. Are you okay with that?"

Misa hated that idea. If the girl could get you so distraught over the phone, she didn't want to imagine what it would be to have her in front of you, accusing you of whatever she thought you'd done. Though Misa had always thought of you as a strong woman, how else could you, being raised by one, you clearly were on the brink of breaking now.

"It's okay, love. It's okay. I forgive you. I'm sorry I made you feel that way. I'm so sorry. I know I shouldn't have. Yes, I promise. I know, I don't want to fight either. We'll fix things, like we said. No. I-I... love you, too. Bye, sweet dreams."

You looked down at your phone after ending the call, then buried your head in your hands, soft sobs drowning in the wind and the soothing buzz of the pool cleaner. You took a deep breath in, hating how it came out all shuddered because of your sobs. You rubbed at your forehead, then pulled at your oversized shirt, massaging the ache you felt beneath it, in your chest. But you couldn't pull yourself out of your misery by your lonesome self. You needed to, you knew that. Your heart ached harder when you realised the next few days would be filled with dread of what was to come once you'd return home.

Misa watched as you stood up, the red blob of one of Alexia's old FC Barçelona training jerseys disappearing behind the glass doors of the house. When she heard it click shut, she let out the biggest breath she'd ever held.

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

Misa remembered that week very well. How she’d hated the remainder of it and would’ve been better off taking the next flight home instead of having to look at you and know you were hurting. How obvious it was that your sudden silence wasn't because you couldn't stay away longer than a week from your girlfriend without missing her, but how much you dreaded and counted down the days until you saw her again. But perhaps she'd cheated when coming to that conclusion the second she'd overheard your phonecall. She couldn't blame your sisters for not catching onto your act when you were so good at masking. Well, not good enough to push through and smile as if nothing happened, but good enough to get the job done either way.

Misa hated having the inner dilemma with herself wether to approach you and confess of hearing the conversation, and offer you some comfort perhaps. Or if she should take her worries to the one person who would protect you with her life. But was it really her place to decide wether she should rope Alexia into your relationship issues? No, it wasn’t. It had all reminded her how bad it was to have had a crush on you in the first place. If she hadn’t had one, she wouldn’t have been attached enough to care more than she should. She would have felt bad about it a little, sympathise, and then just… let it go. Deal with her own love life, or lack thereof. But she couldn’t. She wanted to see you smile again, and not the fake ones. But wanting that, she couldn’t deny, was for a selfish reason as well. And she had been even more distant with you after the incident. Showing up beside you in silent comfort would surely raise suspicion. You were a clever and observant woman. She knew that. And she knew that you knew that her eyes flit to you more than necessary, after having been caught multiple times.

So, she decided to not go over into action beside praying every night that things would get better for you. That you would work things out with your girlfriend, with this Carmen, who you clearly loved enough despite the issues in your relationship, and to work through them with her. Even if she hated no longer hearing your laughter through the splashing of water as you'd dunk Alba below the surface or see you dance and let loose or watch you awe at the old woman making balloon figures for the kids on the boulevard. But when she’d seen you get playfully pushed between your sisters in your seat on the airplane when you’d all taken a picture to send to your mother, and that broad smile had come out which she'd assumed matched the same adorable childlike glee of your younger self, Misa had hoped it was the start of better days coming. That whatever had happened in Ibiza had just been an unfortunate course of events. And that whatever she'd seen during Alexia's birthday party had just been bad timing, as well.

So when Mapi had asked, months later, how her favourite Putellas was doing and Alexia had turned stoic and waved the subject off with a scowl, Misa knew something had gone terribly wrong. Usually, the oldest Putellas sister would speak with so much joy in her eyes whenever her little sister was brought up. The fact she refused to talk about you at all, worried them. Including Misa, who was listening from her cubby while taping her fingers. 

“But she’s still going out with us after camp, right?”

Alexia rubbed at her furrowed brows, rummaging through her bag and looking anywhere but up in the eyes of her friends, “She'll be at the match, but that's all. I don’t think she's tagging along.”

Jenni perked up, looking defeated and confused at the same time, “Why not? She’s fun to have around, and I’ve missed her.”

“I don’t want her there.” Alexia’s response was blunt, harsh even, and the suddenty of it shifted the energy of the conversation.

“Okay… that’s- well, what happened?” Jenni butted in from her cubby, and Misa perked her ears, tearing the tape around her fingers in half with her teeth.

“Nothing.”

“Alexia.”

“I don’t want to talk or even think about it.”

“So instead you’ll leave us worried and let us speculate on our own?” Mapi huffed, clearly not liking how all kinds of scenarios flitted through her mind.

Alexia's face set in stone as she glared at them, eyes brimming with tears, “Not here.”

“Okay… that… that doesn’t sound good.”

“Can you at least tell us if she’s okay?”

Alexia's head hung low as she tied her cleats, and she muttered, “She isn’t, not mentally... or emotionally.”

“Then why not let her tag along? A fun night out sounds exactly like what she needs.” Jenni immediately held up her hands at the glare Alexia directed her way as soon as she'd spoken.

“No, it’s not. It’s not the right environment for her.”

“Because!?” Mapi hurried out in a whisper, realising this was not a conversation to be held in a filled locker room.

“I said not now!”

Jenni and Mapi sat back, defeated, and from her side of the room, Misa felt an immense wave of worry settle in her stomach. She had the desperate need to do something... anything, but what could she do when she was confined to watch from the sidelines?

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

© 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝘆.🖤

unnoffical first part of the 'as the flowers bloom, my heart does too' fic!! i hope you like it <3

[fellow-fandom-fruitifier]

I’ve seen so many alive!DBD au’s where Edwin and Charles meet first, or Edwin and Niko/Charles and Crystal meet first, but I raise you: Rich Payne and Surname-Von Hoverkraft families meet first. They are industry RIVALS, okay? They DESPISE each other with a burning passion and trade thinly veiled insults back and forth at every event they meet.

(More under cut cause this shit is atrociously long.)

At first Edwin and Crystal ignore each other or send glares, following their parents lead, but then they get older and Crystal starts acting out to get her parents attention while Edwin starts distancing himself from his. Both of them get the idea of, “What if I get to know the Payne’s/Surname-Von Hoverkraft’s daughter/son? My parents would HATE that.” So a friendship is formed.

In the beginning it’s toxic bitch levels of fake on both their sides, good lord they can’t stand each other. One day Crystal’s drunk off her underage ass and just starts openly venting and Edwin — the always sober guy and no it’s not cause he cares that’s preposterous!! — meets her tit for tat. Because, c’mon. Of course they’d drop random trauma on each other like fun facts.

Anyways they’re proper friends now, still appear the same — arguing is their love language — but there’s a level of solidarity now. Insert Edwin getting sent off to St. Hilarion’s for another year — Crystal threatens him to write her back per usual — and his classmates pull the prank. Not sure what 73 years in hell would be here, I’ve seen so many interpretations but I think kidnapping and torture is accurate.

While that’s going on Crystal gets a new boyfriend at her school. Any guesses?? She writes Edwin about David and Edwin does not hold back, he’s part of the reason Crystal tries to break up — it doesn’t go well, not sure how yet — and she writes Edwin about what happened craving comfort. Usually postal’s pretty fast, they aren’t that far, but she doesn’t get a response one day in. Two. Three… She finds out her best friends been kidnapped AFTER a news article has been released.

Turns out her parents knew the entire time but neglected to tell her. Crystal stops speaking to them. It’s 73 days later before she gets anymore news outside of, “The Police Are Still Looking”, and it comes in the sign of a knock. She hadn’t got much sleep that night — didn’t most nights — so she’d been wandering around her kitchen aimlessly. (As you do.) When she heart a soft rap on her front door. Curious, and too tired to care about danger or consequence, she opens the door.

Crystal doesn’t recognize him at first, he’s shivering and there’s so much blood on his- his everywhere but then a very weak voice croaks, “Crystal.” She screams. And sobs. Because what else do you do when your friend had to escape himself after 73 days of captivity and torture and the first safe place he could think to go wasn’t the police, or hospital, but you? Her parents are awoken by her scream and come rushing down because what the fuck is going on? And it’s all a blur from there — she refuses to leave his side and Edwin clings to her like a limpet.

It takes awhile of recovery and physical therapy — and regular therapy — after that but Crystal is holding his hand nigh every session, she’s there to bring him books and bicker and provide a sense of normalcy. Crystal forgets David for awhile, the only one to occupy her thoughts being Edwin because she knows he’d do the exact same. The two also get the satisfaction of watching their parents actually try to be amiable after this, it’s so stilted and awkward and they revel in it. And, yes, the tabloids somehow get ahold of the fact that kidnapped Edwin Payne fought his way to the Surname-Von Hoverkraft’s doorstep instead of literally anywhere else. Rumors pop up about his and Crystal’s relationship and the two make a teir list of their favs and least favs. Secret love child/half-siblings is their favorite, secretly dating isn’t even on the board they hate it so much.

College!!! The two decide against anything super fancy. And by that I mean they move to America together to find some community college to go to because neither want to be reliant on their parents who took a whole ass kidnapping to pay attention to them. Anyways, they share a flat above Tongue & Tail butcher shop with Jenny as their landlord. Crystal works as a freelance artist and tarot card reader (She’s really good.) while Edwin works as the librarians — Maxine’s — assistant.

Charles and Niko meet differently, Niko’s actually advertising her need for a roommate and Charles — who also moved to America to get away from his dad — takes it up. Fast friends don’t have a thing on these two. Niko gushes about this pretty girl across from them and Charles is man enough to admit, yeah, their neighbors are pretty fine. Too bad they’re dating.

———

Anyways more highlights of this AU in no particular order:

Crystal and Edwin physically recoil when Niko says something like, “Wait, I thought you two were dating?” Edwin puts his hand to his heart, too stunned to speak. Crystal fake gags and goes, “Why does everyone think that?! HE’S GAY!!”

