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orionchildofhades · 8 months

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steddie swapping soulmate au part 6

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Walking the halls of highschool for the first time ever is more than a little intimidating.

Steve remembered the way his father had announced all and every single of his expectation before leaving.

the name Harrington means something around here and Steve has to remind everyone of it.

but those thoughts were easily out of the window by the idea of his soulmate.

just thinking of it was enough to make his heart beat fast, faster than any of the cars his father had shown him during the trips this summer.

and he might meet him just today

him

he remembered waking up, fifteen for barely a couple of day, in a new bed. in his soulmate's. in Eddie's.

relief, to find the proof of it, of him being meant for someone else, had soon left room for a frantic panic has he realised how he had turned into panic.

he was in a boy's body, and even though he did not mean to peek, his soulmate had gone to sleep in a lack of close that left almost nothing to the imagination.

except from a pair of boxer hiding the worst, he could see everything from shoulder length hair to very flat chest to a single pierced nipple that Steve had hurried to cover in the first shirt he found on the floor.

said floor had been covered in a frenzy of notebooks and clothes and a couple of papers crumbled and thrown in the vague direction of a trash can.

horror upon the view had taken hold of Steve's chest, hearing from here the screech his mother would let out of she ever found his own room in such a state before a startled laugh burst out of his lips.

it was so fucked up.

his father would kill him if he learnt his soulmate was another man.

but after a second, or a minute, of careful breath, Steve had stood up and went around the room, something reverent burning softly in his chest. his hands had followed the wood of the shelves, the spines of well loved books, caressed the glossy red of a stunning electric guitar.

it was scary.

it was exalting.

the idea of soulmate had always been a far away dream. no tangible reality to cling to. his parents relationship could be described as rocky at best and they always told everyone they were soulmates, the perfect couple written in the stars, god sent and blessed by the heavens.

(wait a couple of days of seeing him around before talking)

but they weren't exactly perfect.

they were screams and silences, evenings spent without a word, sharing a meal without warmth. they were wine bottles and glass full of bourbon. they were blank eyes upon harsh words. orders and expectation. they were not there.

the idea of a soulmate had always been a far away nightmare. something he wished so badly was different, would not happen to him, something binding him and someone else who would offer him nothing but quiet and loneliness.

but this room... it had been full of life. so unlike all his family had ever shown him.

it was like what his grandparents had tried to show little Steve once before they died and their memories faded in the past of a life that was not his anymore.

it was life and personality and a slight ordeal of chaos and, while Steve roamed the room, he slowly learned that, maybe, just a small and quiet maybe, this soulmate might not be so bad.

and he had learned about him, about Eddie. About this boy a year older than him, who lived with his uncle in a trailer park, who cooked and burned eggs when he was too preoccupied by his music but who, apparently, could make killer pancakes when he wanted. about the way he grew up, vaguely, hints here and there from Patricia, another soulmate, just as sweet as the smell of the cookies they had cooked, and much nicer than his own parents. once more.

maybe this all soulmate business is not as terrible as i thought, maybe the only terrible soulmates are my parents.

the voice was quickly shut down.

nonetheless, Steve had had the time of his life for a couple hours, using all the time he had to bath in the warmth of it all.

and the best part ? his soulmate lived in Hawkins.

So Steve walks down the halls of this new school, apprehention burning beneath his skin and the shimmer of excitment making everything glow a little bit brighter.

After all, not many soulmate can meet each other so soon. Wouldn't it be fantastic to actually learn from him, instead of through him?

Steve spends a few days trying to get a hold of the situation, understand the dynamics of the school and get a look at his soulmate.

He signs up in a few clubs, excited to see all the sports team he can join. He hangs around a couple of friends he had since childhood, the daughter of one of his dad's co-worker and the son of his mom's favorite neighbour.

Carol and Tommy. Carol was nice, a bit loud when she wanted attention and excited like never before to storm the world. Tommy had always been quieter, sticking to his friends and waiting for things to unfold. The three of them were close, years spent at each other's house, playing and fighting like children do, growing into gossiping and sharing secrets.

He did not yet told them about Eddie though.