Edwin discovers his sexuality at one of the clubs Crystal drags him to when Thomas King — older then them by a few years — flirts with him and he Panics™️. Crystal drags him away with a scathing look toward Thomas and asks if Edwin’s okay. He blurts out, “I- I’m gay?!” and Crystal goes, “You didn’t know??!?”

David tracks Crystal down to America and it’s a whole thing for obvious reasons, also because she forgot to tell Edwin about it in full — too busy helping him. This is how Crystal’s abusive ex trauma gets aired. (Charles maybe reveals some shit about his dad here too.)

Edwin and Niko go on a little faux-date together — cafe, library, just a chill day and night out — but Edwin leaves his flip phone at home and Niko’s dies. (Yes he has a flip phone.💀💀) So Crystal’s panicked as shit, last time she couldn’t contact him he was literally KIDNAPPED and TORTURED. Charles tries to calm her down before simply offering to wait up with her. When Niko and Edwin get back Crystal breaks down like, “You can’t DO that!!” This is how Edwin’s kidnapping and torture trauma gets aired.

Charles has a near death experience at St. Hilarion’s a few days after Edwin’s kidnapping. Turns out they went at the same time but Charles was a year under him and they ran in very different social circles. He gets chucked into the freezing lake and stoned still but a teacher catches them all and sends him to the hospital.

Niko’s dad died and her mom sent her to America to get away from the sadness, she caught a really bad illness and also almost died. Charlotte Knight was her Nurse. (Unrelated but she has Poliosis, which turns parts of your hair white.)

Esther is a serial killer and uses her son, Monty, to lure people in. Very brain washed Monty here sorry guys. She kidnaps Edwin who has several trackers on him — after the Niko Night Out incident Crystal and Edwin spent a night sewing them into each others coats and shoes — and the police arrest Esther and Monty.

Payneland and Palasaki of course, but this would probably be focused on Edwin and Crystal’s friendship. Yes, Niko and Charles get a shovel talk. “You know I adore you Niko and whilst I do not think you’d intend any harm, I will have to do something drastic in the event that it happens.” “Okay listen here dipshit. I have full faith you won’t hurt Edwin but if you do, intentionally or not, I will have to castrate you.”

There’s more I forgot lmfao, this is too long already😭😭 If I made any spelling mistakes no I didn’t

[dracowars]

I know u hv a lot to do but could u do a draco x yn potter but lily n james r still alive??

part of the family | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x potter!reader

word count: 1,1k

summary: where draco meets y/n parents, james and lily, for the first time

a/n: my first os since forever!! this came in when my draco requests were still open and i loved the idea, i'm a sucker for draco x potter!reader. i'm truly sorry for taking ages, i hope you enjoy either way <3

warnings: none

universe: harry potter

If anyone had told Draco in first year that he would be sitting at a dinner table with no other than Harry Potter himself, he would have laughed at them and asked what potion they took. But that was before he met you. Because Draco does still laugh now, but for a completely different reason: he is happy to be sitting here, next to you, in the home of the Potter family.

Your father is just telling one of his iconic stories from his time at Hogwarts, about how he and his best friends once roamed the huge halls of the castle, and the overall atmosphere in the room is so far away from what Draco usually associates with family dinners.

No tension, no awkward silence, no fear of saying or doing the wrong thing at any given moment. An hour ago, Draco would have believed that it couldn't be any other way. The second he crossed the threshold into your family's house, however, he was convinced of the opposite.

James and Lily are the kindest people Draco has ever met. They welcomed him with open arms straight away, even though they didn't even know him - expect from what is general knowledge in the wizarding world about him and specifically his family of course. And maybe from the stories Harry told them, when Draco and Harry were still very far from ever sitting anywhere near each other. But over time, many things have changed and you played a big role in improving their difficult relationship.

At first, you couldn't believe that the boy who usually treated your brother like shit had suddenly turned into a completely different person in your presence. But he did and it didn't take long until stronger feelings developed. Harry certainly couldn't believe it but here you are, eating your mum's homemade food, chatting and laughing away.

"Tell me, Draco. Have you mastered the Patronus Charm yet? Y/N told us that you tried it in Defence against the Dark Arts recently. Should have happened way earlier in my opinion, but oh well", James asks your boyfriend, a smile on his lips and genuine interest evident on his face. Draco's parents wouldn't even think of asking something like that.

"Not quite. I mean I managed it, but unfortunately it hasn't taken on a shape yet", Draco replies kindly, but doesn't maintain eye contact with James as he's too uncomfortable. You know that such an answer would probably be punished by his parents if he ever were to say it aloud in front of them, which is why you reach for his hand under the table. On his thigh, you intertwine his fingers with yours, the silver sigil ring cold against your skin. Looking at him from the side, you squeeze his hand and softly smile.

"Oh, don't worry about it, sweetheart! You'll get to it", your mother cheers him up, smiling between the two of you and you just know she saw your intertwined hands and loving gaze. You also know that Draco did not expect such a kind reaction and even though he visibly relaxes, he doesn't know what to answer.

The topic of the conversation changes and your dad can't help himself but to ask Draco all about his Quidditch tactics. Obviously, he can't tell him a lot about it since Harry is sitting right next to him, but seeing the three most important men in your life talk so passionately about something they love makes your heart jump. They keep on chatting over dinner and when it's time to clear the table, they don't even notice your mother and you collecting all the plates, too focused on their conversation.

You smile to yourself, following your mum into the kitchen where you put the dirty dishes into the sink and let the water run over them. Immediately, you notice her staring at you with a soft smile on her lips.

"What?", you ask, not being able to hide your own smile.

"Nothing. It's just..", she says, stopping herself as if to think how to best phrase her next words. "You two remind me a lot of your dad and I when we were younger."

"Really?"

"Yes. The banter, the loving gazes, the not keeping your hands off each other", she giggles, drying the dishes you hand her with a towel. "From what I have seen so far, I feel like you're truly meant for each other. It seems like you compensate the weakness of the other."

"Mum, stop it", you chuckle, feeling the blush creep onto your cheeks but you know that she is right. She always is. And you truly feel like you can be yourself when Draco is around so you are glad that she genuinely accepts him.

"Don't tell your brother or your dad that I said that though", she then laughs, both of you knowing that the Potter men can be really protective. The moment Draco enters the kitchen, you stifle your laughter.

"Can I help you with something, Mrs. Potter?", he asks your mum politely and the knowing smile on your mother's face is so obvious you want to sink into the ground.

"Draco, how often do I need to tell you that you can call me Lily-"

"We're almost done, but thank you so much for offering. We'll be right back", you answer and Draco nods, leaving again.

"He is so sweet! What a gentleman!", your mum almost squeaks but lowers her voice so he can't hear her anymore. All you can hear as an immediate response to your mother's comment is a snort, coming from Harry who just entered the kitchen with two glasses, putting them into the sink.

"You're just jealous because you don't have a girlfriend", you mock him while your mum tries to hide her giggle.

"You had all the guys of Hogwarts at your disposal and you seriously went for Draco Malfoy", is all Harry says before leaving again, but deep down you know that if they truly hated each other the way they always pretend they do, they would not be sitting at a table together and they would definitely not be talking about Quidditch.

"He'll come around, don't worry", your mum tells you, stroking over your shoulder as she finishes drying off the last glass. Once all the dishes are back where they belong, you go back to the dining room, happy to see that they are still chatting away.

When Draco meets your gaze, he reaches for your hand and helps you sit down on your seat again. From the corner of your eye you see your parents looking at each other, understanding the other without a word and you can't stop thinking about what your mum just told you about their own young love back then.

"I hope we will do this more often from now on", your dad says, smiling. "And I do not accept a no because you, Draco, are part of the family now."

[mybelovedwoo]

choi san as boyfriend, please 🥺🙏🏻

choi san as boyfriend - headcanon

headcanon, romance, fluff, smut

gn!reader x bf!atz

wc. ~0.9k

an: this one was so much fun to write, thank u some much for requesting it. you can request headcanons if you want to!! if you want to be tagged in any of my fics you can apply here <3

masterlist

-he is the definition of "the perfect boyfriend" and I'm not even overexaggerating

-this boy is so sweet with you, he acts as if you are made out of glass, he's so gentle and caring

-the biggest cuddle bug, is attached to you in some form in every given opportunity

-he likes to pick you up when you hug, and you wrap your legs around him, and after that, you can't go anywhere, he carries you around

-he is the type of boyfriend who hugs you from behind while you pay at the cashier, or when you do something in the kitchen

-he loves to hold your hands, he just thinks it's so cute, he even pecks it every here and there

-he also loves kissing you, and he's an excellent kisser, definitely knows what he's doing, he's giving you butterflies all the time

-he loves when you hold him in your arms, he feels the safest there

-he prefers to be the little spoon, but ever since he got this big it's just impossible for you to hold him in your arms as you used to

-he's a bit sad about it, but doesn't mind it that much as long as he can hold you instead, he is just not able to sleep without hugging you

-he rather stays home with you, where there's just the two of you, sharing intimate moments, he's a homeboy

-gives you all his attention, you never catch him being on his phone when you're there, he thinks every moment with you is precious, and he appreciates all of it

-he expects the same from you, gets all whiny and pouty when you aren't paying attention to him

-loves watching movies with you, cause when he goes abroad he watches them again and he thinks of you all the time, it comforts him

-loves it when you sit on his lap when he plays video games, he always strokes your back with one of his hands, and you always fall asleep hugging him tightly so you don't fall off (although he would never let that happen)

-his texting you all day long, even when he's at work, he always finds 5 minutes so he can check on you, and can send cute little texts

-at the end of the day, if you can't meet up, he's calling you, because he can't live a day without hearing your voice, you most definitely fall asleep still being on the call

-he is just so soft, nurturing, loving and he cares deeply for you, he makes sure you get all the love you deserve

-he is very supportive, he open-mindedly listens to your views and problems, he wants you to know that you can always rely on him

-he motivates and boosts your confidence, there's not a single day he doesn't tell you how beautiful you are inside and out

-he remembers every special occasion, date, and fact about you, your family, and even your friends

-he can be quite moody though, every activity depends on his mood, one moment he only wants to stay home with you, and the next he takes you on the craziest date ever, like going on a rollercoaster in an amusement park or bungee jumping 

- he doesn't show his soft spot to anyone, he prefers to cry and get emotional only with you

-he feels that you are the one in the first month of your relationship, he is very family-oriented, so he's been thinking about having a family with you early on in your relationship

-he's really romantic, sometimes he just lights candles and makes a warm bath for you with roses and champagne, because he thinks you deserve it

- he calls you really cute names like, sunshine, bunny, or gorgeous, although, in front of his family and friends, he likes to call you his wife, even when you aren't married yet

nsfw +18!!!