Simply because Eddie is his to keep and his to know.

Soon, he thinks, i'll meet him soon.

At lunch this day, Steve sits between Carol and Tommy, a couple of older students across from them with smiles on their faces. The eldest Haggans, Richard, is senior and smile devishly at his brother when he annonces he joined the basketball team, laughing at his brother's expense when he explained he might try to get a scholarship this way. They all run in the same circles, even came several time at the Harrington's household when they organised parties for work.

In the corner of his eyes, he spies Eddie comming in the cafeteria alongside his friends. In the last week, he gleaned as many information about him as possible. He intends to see if he can talk to him after class during his club activities, perhaps even join it if he manages to find a way to hide it from his father.

He doesn't really understand the whole role playing business. Patricia had tried to tell him what she knew of it, which was not a lot. Things about magic and dragons and maths? somehow. Still, Steve became curious and couldn't wait to discover more about his soulmate.

Eddie's eyes slid on him across the room, before snorting at a joke from his friend. A bit of bread is thrown across the table, hitting one of the people on his cheek before they started bickering in midly wild gesture. He didn't glance at him a second time.

That is another strange thing about this situation.

Eddie had not come to him at all.

Steve has an excuse, except for his slight nervousness obviously. he barely knows the way to his classroom. Eddie on the other end, had all the time in the world to look for him.

But it was fine.

Steve remembers the way his head pounded when he came back to his room after swapping, to his body. Ideas and names might not be the clearest thing to remember.

All of it would certainly come back when, this afternoon, Steve would go to him.

It is with a sliht tremor in his hands and sweat dripping down his back that he makes his way toward the room in which the Hellfire club holds session. But the hope is stronger than the fear, the idea of someone taking care of him and being loved by him so important his heart swells and he steps forward, hand ready to knock.

the doors open by themselves, or rather by Eddie, who stands being them, arms wide open, towering over him with a hint of darkness behind his eyes.

"Well, would you look at that. A lost sheep." He announces with a booming voice, a sly grin on his lips. Steve can't tell whether it is directed at him or at his expense.

Nervousness creeps back, clinging at his shoulders and his cheeks tint lightly.

Behind Eddie, the rest of the club observes the scene with keen eyes, not saying anything. The table in the middle of the room is filled with papers, dice and small dolls? more like the things in the monopoly, thown across the board. They probably represent the characters, Steve realises.

"I, hum, I came to talk to you?" That sounded wrong. More like a question than an actual answer.

Shaking his head, Steve tries to stand a bit taller, straightning his back and looks at Eddie in the eyes. Big eyes, full of all the life he found in his room last time.

He shouldn't be scared. This is his soulmate. No use being nervous.

"And what would a Harrington want with little old me?"

Surprise hits Steve in the chest.

So he does know who I am?

Doubt starts to creep it's way into his brain.

"I wanted to join your club," he says, he glances behind his soulmate once more to look at who he thinks is the head of the club, trying to send a smile her way.

"And what club would that be?"

With a frown, Steve drags out his answer, "Hellfire," he reads of Eddie's shirt even if he knows it, showing the design with a finger and grin, hopping to take the strange tension in the air own a notch, "the dragons and dungeons club?"

Someone snorts in the room and Eddie's eyes darken slightly.

"Listen, we don't accept jocks here, everyone heard the loud statements you and your little friends are making by joining every sport club okay, and we don't accept the kind of people who hangs out with Richard fucking Haggan. This was a funny encounter, now move along."

His throat swells with telltale feeling of tears. Confusion and a strange pain course through his body. He takes a step back, frowning, trying to come up with something to understand why his soulmate, who clearly told him he recognised him, rejects him like that.

Did Steve do something?

"But, I wanted to-"

"Not interested," Eddie finishes.

The doors clap back right in his face, leaving him alone in the empty corridor, alone with the turmoil of feelings hacking at his heart and brain.

he swallows up tears before nodding vaguely.

well, that was just humiliating.