-i think he's a soft dom, I don't care what anyone says

-he loves to control you, but would never do something you don't like, and he could never hurt you, his heart could not bare it

-his sex drive is crazy, you have sex almost every time you meet, and can go multiple rounds, he has a lot of stamina

-he's worshipping your body every minute of it, he says things like "god, you're perfect" and "I want to kiss every part of you"

- and there's definitely not a single part on your body he hasn't kissed yet

-respect and trust are very important for him in the bedroom too, he would never say something to you he wouldn't say out of it, and he makes sure you feel safe and respected

-he loves to make you feel good more than himself, sometimes it's enough for him if he gives you head, and he doesn't want anything in return

-something that is a huge turn-off for him is when he's seeing you being hurt, either physically or verbally, so that's a no-no

-he asks you every here and there if you are enjoying yourself or you're feeling good, likes to know what you are thinking

- he always starts off slow and affectionate, but after some time he loses it and gets more and more faster and a little rougher (as I said he has a lot of stamina and needs to let it out somewhere)

-he's not too loud, he just groans and moans a lot into your ears

-he loves it when you sit on his lap and ride him though, he always holds your hand and tells you that you're doing good

-he's so soft and sweet after, aftercare is really important for him, first, he likes to cuddle, and after he likes to clean up with you, maybe taking a shower with you while you cuddle and wash off each other

[bloatedandalone04]

In The Way I Need You | Part 12

Series Masterlist

➪in which you and clay spend some much needed alone time together, and you find out some scary things that come with falling in love with him.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 5.4k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | THANK YOU FOR 4.8K FOLLOWERS

Clay was in a significantly better mood now that he fixed things between you and him, and he was making damn sure to not have a third fuckup any time soon. 

He was lucky to have had you forgive him twice already, he was sure he was on thin ice with you by this point. Now that you and he had talked things through, he was determined to prove to you that he was all in with you. 

His mother had just left with Joey, and Clay already missed his kid more than he thought he would in so little time. 

But you were already on your way over. 

Clay had texted you and asked if you wanted to spend the weekend with him since the house would be empty, and he felt like he needed to make up for the time he spent away from you during the week while you were pissed at him. 

Your instant response of ‘YES’ had him feeling like a fucking teenager again who had just invited his crush over, but he was pushing twenty eight, and you were his girlfriend. 

He spent a good portion of his morning tidying up the already spotless house and trying to think of ways he could make this weekend as casual yet romantic as possible. As he was tidying up the kitchen counters, he remembered watching the maids his mom hired when he was younger clean up, and then he realized they only stopped once he brought Joey home. How privileged can one guy, no, one family be?

Just as he heard you call out to him from downstairs, informing him of your arrival, his phone went off with an incoming call from Jack, his friend and doctor that saved his life when he had his heart attack a few years back. Clay sighed and quickly walked over to the top of the stairs, calling out, “Up here,” before he answered his phone. 

“Clay, good to hear your voice, buddy,” Jack said in his usual cheerful voice as Clay leaned against the banister. 

“Hey, Jack,” he greeted just as you reached the top of the stairs and saw that he was on the phone, your overnight bag slung over your shoulder making him smile. Your brows rose and you brought a finger up to your lips, signaling that you would be quiet as you walked over to him and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“I’m just calling to make sure you’re still coming by on Monday for a checkup,” 

“Yeah, that’s the plan,” Clay answered, snaking his arm around your waist when you began to pull away. He tugged you back to him and held you against his chest as he continued. “I actually have company right now, is that all you needed?”

“Company?” Jack laughed and Clay could hear the squeak of his doctor’s office chair in the background. “I thought Mrs. Beresford was away with the youngest this weekend.”

“She is,” Clay confirmed, looking down at you with a smirk as you stared up at him, waiting for him to finish his call. “It’s a different kind of company, Jack.”

“Oh, I see,” Jack mumbled. “I’ll let you go then. See you on Monday, Clay.”

Clay was already pulling the phone away from his ear as he muttered, “Yeah, see you then,” and ended the call. He slipped his phone into his pocket and wrapped his other arm around you, pulling you right up against him as he finally greeted you. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi,” you laughed, bracing your hands on his chest. “Who was that?”

“My doctor,” he murmured, leaning down to brush his nose against yours. 

He saw the way your eyes widened slightly as you pulled back. “Your doctor? Why was he calling? Is everything okay?”

Clay laughed quietly and felt a warmth take over his body at how concerned you sounded. “Everything’s fine, baby,” he rasped, watching as your shoulders dropped in relief. “I have a checkup on Monday after Joey goes to school.” 

You nodded, smoothing out his t-shirt. “Got it,” 

He hummed, leaning down to kiss you softly, feeling the way your fingers immediately bunched up his shirt and made it wrinkled again. “Do you want to come with me?”

You pulled back again, your brows furrowing slightly. “To your appointment?”

“Yeah,” Clay nodded, gripping your waist. “I’ll have the rest of the day to myself until Joe comes home.” 

You pressed your lips together and slid your hands higher up until you were holding onto his shoulders. “Oh, well in that case,” you trailed off, leaning up to kiss him quickly. “Yes, I want to come with you.”

Clay grinned down at you and bumped your nose with his again before kissing you deeply. You hummed against his lips as he took your bag from you and slung it over his own shoulder, then you were pulling away with a pretty smile. “I’ll take this upstairs,”

“Are you going to put it in the guest room?” You teased, leaning against the wall opposite of the banister as he walked around you. 

Clay paused on the second step, matching your smirk as he braced one hand on the railing. He remembered the first night you stayed here and how you slept in the guest room, and then he remembered the one night you slept with him in his bed after he picked you up, and his smirk grew. “If you want to sleep in there, sure,” he answered, walking up a few more steps. “But my bed is comfier. You know that.”

You smiled and looked down. “Have you eaten today?”

“Uh, no,” he answered, pausing his ascent again. “I spent most of my morning cleaning.”

“I can tell,” you laughed, looking around the second floor hallway. “It looks great in here. And you know what? For all your hard work, I’m going to make you lunch.”

Clay smiled and shook his head. “You don’t have to do that, baby,”

“I want to, and I am going to. Jess told me this really good sandwich recipe she has at the cafe, and it’s all I’ve been craving recently,” you said, pushing off the wall and beaming up at him. “So I’m going to make it for you. You’ll like it, I promise.” 

“I like anything you make,” Clay murmured and you grinned before turning and making your way towards the kitchen. He shook his head again before finally walking up to the third floor and going right past the guest room door and towards his. 

He set your bag down on the edge of his bed, doing a quick scan of his room to make sure there was nothing that resembled Sam - even though he knew there wasn’t - before heading back downstairs. 

When he walked into the kitchen, he found you sitting at the table with two plates in front of you. You hadn’t touched yours, which made a dumb smile form on his face as he moved to sit down next to you. “That was fast,” 

You shrugged, pushing the second plate towards him. “You have to be fast if you work at Jess’,” 

Clay nodded in understanding, and he noticed how you still hadn’t eaten anything and were probably waiting for him to take the first bite, so without another word, he picked up the perfectly made sandwich and bit into it. 

“So?” You asked, not even three seconds after he began chewing, nervously sliding your plate closer to you. 

He laughed, waiting until he swallowed to answer you. “You were wrong, I don’t like it,” he started, smirking at the way your face dropped a bit. “I love it. Best thing I’ve eaten all month.”

You reach over and lightly smack him on the shoulder, letting out an amused scoff. “Don’t mess with me like that,” you scolded, but he knew you didn’t mean it. One of his favorite things about you was how easily you and he got along, and how you were able to tease each other like this from day one.

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughed, setting the sandwich down as he looked over at you with a small smirk. 

“No you’re not,”

“No, I’m not,” he replied immediately and you both looked at each other for a few seconds before he was moving his chair back and you were out of yours. You settle on his lap, your food long forgotten as you grip the sides of his face and press your lips to his. Clay leaned back against the chair as his hands grab your waist, leaning up to deepen the kiss while you moan softly against his mouth. “I missed you.”

You smile, tracing your fingers along his jaw. “You just saw me yesterday after work,” you teased, brushing your nose against his. “But I guess I missed you, too.” 

Clay grinned, sliding his hands up your sides. “You just miss my kid and my fridge,” 

A blush took over your face as you bit down on your lip. “It’s your fault for having such a cute kid and immaculate taste in diet soda,” you beamed then your eyes trailed over to the dining room table. Clay knew what you were looking at, but he still followed your gaze anyway. “Wow…that’s a pretty rose, Mr. Beresford.” 

Clay laughed, squeezing your hips and helping you stand up. “I’m glad you think so,” he murmured, standing up as well before walking over to the bigger table and picking up the single rose. “It’s for you.”

Your blush deepened as you took it from him. “Clay,” you said quietly, bringing the rose up and inhaling the fresh scent. “I love it…it reminds me of…” 

Clay watched as your eyes widened slightly and you moved closer to him. “Reminds you of what?”

Your eyes darkened a bit as you answered, “Reminds me of when we went to Times Square and I told you that story about my neighbors and the roses,” 

Clay’s brow curved up and he shrugged. “I vaguely remember that,” he lied, obviously, too. Of course he remembered the story about Mark and Cindy, and he especially remembered how happy you got when you told him. And maybe he wanted to be the Mark to your Cindy for a day and give you a rose when you got here. 

You shake your head, letting him take the rose again and set it down on the table as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. Then you were leaning up to kiss him, trailing your fingers through his hair as his arms wrapped around your waist. “Thank you for the rose,” you mumbled against his lips, tugging at the hair on the back of his neck as he gripped the backs of your thighs. “And for thinking of me.”

“I’m always thinking about you,” he confessed as he brushed his lips along your pulse point. “You and Joey, all the time.”

You let out a soft whimper as he lifted you up and placed you on the table next to the rose. “I’m so glad I have no sense of direction,” you laughed quietly, caressing his face as he thought back to when he met you; when you spilled your coffee all over his shirt and then bombed your interview at that hotel, giving him the perfect opportunity to have you be around him almost daily. 

“Me too,” he rasped, bunching up your shirt in his hands as he leaned back up to kiss you. “Who knew ruining a two hundred dollar shirt would end up being the start of something so good.”

You pull back after only letting him kiss you for a second, your eyes wide as you grab onto his shoulders. “That shirt was two hundred dollars?!” You asked in disbelief, making the corners of his lips turn upwards. 

“Around there,” he nodded, “Yeah.”

“Clay!” You gasped, tightening your hold on him. “Now I feel even worse! You have to let me pay for it.”

Clay laughed, shaking his head as he began placing kisses along your collar bones. “It happened weeks ago, baby,” he murmured. “Trust me, with all you’ve done for me and Joey, it’s already more than paid off.” 

Another pretty blush took over your face as you massaged the sides of his neck with your thumbs. “Are you sure? Now that I’m working at Jess’, I can-”

Clay cut you off with a quick kiss to your lips, shaking his head once he pulled away. “I’m positive,” he said, “Now can we go back to eating? Then maybe we can pick this up?”

You smirk and nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he helped you down from the table. “Sure, though maybe not on the dining room table?” You laughed as he led you back towards the kitchen after you picked up the rose again. “As nice as it is…it’s not the most comfortable thing.”

“Of course, babe,” he grinned, sitting back down at the smaller table, and he was once again reminded of how privileged he really is. 

-

Instead of going back to your makeout session on the table, Clay guided you towards the living room. 

You weren’t complaining; you had a strange infatuation with the living room ever since you had your first kiss with him in there. You also spent most of your time with Joey in there when you were watching him, so it was definitely your favorite room in a house full of rooms. 

It was nearing six in the evening and Clay offered to put a movie on so you both could unwind from the past work week. Since you picked the last one, you told him to choose one as you got the pillows and blankets sorted on the couch. 

He was crouched down and rummaging through the cabinet of DVD’s you shamelessly organized one night when you were babysitting Joey as you sat down on the couch and looked at the coffee table. There were cards scattered on it, some overturned and showing off someone’s impressive hand, and you bit your lip as you glanced over at your boyfriend. “Hey, Clay,” you laughed, leaning back against the couch. 

“Yeah, babe,” he called back, looking over his shoulder at you. 

You gestured to the table, “You play often?”

Clay furrowed his brows, turning back to the cabinet and grabbing something before standing up. When he caught sight of the cards, he laughed. “Oh, yeah,” he answered, walking over and putting the disk in the DVD player. “My mom and I do. Well, she plays, I lose.”

You let out a laugh, draping a blanket over your lap as you look up at him. “That’s adorable,”

Clay shook his head and you could’ve sworn you saw a faint blush spread across his face. “We played for a bit before bed last night,” he said, leaning over to pile the cards in a stack. “I can’t believe I cleaned every inch of this place but managed to forget about the coffee table.”

“It’s alright, I think the spotlessness of every other inch makes up for it,” you teased, reaching for the bowl of popcorn you made after the very late lunch. 

“As long as you’re impressed by it,” he grunted, setting the card stack in the middle of the coffee table before leaning back and wrapping his arm around your shoulders. 

“It doesn’t take much,” you admitted, looking up at the TV. “What movie did you pick?”

As soon as you asked that, the menu for Twisters came onto the screen. “I hope you like disaster movies,” Clay grinned over at you. “If I have to watch one more Disney movie, I might never watch anything else again.”

You laughed, leaning into his side. “How many Disney movies does Joey make you watch?” 

Clay huffed, “Too many,” and pulled you closer to him. “But I wouldn’t trade those moments in for anything.”

A smile formed on your face and you pressed your cheek against his bicep. “You’re so sweet, Clay,” you whispered, lacing your fingers with his as the opening scene of the movie started. “Watching you and Clay together…it just makes me feel things. I don’t know how to explain it.”

Clay pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m the same way when I get to come home early and see you and him together, too,” he confessed. “Joey never really had someone other than my mom and I in his life. He’s so used to us, he never really gets to be around other people. That’s another reason I’m glad he’s in school now.”

You blushed, laying your head against his chest. “Having you be the main person in his life doesn’t seem too bad,” you teased. 

Another kiss was pressed to your head, followed by a quiet laugh. “You’re sweet,” 

It was nearing the end of the movie when you shifted and cuddled closer to Clay’s side. He wasn’t in his usual attire of a suit, he was clothed in sweats and a t-shirt, and you were feeling the same way you felt the night he picked you up from Hanson’s. 

You wanted him. 

But exactly how much could you have of him? You weren’t entirely sure, but there was no harm in asking. 

You knew about his heart condition, but you didn’t know the full extent of it. 

When the last scene of the movie began, you moved to sit back against the couch, putting some space in between the two of you. Clay’s eyes drifted from the screen and over to you, his arm loosening around your shoulders. “Everything okay?” 

You nodded, playing with the corner of the blanket you and he were sharing. “Of course,” you trailed off, turning to face him. “Can I be nosey?”

Clay’s mouth turned upwards and he turned to you as well. “Always,”

You smiled at that, leaning your head against the top of the backrest. “Your heart condition…how bad is it?” 

Instead of him getting defensive about it or shutting down the topic, he took your hand in his. “About as bad as a heart condition can be,” he answered, his thumb tracing the back of your hand. “I’m on a transplant list, but it’s been years now. I got on it when I had my heart attack.”

His words leave you speechless for a second as you process them, your face quickly beginning to heat up. “You…you had a heart attack?” You asked in a whisper, your hold on his hand tightening. “When?”

“When I was twenty,” he rasped, shifting closer to you. 

You swallowed, looking down at your joined hands. “What happened? Did something trigger it?”

“It was sudden, nothing really happened to trigger it,” he said quietly. “I was told when I was a teen that having one was really likely, but I wasn’t prepared for it to happen a few years later.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but stopped himself short. You didn’t know if you wanted him to continue since your body was already on fire and your hands were shaking. But you also wanted to know everything you possibly could know about him and his condition. “What are you not telling me?”

“Baby,” he trailed off, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “In the hospital, my heart stopped and I died for a few minutes.”

“Clay,” you gasped, holding onto his hand even tighter. You hadn’t realized just how serious it actually was. He died. You felt like you were going to be sick as you used your grip on his hand to keep yourself grounded, despite the fact that you were already sitting. “Oh, my God.”

“I know,” he whispered, letting you cling onto his hand. “It’s scary. A few years later I had Joey, and then Sam left, and I nearly had another one because of the stress I felt with her being gone. I guess that’s why my mom is so protective of me…it was a hard time for her. I don’t think she’s fully moved past it yet.”

You nodded in understanding, pressing the back of his hand against your cheek. “Thank you…for telling me,” 

Clay frowned a bit as he ran his knuckles along your cheekbone. “I don’t want this to change anything, okay? I don’t want you to think I’m just waiting around to…you know,” he mumbled and you were glad he didn’t finish that sentence. “I’m okay for now, and there’s nothing anyone can do to change that until they find me a donor.” 

You nod again, looking up at him with a guarded expression. “Okay…”

“I mean it,” he stated, “What you and I have…it makes me forget about all of it. Joey and my mom, too. I don’t want to be just another sick person, and I don’t want that to be what you see me as. So please, don’t treat me differently now that you know everything.”

You bite down on your lip and nod slowly, looking down at your hands as you run your thumb along his fingers. “I won’t,” you whisper, hoping you could stay true to your word. “I promise, I won’t.”

“Okay,” he said quietly, bringing his other hand up and caressing your jaw. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

Raising your brow, you give him a pointed look. “Unlikely,”

Clay huffed out a laugh, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your mouth. “I’m fine,” he promised, tugging at your bottom lip with his thumb. 

You believed him, “Okay,” and then you were kissing him again, but a lot more gently than you have in the past. You knew you were already breaking your promise to him, but you couldn’t help it. The chance of him having another heart attack and surviving was extremely unlikely, even you knew that, and you refused to be witness to it. 

But Clay wasn’t easily fooled. “Babe,” he groaned, pulling away and giving you a stern look. “Baby, you don’t have to treat me like glass. I told you, I’m fine.”

“But-”

“Nothing,” he cut you off, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. “But nothing. I can handle my mom treating me like I’m broken, but not you…not you.”

You hold back another complaint and nod, and he gave you a look that told you he didn’t fully believe you. Without another word, he pulled you onto his lap and held you against his chest. “Clay-”

“Don’t worry about me, okay? I’ve told you everything you should know, and I’m trusting that it won’t change anything between us,” he murmured, leaning in and kissing along your neck. 

“Okay,” you agreed, feeling the worry and fear begin to fade away. What replaced it was an undying want and need for the man you’ve grown to care so much about. The man you were sure you’re falling completely in love with. “I just…I like you, so much.” He didn’t need to know that your fondness for him had grown tremendously since the day you met him. 