---

i love angst :)

remember, both Eddie and Steve are years younger than what we see in the show. We meet Eddie when he is 20/21 yo in s4, and Steve is 17/18 in s1 and 19/20 in s4. Here they are -barely turned-15 for Steve and 16 for Eddie. I decided to change a few things about how they act compared to later.

hope you liked Steve POV

this chapter is longer than my usal!

(i started this fic during my holidays and i only had my phone to type on, this is on a computer, therefore, longer. And with probably with more typos)

#i think eddie started dming very fast #he had a calling for narration #and dramatics #if we're all being honest #so yeah #sophomore eddie is the dm #maybe not the sole one in the club but the main one #not head of the club tho #steddie #steve harrington #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #orionwritesthingies

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artists-ally · 4 hours

Note

Hello sweetheart 😘 I really really adore your writing so much ! So, I dare to send in an idea as well 🥰 maybe you're dating Harvey but he barely had time for you lately, so one time he wants to surprise you with dinner at his apartment and you enjoy your time together. Then you both end your evening with lovely passionate smut and lots of cuddles afterwards. In the morning he wakes up before you and takes time in admiring you, realizing how happy he is to have you ? Hope that's not too cheesy ❤️ thank you so much in advance!

{Warm} Reader x Harvey Specter

This has been sitting in my inbox for god knows how long. I thank you for your patience my dear. I love this idea so much, and this song Warm by SG Lewis is just perfect. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. P.S. nothing is EVER too cheesy for me to write <3

Word Count: 3,998

Warnings: Just some good ole fluff and smut, some very soft dom!Harvey.