Clay hummed, pulling back to look you in the eyes. “I like you, too. So much,” he said, and you were given no choice but to believe him. You shared a look, one that showed how much you both wanted each other. Perhaps even needed. Clay’s expression softened and his hands caressed either side of your face, “Do you want this?”

You swallowed and slowly nodded, reaching up to hold onto his wrists. “But if you can’t-”

Clay cut you off with a kiss this time, and he wrapped his arms around your waist. “I think we both know that I can,” he grinned and you felt your face heat up in a blush as you realized that he definitely can since he ended up being a father at twenty two.

“Right,” you muttered, a bit embarrassed now. 

But Clay just laughed, holding you close to his chest as he stood up. “Right,” then he was carrying you towards the stairs while the end credits for the movie played.

-

Clay felt like he was shaking as he carried you into his room and gently set you down on his bed. 

He hadn’t been intimate with someone since Sam, and that was quite a few years ago now. He never felt the desire or want to until he met you, and suddenly all he wanted was to feel that sense of closeness, both physically and emotionally. 

Clay turned around and closed the door out of habit, and when he looked at you again, you had kicked your leggings off, leaving you in just your panties and shirt. His hands were shaking a bit as he pulled off his tee, and he tossed it aside to find later as he crawled onto the bed and hovered over you. “I’m gonna ask one more time,” he whispered, bracing his elbows on either side of your head. “Do you want this?”

Your eyes were wide and needy as you nodded up at him, your hands sliding up his chest. “I want this,” you said back, “I want you.”

Clay smiled down at you, leaning in to brush his nose against yours before kissing you deeply. “You’re perfect,” he mumbled, kissing down your neck as his hands played with the hem of your shirt. “Anyone ever told you that?”

He almost didn’t believe you when you slowly shook your head, but you never gave him a reason not to believe you, so he wasn’t going to start now. “No,” you answered as he tugged the thin material of your shirt up your body. “Never.”

Clay’s eyes darkened a bit at both the sight of your exposed stomach and your words. “What kind of boys have you been with before this, baby?” He teased, watching as a pretty blush took over your features. 

“They’re not important,” you mumbled, lifting your body so he could pull your shirt the rest of the way off. 

“That’s right,” he praised, his eyes raking over your lace covered chest. “They’re not important.”

His fingers played with the straps of the pretty, light blue bra you were wearing, his eyes damn near the same shade as the material. You moaned softly as he stared down at you. “They’re not you,” 

Clay’s eyes flickered up to meet yours as he reached around you and unclasped the lacy fabric and slid it down your arms. “No, they’re not,” he hummed in agreement, dropping your bra to the floor as he pressed kisses down your chest. Your hands tangled in his hair as his moved up to grope your soft breasts, his lips peppering kisses all over you. 

“Clay,” you moaned, pulling softly on his hair. “I need you.”

Your words, the beautiful things they were, had him growing hard for you, and he slid his hands down your body as he leaned in and kissed you deeply. “Say that again,” he nearly begged, running his fingers along the waistline of your white, but equally as lacy panties. 

You oblige instantly, “I need you,” and reach for his sweats. “Please.”

Truthfully, Clay needed you just as badly, if not more. 

He would’ve spent his time with you, but he couldn’t handle much more either. Four years without touching someone will do that to you. 

Clay pushed the lace down your legs, his fingers slowly dipping into you as you worked on ridding him of his sweats and boxer briefs. You were wet, and took his fingers eagerly as you moaned his name and returned your hands to his hair. “Please,” you begged again. “Please please…please.”

He groaned, pulling his hand away from you. “Okay, baby,” he rasped, reaching for his nightstand. “Just let me get-”

“We don’t need one,” you quickly say, looking up at him with hooded eyes. “My last boyfriend was when I was nineteen, and I’m not the kind of girl to sleep around. I’m clean, I promise.”

Clay’s eyes darkened even more as he settled back down on top of you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you answer, biting down on your lip as you grab hold of his shoulders. “Unless you want to use one…that’s okay, too. I don’t know when your last relationship was.”

“Yeah, you do,” he laughed quietly, reaching down to hike one of your legs around his waist. 

Your eyes widened a bit, “She was your last? Like, the last person you-”

“Yeah,” he answered, resting his forehead against yours. “She was my last. I never felt the need or want to be with someone else after. Then I met you.”

Your expression softened and you wrapped your leg tight around him, giving him the silent signal to take that final step. “Clay…” you trailed off, parting your lips to say more as he slowly pushed into you. Your words die on your tongue as you moan against his lips when he leaned down to kiss you, and the tightness of your body as his eyes squeezing shut. 

He braced his forearms next to your head as he pulled out halfway, only to bury himself back in. A deep groan left his mouth as you took each thrust, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you tilt your head back. “You feel so good,” he praised, pushing his face against the side of your neck as he began to rock into you. “So good.”

You moaned softly, wrapping your other leg around his waist. “Clay…oh, my God,”

He grunted, kissing along your neck as he started to move faster, almost as if he wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t as fragile as people say he is. His heart was weak, but that was the only part of him that was. “Baby,” 

Your eyes roll back as you drop your head against his pillow. “Clay, you feel so good…I knew it,” you gasped quietly, holding onto him tightly. “I knew you would. I knew it would feel so good with you.”

And somehow he knew it, too. “Yeah?” He breathed out, feeling the way you clenched tightly around him. “You’ve been thinking about this?”

He thought the way he added a teasing edge to his voice would make you blush again, but you just nodded shamelessly. “All the time,” you admitted and he groaned quietly, his jaw going slack as he thrusted into you a bit harder. “God, Clay, I want you all the time.”

He’s been thinking about you, too, and you were even better than he thought you would be, if that is even possible. He was convinced no one has ever felt better than you, but he had no plans to further test that theory out.

“Fuck,” he moaned, reaching for your hand. He laces his fingers with yours and pins them to the pillow beside your head, leaning down to kiss you. You whimpered against his mouth and the sound only made him want to keep going and make you forget all about the guys you were with before. The ones that didn’t deserve you. 

Clay wasn’t usually a jealous guy, but he was sure that would change in no time, as long as he stayed with you. 

“Oh, God,” you moaned, pulling away from the kiss with swollen, wet lips as you buried your face against his shoulder. “I’m close.” You said it with a bit of disbelief in your voice, making him believe that he was the first one to bring you to the edge this quickly. 

To be fair, you were both pent up with desire and want for each other, and a few days ago, Clay was sure he would have never gotten to experience this with you because of the picture you found. 

But here you were, whining and writhing beneath him and letting him hear all the pretty and perfect sounds that came from your lips. 

“Please,” you begged. “Don’t stop…I’m so close.”

Clay continued to roll his hips into yours, and soon enough you were moaning loudly, your fingers grabbing onto his hair and your back arching off the bed. “There you go,” he muttered, watching your face as you came undone for him. He felt his own release creeping up on him, and he managed to find enough control to be able to ask, “Where…where can I..”

You whined, brushing your lips against his ear as you answered, “Inside…don’t stop,”

Clay squeezed his eyes shut as he let out a deep groan, his pace faltering as he came. “Oh, fuck…baby,” he huffed, burying his face against your neck as he wrapped you up in his arms. 

You moaned quietly, running your fingers through his hair as he rolled you onto your sides. “Are you okay?” You asked in a soft voice, trailing your hands down to his neck. 

Clay let out uneven breaths as he nodded, taking your hand in his and looking down at you. “I’m okay,” 

“You promise?” You ask again, tangling your legs with his. He leaned in and brushed his lips against yours before pulling away and nodding, a lazy smile on his lips as he held you close. 

“I promise,”

[naturesapphic]

May I request a reder billie fic.

Billies family doesn't trust R. But one day they secretly see billie taking care of reader who is really tired and sad (homophobic parents)

So they take her in ?

Trust

Billie eilish x fem!reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort, billies family being unsure of reader, homophobic parents, Billie being the sweetest girl in the world

You were impatiently waiting for your girlfriend to pick up the phone as you were sitting on the curb in front of your old house. You were trying to contain your sobs when your girlfriend’s beautiful voice came through the phone. “Hey baby you okay?” She asked.

“My parents k-kicked me o-out!” You sobbed out and Billie sighed sadly. “Don’t worry I’ll be there in five babygirl.” She said and hung up the phone. You tried to contain your tears but they kept flowing like a river. Five minutes later Billie came rolling up in her car and she immediately ran out over to you. “Babygirl what happened?” She asked as she pulled you in her arms.

“M-my parents k-kicked me o-out! T-they know about u-us because I told t-them and they said that t-they d-don’t wanna s-see me e-ever again…” you sobbed out and Billie felt her heart break into pieces at your words. “Baby…im so sorry…come on. We are going to my house.” She stated as she helps you stand up but you gave her a unsure look. “But Billie…your family doesn’t like me…” you said sadly.

“They do…they just…they are scared that you are just using me or will hurt me. Which I know none of those things are true. They will come around I promise.” Your girlfriend reassured you and you nodded your head slowly. Billie opened the passenger door for you and helped you inside before closing it and going in the drivers side. She started her car and drove the both of you to her house. She parked in front of her house and looked over at you, feeling your nerves radiating out of your body.

Your girlfriend put her ring covered hand on your warm thigh and gently squeezed it. “Don’t worry babygirl. I’ll be right here.” She said and leaned over to place a soft kiss on your lips as you smiled against her and pulled away. “Let’s go babygirl. You must be exhausted.” She said as she got out of the car and went to your side and helped you out. She placed her arms around your waist as y’all walked up to the door as Billie unlocked it. Y’all went inside and walked by the kitchen.

Her family gave you small unsure smiles as y’all walked by and went into the living room. She told you to sit and rest while she goes and grabs your things from her car. Of course you weren’t sure of it and asked her if she needed help but she denied and told you to rest. You laid down on the comfy couch while your girlfriend grabs your things and puts it in her room. After a few moments, she was done and went to tell her family what happened. They were very unsure about it and said that they would think about it.

So Billie went back to the living room to see you laid out on the couch but you weren’t sleeping, just simply laying there awake with a sad look all across your face. “Hey pretty girl. You okay?” She softly said as she kneeled down near your face and tucked some hair behind your ear. Your lips trembled as you shook your head no. You started to cry and Billie got up to sit beside you and pulled you into her arms as she shushed you quietly. “Hey hey…everything is gonna be alright princess. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere I promise.” She reassured you once more.

“Come on princess. Go to sleep. Here you can even climb in my lap and sleep in my arms. I know that’s where you feel most comfortable.” She said and you immediately got into her lap and hid your face in her chest as she holds you close to her. She ran your fingers through your hair as she softly hums her song “I love you.” To you to help you fall asleep. Which worked because before the song was over Billie could hear soft little snores coming out of your mouth. She smiled to herself and saw her family watch from afar and give her two thumbs up which signaled that you could officially stay with them however long you need you. Billie couldn’t wait to tell you when you wake up.

A/n: hey anon I hope you enjoyed this and I hope the rest of y’all enjoy it too! I have many more Billie stories coming out soon and mommy!billie too :) remember to stay hydrated and to rest. I love y’all :)

[mangekyuou]

If you are up to it and haven’t already done it. Could you pretty please write head cannons of the kid, heart, and straw hat pirates as parents. My favorite one is killer.

★ THEM AS PARENTS! headcanons ★

── featuring. sanji. zoro. kid. killer.

── cw. gn!reader. no pronouns used. no mentions of pregnancy. whole cake island and wano spoilers. me rambling again. not proofread.

── notepad. usually my limit is 3 but i added one more bcuz i felt inspired. it’s been awhile since ive written so i feel out of practice and these feel all over the place im so sorry. but i will say, i love you girl dad zoro and killer. i could talk about them forever

★ VINSMOKE SANJI ★

── unlike everyone else, sanji HAS thought about settling down and having kids. he thinks about it at least twenty times a day. every time he looks at you, he’s always thinking about your future together

── so when your twin boy and girl show up in your lives, he couldn’t be happier. he’s never been happier. life is finally coming together the both of you

── he loves your twins with all of his heart, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t want any more children. he’s already dreamed of having a big family that he can share all of his love and care with. and because he already had at least four baby names picked out

── given his own upbringing that he never ever plans to tell your children about, sanji takes his fatherly role very seriously. he does everything in his power to be better than his own father

── never will he allow any of his children to take his surname. he would prefer if they took yours or even adopted a new one altogether

── never will there be any middle child syndrome or favoritism between your kids. he loves each of them equally and does pretty well at spreading out his time with each of them, making all of them feel loved and cared for

── every night he gives everyone a long tearful good night before sending them all their separate ways like he’s never going to see them again….they’re just down the hall

── he is a very emotional father. no matter what your children do, milestone or not, he will sob. first words and steps, sobbing. finally being able to dress themselves, sobbing. nearly setting the kitchen on fire attempting to make him a birthday cake, he sobbed all day and tried to eat the inedible cake despite you telling him NOT to

── he was sick for a few weeks after that. how the cake was both overcooked and undercooked at the same time, neither of you could ever figure it out

── his favorite family activity is cooking together. he loves cooking for each of you, but there’s something about teaching your little ones all of his favorite recipes, or even learning how to make a whole new dish altogether, that warms his heart. plus seeing them all get along and work together as a team brings joyful tears to his eyes

── but he can definitely be the indulgent parent. all his kids have to do is flash him the puppy eyes and a pout and he’s a goner, leaving you to play the authoritative parent and say no

── he is also the affectionate, embarrassing, and petty dad, always smothering the little ones in hugs no matter how old they get

── they could be in their late teens and he’ll still hug them the same as he did when they were small. or he’ll embarrass them in front of their friends by yelling how much he loves them and expects them to say ‘i love you’ back OR he’s not going to let them go anywhere

★ RORONOA ZORO ★

── girl dad

── the thought of being a dad never crossed his mind. he was focused on his goal at hand, becoming the greatest swordsman. he wasn’t exactly sure having a kid would fit in that

── but he was going to have to figure it out because resting in his arms was an infant girl with the most precious cheeks

── you don’t have to worry much about your daughter, even in infancy your daughter adopted your husband’s calm and quiet nature. she even adopted his napping habits

── if he’s asleep out on the deck in the sun, she’s asleep out on the deck, either in his chest or in his lap. and no one dares to wake them, especially not after that time when usopp and sanji were arguing too loud, causing your daughter to stir in her sleep, alerting zoro immediately. in a matter of seconds, he held your baby in one hand and his unsheathed sword in the other

── nap time is a VERY serious thing

── though your daughter’s favorite place to rest is on his back. no matter how awake she may seem, the minute he wraps her in the baby wrap, she’s suddenly very sleepy

── if you’re looking for your daughter and you don’t immediately see her, don’t panic. nine times out of ten, she’s on zoro’s back napping

── she is always present during his training sessions in a little swing franky made and surprised you both with that way he can train and keep an eye on her at the same time. maybe that’s why your little girl ended up showing so much interest in swords as she grew up

── like father, like daughter. your daughter began her road to being a swordsman with zoro as her teacher. he learns from his own past failures, in guiding her to be an even better swordsman than him

── not only giving her the skills she needs to wield a blade, but also skills she will need to grow as a person

── when he is sure he has trained her well enough for them to spar, he will do so without mercy. she may lose a number of times, but to never give up is a skill he instilled in her since the beginning of her training

── and when she finally does best her father, he cannot hide just how proud he is. he’s in all dad mode

★ EUSTASS KID ★

── kid never pictured being in a stable relationship, let alone settling down and having children. he didn’t have much experience with children

── in reality, being a father scared him. it was uncharted waters. he didn’t know the first thing about being a good dad. he knew kids were a lot of work, and he didn’t know if he could handle it

── more importantly, he was worried he was going to let both you and your child down. and he couldn’t live with that

── but here he was now struggling his way through the baby and toddler stages. but through his mistakes and errors, as opposed to getting angry and giving up, like he usually does, he’s gaining patience and trying his best. that’s all anyone could ever ask for

── he becomes a natural over time. no longer needing you to intervene to keep your son from crying up a storm. if it’s taking a little longer than usual to put your son to sleep, and you offer to help, he will decline. his stubbornness and pride won’t allow him to accept your help

── if there’s one thing kid hates more than anything, it’s anyone thinking he can’t take care of his son

── it’s not uncommon to see the captain of the kid pirates to be seen around the victoria punk your son strapped to his chest

── it’s hard to take him seriously when he’s barking out orders to the crew and your excitable little one is reaching up to pinch and pull at his father’s cheeks and nose

── kid claims to not be a dad who cries, but he definitely does cry, oftentimes more than you do

── your son’s first word is definitely a swear word. kid thinks it’s hilarious seeing your son scream fuck

── as your son ages, the more he becomes just like his father. and with age comes the attitude, which does not mesh well with kid’s attitude

── never in a million years would you think you would find kid losing a loud argument to your fussy toddler son about nothing

── and it does not change. it continues to get worse as your son begins to form his own opinions. your son and kid clash even more, leading you to be the mediator between their arguments

── or at points when they stop talking altogether, you have to relay messages to the other because they refuse to be in the same room with each other

── kid wants to start your son off young when it comes to training him, wanting the little one to be hell just like him. if your son expresses interest in learning how to fight, kid is overjoyed but does not plan to take it easy on him just because they’re blood

── if your son has no interest in fighting and wants to lead a peaceful life, kid will be disappointed and it will take some time for it to get out of his system. but he ultimately will support his son’s decisions

── kid has a habit of ruffling your son’s hair or knocking heads as his way of showing affection. that’s just how it has always been since he was born. but the day your son decides to leave the ship to start the new chapter of his life is the first time they share a real hug

★ KILLER ★

── killer is prime girl dad material. king of girl dads, if you will. he’s a natural. well, he becomes a natural after he gets over his fear of holding your daughter

── he has led a complicated life up to this point. it is not something he regrets, but it is something that he worries could affect his family

── these calloused hands have killed, been stained with the blood of dozens, he had lost count. these were not the hands that should hold such a pure soul

── the first time he actually held her was in the middle of the night when she woke up crying in the middle of the night. he pondered on waking you but decided against it seeing you sound asleep. it has been a while since you had gotten a good sleep. you deserved your rest

── he had watched you countless times lull your little one back to sleep. he remembered how you did it, trying his best to keep his shaky hands still, reaching into your little’s crib, gently taking her into his arms

── who knew saying “please don’t cry” in a sweet low voice would be enough to calm her ??

── quite a sight you awoke to, seeing your husband passed out in a chair with your daughter still asleep in his arms

── it became part of his routine, every time she woke up in the middle of the night, he was going to take care of it. when she was old enough to sleep in the bed with the two of you, you better believe she took her place in the middle and kept it well into her late childhood, early teens

── they are attached at the hip. wherever she is, he is and vice versa, no matter the situation

── like the one time the kid called for an emergency meeting and killer could not find you in time so he just took your daughter with him

── everyone was on their best behavior because you had already warned them that if her first word was a swear word you would murder each of them and spread their body parts across the grand line for the sea king to feast upon

── ….they were not going to take the chances

── just your luck, your daughter inherited killer’s luscious hair. no matter what you do to it, no matter how hard you attempt to gel it down, it shoots right back up

── but killer’s got it. he does her hair most days because she prefers it that way they end up matching

── there are two things about killer that he is still very sensitive about. his appearance and his laugh, both things he tries to hide from your daughter. though it is easier to hide his appearance than his laugh

── after everything happened in wano, he was ashamed. he couldn’t bear letting her see him like this. he wanted her to remember him the way he used to look. he wasn’t ready to show her, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready.