Tagging: @rosedpetal @blacktreacle22

Summary: After a particularly brutal month in the office, you've noticed some changes. Harvey is just... not present. Rather than demanding his attention, you just simply float by, knowing eventually he'll return his negligence. And boy does he ever.

~~~~~

“Yn, you really just need to grow a set and tell Harvey he’s being a jackass,” Donna scolds through the phone.

I roll my eyes, “Donna, I told you before. I don’t mind. He’s focused on winning this case, and it quite literally is the life and death of this firm. So, while I appreciate your ‘words of affirmation’, I didn’t ask for them.”

“I know, I just hate to see you so neglected.”

“Oh please,” I pff, flipping my head to move a chunk of hair out of my eye. “Neglected is probably the last thing I am. I can entertain myself. I actually haven’t minded the space. Every once and a while it’s good to go back to the basics. I’ve finally learned how to take care of the plants, I can make a mean lasagna too. I’ve even gotten back into reading. For fun.”

“Sheesh, clearly something is wrong if you’ve been reading voluntarily.”

I snickered. “I don’t know, I saw a book recommendation on instagram and fell in love. Childhood penpals turned strangers, turned back to penpals and she found out he’s the world's biggest rock star and he’s been writing songs about her the entire time.”

“Sounds exactly like the fairytale mushy-gushy shit you love. How you found Harvey to fill those shoes I’ll never understand.”

“He’s just… I don’t know, exactly what I need? My life is perpetually disorganized and he’s too organized. We balance each other out. It just works, and I love our life. I love our dynamic, and I love him. Since he’s so busy, and I have the energy and mental space to, I don’t mind picking up the slack. Again, things will balance themselves back.”

Donna sighed, and I knew that flat line was on her lips. “I know, you’re always so insightful. Optimistic bitch.” I cackled a laugh. “But in all seriousness, Harvey needs you. You’re right, he is too organized. He needs you to unwind him. I know how he is, and he needs a kick in the ass every once in a while. So, if by the end of the week, he doesn’t come around a little, just push him. He’ll fold. Especially for you, and that ass of yours.”

A smile bloomed onto my face, the door of our apartment building coming into view. “Thanks Donna, I’ll let you know how tonight goes. Maybe I’ll stop by the office in the morning and bring the crew some coffee, a few bagels as well.”

“This is why you will always remain my favorite. Now go eat that Chinese food, you sexy son of a bitch.”

“How did you know I had Chinese food?”

“Because I’m Donna.” Then the line went dead.

Psycho. My psycho, but still a psycho.

I did indeed have a takeout bag hooked in my elbow filled with Chinese food. Sesame chicken and wonton soup for me, beef and broccoli with pork lo-mein for Harvey. I got a small order of pork fried rice and some scallion pancakes to share. I was about ten seconds away from crouching in an alley and eating myself into a coma.

The city streets were just beginning to fill up with Friday night festivities. Those heading to lavish dinners or exotic clubs, dressed to the nines with pristine hair and outfits. I looked down at my beat up orthopedic sneakers that kept the never ending foot pain of being a museum tour guide at bay. Here I was, surrounded by the most eccentric and busy place on earth, with absolutely nothing to do.

And that felt amazing.

I scurried up the steps to the apartment building, greeting our doorsman with a smile and a wave. He gave me one back, pulling open the big glass doors. The mild April chill vanished and the comfortable, still air caressed my cheeks. The elevator door chimed open, chimed closed, and ascended to the top.

21… 22… 23… the floors climbed and climbed. What was I going to watch? The new season of Bridgerton was out, I could watch that. No, the next season can’t possibly be as good as Charlottes. Maybe a movie? Didn’t that second Dunne one come out? I’m not sure I understand the first one enough to comprehend the second.

The ding sounds, and I step off, juggling my keys as I rattle off more ideas in my head.

There's always The Big Bang Theory, maybe Two Broke Girls? Nah, I’ve seen those a thousand times. Maybe I should watch something new. No, nothing sounds interesting. I could try to read, but I don’t wanna risk spilling anything on my book. Once in third grade, I was eating a bowl of cereal in the morning, and I spilled the entire thing on my book. If You Give A Mouse A Cookie was never the same again.

When the door opened, I toed off my sneakers, kicking them in the corner. I threw the keys in the bowl and hummed a song aimlessly. In the kitchen, I pried a plate out of the cabinet and began to spoon food onto my plate. I won’t tell Harvey, but I stole some of his lo-mein.

“Yn,” a voice spoke.

I spun so hard I knocked my hip into the kitchen island corner, a scream bubbling out. “Jesus fucking christ Harvey! You could warn me next time, fucking hell.”

My heart thrashed in my chest, my eyes going a little wonky from adrenaline. I swallowed, bending at the waist to catch my breath.

“Sorry, my love,” he smiled, coming to raise me from my hunched over position. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“A simple text would’ve been lovely,” I sighed, rising to my full height. “What the hell are you doing…”

All words died on my tongue as I looked around. The table was decorated with a white cloth, candles skewed about. There were flowers in a vase on the counter, beside it a card with two small boxes. There was champagne chilling in a metal bucket of ice, a box of chocolate covered strawberries and cherries next to it.

“Harvey, what’s all this for? Our anniversary isn’t for two months.”

He grinned, that smirk going right to my chest. “No, it’s not.”

“Then what's all… this?” I waved my hand around, noticing a few balloons blown up and taped to the archway. I somehow completely missed the rose petals lining the floor.