── until he was ready, he allows her to place her hands on his mask and put together what she thinks he looks like.

── currently, she envisions him to be a snake monster under his mask

© MANGEKYUOU — do not copy, repost, or translate my works.

[furiousgoldfish]

When I was a little kid, I asked my mother 'What does a child need to survive in a desert?'. She wouldn't give me a straight answer, so I had to pull it out of her bit by bit. Would a child live if they had fruit? 'That's not enough', she said. Would it work if the child had milk? 'Maybe'. I kept asking what else, and then she put the dots together, and figured out why I was asking. 'Children can't survive without their mother', she told me curtly. I frowned, not liking this response. 'But, if they had fruit and milk?' I insisted. 'No. Child can't survive without a mother. Don't even think about it.'

But, I was thinking about it, and she knew it. She knew I was trying to find a way to escape the house we were living in. I was 6, maybe 7 at the time. She repeated over and over to me, you would die outside this house. Nobody else would take you in, there's no place for you anywhere else. You would only be a burden.

I didn't like that. I didn't like the idea of being a burden anywhere. But, I supposed she was right, other people didn't need a stray kid.

In my quest of not being a burden, I wanted to learn how to work. In the house I lived in, there were countless chores to be done, but somehow I was always stuck with the ones that required no knowledge or skill. Put the logs over there, clean, carry this over there, sweep, scrub, throw, wash, dig, gather, relocate, hold, lift, put down, bury, shut up, and don't ask questions. I wouldn't get any answers even if I did ask, why am I doing this, whats it for? I wasn't to know. I was kept blind, following orders, up to myself to figure out what was this a part of.

When I'd be ordered to do something I didn't know how, I would be told I 'should have learned it by watching others do it', but I was never free to watch while others worked. In fact, if anyone in the house was doing anything, and I was sitting or lying down, I would be screamed at for 'just watching others work and doing nothing'.

Reaching adulthood, I really wanted to know about cooking, but mother always chased me out of the kitchen if she was making something, or she would chore me with 'peeling the vegetables', which would then take all of my attention. I tried to sneak into the kitchen and learn by myself, but she chased me away as soon as she'd catch me, telling me off for 'wasting resources'. But, as she noticed my inclination, she decided to inform me, in a very clear manner, that I would never in my life know how to cook. You see, I was clumsy, slow, stupid, and would always only mess it up and waste precious ingredients. It was far above my abilities to learn how to cook. She gave me a clove of garlic to cut, and I couldn't do it well on my first try. She told me it was a proof that I was 'no good'. Then she gave me an onion to cut, and yelled at me for 'taking too long'. Now it was proven twice over. I couldn't cook. Everything would be ruined because I was taking too long to cut the vegetables. Also, I didn't know where food was even stored in the kitchen. She would never show me. (The food was stored in boxes in the basement. I would find out years later.)

With a heavy heart, I gave up on learning how to cook, and resigned myself to feeling forever guilty for 'eating their food', which was something my family regularly held over my head. You know, after I helped digging, working the soil, sowing, planting, weeding and spraying, it was still their land, and their food, and I 'had no right to it'. They were careful never to show me how to actually grow food, but just kept me busy with menial tasks that were never explained to me.

I was convinced my mother was a good person, because she usually wouldn't forbid me to eat, and if she wanted me to do a task, she would tell me in a humane way. For example 'Can you do x?'. The other family members had a more crude way, something like 'Why are you waiting to be told, do I have to spell out everything to you??' so her polite manner had completely won me over, I would have done anything for my sickly, poor, kind and generous mother, who was so worried for my troubled self, who couldn't learn how to do anything, or survive outside the house.

Even though my mother repeated through the years, that I would never be able to do anything, and also berated me if I ever tried to learn a new skill because 'it was worthless and wouldn't earn me any money', I would still sometimes gather a bit of momentum and courage, and figure hey, I should try to get a job. It would take months to gather that kind of confidence. And one such time, I announced my intentions, I'm going to look for a job! My mother laughed without looking at me. 'Who would hire you? You can't do anything.' Poof. That was my balloon of confidence, popping and then deflating into a tiny bulb. I didn't think she had any reason to lie to me. She knew me all my life. If she was confident that I can't do anything... then it had to be true. Otherwise why would she say that?

The rest of the family, of course, agreed. My grandmother, she had fantastic stories to share with me about how quickly I would be kidnapped, robbed, murdered, tortured, sold into slavery, you know all that good stuff that happens to every person outside their parents house. My father, who inherited massive amounts of land, 2 houses, illegally got his hands on a third, earned a very formidable salary, and constantly had me working for free for him, told me that it was in fact, impossible for a person to survive out there without inheritance. I frowned because I didn't agree with this, and I asked, what about the people who get a job and move into the city? They were living just from their wages. He shook his head and said that it may look like that, but they're all just living from their family's resources. I was old enough to not believe him. It's him who couldn't live without his inheritance, because he's an idiot, I thought.

So, I finally got to earn some money online. It was slow, and very tiny amount, I was freelancing and there was no consistent income, but my enthusiasm on being able to earn anything, was strong. After all, I had earned absolutely nothing working for my family for forever, and this was mine. I remember securing a big project and rushing to reassure my mother, to tell her that I was in fact, good for something, and she didn't have to worry anymore, I was going to make something of myself.

'You will never get another project again.' Her face was dead serious. 'You were lucky once. Don't count on this happening again'. I was speechless. Self doubt swallowed me whole. Was this only one-time occurrence? Was I stupid to believe it would happen again? I despaired. She was my mother, and she was older than me, and she knew the world better than I did. She wouldn't say this for no reason. Could she be right?

She brought it up to the rest of the family, and they all had things to say about it. 'Online work isn't real. The money doesn't even exist. You'll never see it. Show us where is this money. You can't, can you? And even if it does exist, it will all get stolen from you'.

Leaving me wrapped in my survival panic attack, they went on with their day, satisfied that they put me back in my place (which was an ongoing panic attack). I eventually recovered, and continued to work on projects. I was approached and told I would fail constantly, but even then, what could I do but work with my anxiety levels up to the roof and wait to fail? I had to try.

I didn't believe I would make it, because my mother's words 'you'll die, you'll die' were on repeat in my head, but I realized I would die in that house anyway, so I ran away from home. My mother was worried about me; she was in fact, so worried she called every person who knew me, all of friends, relatives, their kids, and told them about how badly worried she was for me, and how I needed to come back home. These people, well they were all worried too you see, so they had to call me, to tell me that I'm breaking my mother's heart, that I don't know how it feels to have a child and not know if their child is okay, apparently she was crying every time it rained because she thought I might be outside in the rain.

My guilt was activated, but I knew just what to do to resolve this situation. I responded to my mother's call, and she told me too, that she was dying from worry, so I said, listen! Listen to what I have! And I went around the apartment, and I listed all of the groceries I had bought and stored. I listed everything out to her, and then explained how to make multiple meals, I offered proof to her that I had already, in this short time, learned how to cook, and I was doing fine. I was sure she'd be so relieved to know that her child had food.

In my mind we were continuing the conversation we had when I was six. I have milk and fruit now mommy. You said I might survive if I have that.

'Okay, we KNOW you can do everything yourself--' She interrupted me angrily, unwilling to listen to my ongoing list of resources and skills. I froze. '--but you need to think about what you're doing to us and come back home!'

I hung up. Unbelieving. Two things I've been told in that sentence, and I had a hard time believing either. She- they- KNEW I could do everything myself. Since when? For how long? How could she possibly say this, after telling me my whole life, not only that I didn't know anything, but was too stupid to even learn? She knew I was capable the entire time? She knew I'd do just fine? And, she was angry about it. Hearing the list of resources and skills I had, it made her livid. After crying to all these people, and convincing me she was dying out of worry, she wasn't worried even one little bit. It was all fake. The entire time. She could either tell I was capable the entire time, or.. she never cared enough to even tell. It didn't matter. It only mattered that she convinced me that I can't survive. So I wouldn't run. So I would stay in that house, and so she could watch her violent husband, and violent mother in law beat me and call me animal names. While blocking my only possible exit.

Later I found out she changed her story. She was now telling people that I was now 'rich but so selfish I would not give any of my money to her'. It was almost funny. Her perspective of me rapidly shifted from 'incapable idiot who cannot survive' to 'selfish rich snob who won't give money'.

It stung. I had spent my life trying to protect her. Even after running, all I could think was how badly I wanted to take her away from that violent place, how much I wanted happiness for her. She watched me dying in that house and blocked my exit. She threw me back into the hands of violence and cheered them on as they broke me. She watched a kid being broken and told that kid they could not live, except if they stay and continue being broken, over and over again. I got jealous of all of the mothers who helped their kids escape. And of all the kids whose mothers escaped, taking them with. Keeping them safe. Why wasn't I worth keeping safe? But I can't look back in that way. That's not it. There was nobody to keep me safe. Nobody was my mother. Nobody was my parent.

My six year old self reached their goal. What does a child need to survive in a desert? Some fruit. And some milk. And some other groceries also don't hurt. And definitely not a mother like this one.

[bearieio]

ellie & abby w/ a latina partner

warnings:  fluff! , fem!reader + r is latina ;)

a/n:  in honor of hispanic heritage month!!!! we blowin’ this bitch up. with my headcanons, that is. mostly mexican headcanons (for the reader), because that’s really the only dialect/tradition & cultural that i know ┐( ˘ ､ ˘ )┌

also, SUPPORT HISPANIC/LATINO WRITERS, ARTISTS, AND BUSINESSES!!!! or else... >:(

abby WOULD DEFINITELY try learning spanish. she’d pick it up here and there because of manny, but the farther you guys develop into the relationship, the more she wants to immerse herself within your culture and your language.

and dare i say it, but she’s pretty darn good at speaking spanish.

the first time she speaks spanish to you, it catches you off guard.

you’d come home from your day out with your friends and she’d just peek out from around the corner like, “mi amor, que pasa?”

“Q-QUE?! WHAT?”

“WHAT?! did i say something wrong, babe?” she asks, a frown forming on her face.

“oh no, mi corazon, you just caught me off guard!” you smile, reaching up to caress her rosy cheeks, “have you finally been pickin’ up what i’ve been puttin’ down, abs?” 

she scoffs playfully, “supongo, reinita.”

"okay white girlllll~"

abby would love helping you in the kitchen, cooking up your favorite traditional meals.

but sometimes she’d make a mistake, putting the wrong seasoning in the rice, overcooking the beans, or burning the tortillas. (😭) and you’d temporarily ban her form the kitchen, meaning she’d only be able to watch you.

but every once in a while, she’d remind you about the mole or the broth for the caldo de res. 

you’re grateful she reminds you and she’s just happy to be of service.

if you’re not mexican specifically, she’d most likely start arguments between you and manny about the differences in the dialects and slang since she’s not too familiar with the other latin slang out there. but she does her best

if you happen to be brazilian, she’ll do her best to research and become more familiar with the portuguese language and the brazilian culture.

if you’re haitian, she’ll love learning creole and/or french for you since she’s more familiar with french. (i have a feeling she’s had french lessons in the past/someone she knew was french so she learned it from them!)

ellie BUTCHERS the FUCK outta some words in spanish. like she genuinely CANNOT pronounce “cuatro.” like…

but it’s okay because you know what she’s trying to say…. most of the time.

“quieres comer, mamashita?" with heavy pronunciation on the “shi” sound.

you stare at her for a moment, trying to figure out if she’s be funny or not. “what?”

“what?” she replies

“baby thats not-“

ellie is banned from the kitchen. permanently. she is not allowed anywhere NEAR that bigass pot on the stove. 

when you find her sneaking into the kitchen when she’s trying to steal a tamale, you can’t help but giggle as you try and drag her away from the stove.

“ellie i already told you twice!- you can't be in here!!” 

“YOU CANT MAKE ME!” 

*insert that meme of the kid running away w/ the knife*

ellie LOVES dancing with you. whether its cumbia, salsa, bachata, or samba, ellie is IN IT! 

i think cumbias her fave (bc it’s my fav). and she’s the best at it.

whenever she’s invited to the carne asada, she’s the only one that all your cousins, your tias, and your abuela want to dance with. 

by the 9th-10th song, she’s already complaining about how she’s ready to go to sleep (and she does in your old room at your family’s house) and how she underestimated your grandma’s stamina.

mi amor, que pasa? = my love, what’s going on/how are you? 

mi corazon = my heart

supongo, mi reinita = i guess, my little queen

quieres comer? = do you want to eat?

constructive criticism is appreciated !!!

[luveline]

Maybe a Eddie and Roan where Roan gets into an argument with one of her friend/classmate and she’s like really grumpy and reader and Eddie try and cheer her up or even defuse the situation??

tysm ♡ eddie and roan

Roan toddles out of her classroom with her eyes on the floor until she reaches Eddie's legs. He frowns at her in surprise, smoothing the frizz of her curls away from her forehead. "Hello," he says. 

"Everything okay?" you ask. 

That morning at the kitchen table, when you told Roan you'd be there at pick up with her dad (the two of you taking a much needed day off to waste together in bed doing alternate loads of laundry), she smiled and climbed into your lap. "Good," she said, her lips shiny with waffle syrup, "I'll make you a present in arts and crafts."

"You will? Thanks, baby," you'd said. 

The present isn't anywhere to be seen now, nor is your sparkling girl. Roan rubs her cheek against Eddie's legs without greeting you. Eddie takes the hint and leans down to take her into his arms. He sighs as he stands, ducking his head to hers. 

"Hello," he says again, gentler now. "Bad day?" 

She sniffles and puts her face in his shirt collar. Eddie covers the back of her head, his eyes wide. What the fuck, he mouths, surprise melding into something worse. He hates when Roan's upset like this. Her tantrums are loud but her real tears are always quiet, and you can see the moment Eddie's heart breaks, her hands gripping his hair urgently. 

"Hey, okay, don't worry, bubby…" He nods his head back the way you came, and you follow at his elbow, crestfallen. 

He prods at it as you walk to the car. What happened? and Talk to me, babe. Roan stops crying and turns silent, until the concern gets too much. 

"I'm sure whatever it is, we can make it better. You just have to tell me what happened, roly-poly."

"Nothing! Nothing happened, dad, stop." 

Eddie rubs her shoulders. "Alright. If you say so." 

You open the car door for them and Eddie covers the top of Roan's head as he tucks her in. She's definitely reaching an age where all this carrying is unnecessary, but Eddie always says he has muscles for a reason. You like to roll your eyes, and, secretly, think it's amazingly sweet. He's like that. 

"Want me to come and sit in the back?" you ask. 

"No." 

"Are you sure? We can play pat-a-cake, or thumb wrestle?" 

"I don't want to." 

More of the same on the drive home. Eddie suggests ice cream, movies, McDonald's. Roan stares out the window and refuses to answer. Safe to say, you both hate it. It's your worst nightmare to know that somethings wrong but not know what that something is. 

"Let's go to Leaven," you whisper. 

Eddie raises his eyebrows at you, though he takes the turn, whispering back, "Why Leaven?" 

"We can buy her some fancy cupcakes and new pyjamas and stuff. And a tape, whatever she wants."

"We can't just buy her happiness," Eddie says. 

"Really?" 

"...Maybe." 

You park up in the family spaces near the front of Leaven and Eddie insists upon himself from car to store. "Please hold my hand, babe, I'll get lost in Leaven by myself," he whines, waving his hand at her. "I won't know where to go if you don't steer me." 

"Fine!" she says, taking his hand furiously. 

"Do you want to know why we're here, lovely girl?" you ask. 

"No." 

"Roan, don't be mean," Eddie says reproachfully. 

"I'm not mean, dad." 

"You're being a little tiny bit mean. We should try to be nice to the people we love even when we have bad days. Work is very very hard, but I try to pick you up from school and be happy because you haven't done anything wrong." 

"I don't want to be happy," she pouts, twisting her head away from you both. 

Eddie huffs playfully and grabs her from behind. Arms under her armpits, he swings her around and chuckles maliciously in her ear. "Silly girl left herself open for my evil plan," he croons, the voice of a character from one of his campaigns that gives you and Roan the shivers. 

You grab a kart and push the children's seat out for Eddie to slide her in. "Trapped!" he declares, squeezes the arms of her vinyl coat. "And there's nothing you can do to stop us!" 

Roan struggles to pretend she doesn't find it funny. "Stop what?" she asks, exaggeratedly unhappy to maintain her grumpy facade. 

"We're going to spoil you, duh," he says, voice back to normal. "What should we get first, my love?" he asks you. "Cupcakes?" 

"Best get cupcakes before they run out of the pink bunnies." 

Roan's lips quirk at the name of her favourite ones. "Are we really having pink bunnies?" she asks. 

"We're having anything that will make you smile," Eddie says. 

You link your arm through his for most of the journey, the smell of his cologne rich and smokey. He doesn't smell like diesel, a rare occasion, nor are his clothes mottled by oil. You look like a family meant to shop at Leaven (sort of, you aren't so decked in designer as the wealthy Hawkinites). Roan perks a little as you pick cupcakes from the bakery counter, their gold foil wrappers reflected in the brown wells of her eyes. Eddie lets her eat one as you walk around so long as she puts the wrapper in the bag when she's done. 

From there, you choose pyjamas, a stuffie shaped like a frog, and a breadcrumb covered tray of mac and cheese. You pick up things you don't need as you go, fancy brownies in a tub and clothes softener. The best part is the deliberating, you and Eddie and Roan taking turns sniffing the caps and debating which one smells best. You settle on deep sea minerals, probably because Roan likes the seahorse on the front. 

"You're a traitor," you say, putting back the scent you'd preferred with put upon disappointment.

Roan giggles sweetly. Like a plug pulled, a levy unburdened, she laughs from the checkout to the car, all the way home. You barely notice how dark it's become, focused on the loving heat of Eddie's hand on your knee and Roan's renewed smile. 

Later, once she's had a bath and you're all in your pyjamas, Eddie asks her again what upset her, and she gives a teary answer. One of the Stacey's said her hair looked ugly, and Roan agreed with her. 

"Bubby, your hair's not ugly," you say, chucking her under the chin. Eddie, her chair, leans his chin over her shoulder to agree. 

"It's beautiful." 

She sniffles. "I said it was ugly, and it's not nice because daddy has the same hair." She sputters wetly, tears squeezing from the corners of her eyes. "I'm really sorry." 

"Aw, Ro." Eddie hugs her with both arms tight to his stomach. "Don't be sorry, you don't have anything to be sorry for. Stacy shouldn't say you have ugly hair– you have beautiful hair. So shiny and bouncy. I promise you it's perfect." 

You smile at Roan encouragingly. "Your hair is soooo super pretty. Just like your dad's." 

"You think so?" 

"I know so." You coil a curl around your finger. When you let it go, it springs away and falls against her face. 

Roan relaxes into Eddie's chest. He rubs her upper arm, a similar relief on his pert features. 

"Is there anything else wrong?" Eddie asks. 

Roan closes her eyes, dark lashes kissing her cheek. "I think I have a tummy ache." 

"I bet you do, babe. Why don't we lie down for a bit?" 

Roan agrees wholeheartedly. It's a tight squeeze, but the three of you manage to lay on your couch, the smell of sugary pink icing stuck to your fingers and the warm scent of mac and cheese floating in from the kitchen.