“It’s because I love you,” Harvey grabbed my hips, pressing our fronts together. “You’ve been… dealing with me for weeks now. My absence, my constant mood swings and lashing out. And I know what you’re gonna say-”

“That I know you’ve been stressed and need some time to focus on the case?”

Harvey tilted his head, a flat expression on his lips. “Yes. That.”

“It’s not a big deal, Harvey. I know how important work is to you, and I know that you’ve really needed to focus so the firm doesn’t crumble and-”

“But I need you to know that you are a thousand times more important than work,” he says, placing his palms on my cheeks. He kisses me softly, stealing the air from my lungs. “Then the firm,” another kiss. “And anything that has to do with that hellscape. I love you, Yn. And I don’t know what I would do without your constant flexibility with my chaotic life. So this is a very small token of my appreciation. The first part, at least.”

I hummed against his lips, letting my arms lay across his shoulders. I kiss him deeply. “The first part?”

“Mhmm,” he nodded, hands falling down my back, a less than PG-13 flex of his hands on my ass. “First, I want you to open those little boxes. Then, we’re gonna eat and have some dessert.”

“I feel like there's more to this list,” I smile, making my way back to the counter to get our food. One second to the next, Harvey gripped my arm and pulled me back into his chest. I could feel his desire pressing into me. “Looks like I’m right.”

“You’re always right,” he whispered, breath tickling my ear. He kissed the side of my neck, leaving a little bite below my ear. “Go sit, I’ll get the food.”

A new thrill fueled my body, propelling my steps to the dining room. I sat, playing with the end of the table cloth as Harvey brough everything over. The champagne, the card, the boxes and the food. Before he made his way to his seat, his palm cupped my neck and he tilted my head back. His deep, lust filled eyes locked with mine before he kissed me again.

“Open whichever you’d like, darling,” he sat opposite me, tucking the napkin across his lap.

“Just because I did what anyone would for their love doesn’t mean you need to shower me with gifts, Harvey,” I said, giving him a pointed look.

“And if I bought them just because I wanted to?”

Point taken. I read the card, a picture of a polar bear wearing sunglasses on a beach with a coconut in its hand plastered on the front.

Classy. It made me giggle nonetheless.

To my Yn,

Thank you. I’m sorry. I love you. Thank you for being here, even when I wasn’t. I’m sorry for my absence, I promise I’ll be more conscious of my time spent at the office. I love you, more than I ever thought I’d ever be able to love anything. You are everything I’ve always wanted, and everything I never knew I’d need. After this last month, I didn’t understand just how badly I craved you. Your smile, your laugh, your warmth. The taste of you in the morning, and those adorable snores at night. No matter how many times I do it, I’ll never get tired of kissing you. Never tire of taking your breath away. I’ll never get sick of you being the first thing I see when I wake up, and the last thing before I sleep.

You are forever entwined in my soul, Yn. And I wouldn’t dare to imagine it otherwise.

I love you. <3 Harvey

I looked up at him, tears lining my eyes. He just winked at me, fork scraping his plate as he shoved a mouthful in.

“Fuck you for that,” I sniffled, brushing away the tears as I blinked. “That was so uncalled for, you didn’t need to do that to me. That’s so unfair.”

He smiled, “I know you love that shit. And before you ask, Donna didn’t come near me when I was writing that. It all came from up here.”

I laughed as he touched the side of his head. “Good to know all those years at Harvard Law taught you something other than corporate jargon.”

“Open the boxes, little devil,” he sipped his champagne, nudging the boxes towards me.

Both were a dark blue velvet, unlabeled. They were closed with a silver ribbon. The first one I grabbed was about the size of a book, and something rattled inside. I undid the bow, lifting the lid. Inside was a Kindle. I gasped, pulling it out and looking it over.

“Harvey,” I grinned, mouth falling open. “You did not.”

“But I did,” he smiled brightly. “Unlimited.”

I could jump his bones from across the table. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“Well, after you find out I got you a case, a Pop Socket, and one of those stands with the remote clicker so you don’t even have to hold it, you might love me a little more.” I squealed, pushing out of my chair as I crashed into him. We nearly tipped backwards. Harvey laughed, rubbing my sides as I latched onto him. “I knew you’d appreciate this. I know we haven’t been together much, but I remembered you showed me a video of some girl who had one.” “You remembered that?” A new set of tears choked my voice.

“Of course I did. And I also remember you telling me that if I bought you another set of earrings you’d use them to pierce my ears, so that option went out the window.”

I swatted his chest, Harvey’s smile easy as he eased me off of him. “This is perfect, thank you so much.”

“Of course, my dear. Now open the next one.”

What could be better than a Kindle Unlimited? With a stand AND a remote to turn the pages for me. Harvey has no idea what he’s done, I’ll literally never get out of bed again.

Practically ripping the box in half, I take off the lid and peer inside.

I blink a few times, looking from him to the box. “My passport?”

“Yup.”

“I feel like there is something I’m not getting here.”

“There is.”

“Are you gonna tell me or make me guess?”

“I’m not that mean,” he rolled his eyes.

“I mean you have been ignoring me for the past month,” I feigned being upset, letting out a little yelp when he threw a piece of broccoli at me. “You're literally four years old.”

“We’re going to China.”

Everything stopped moving. I dropped the box, my small, navy blue passport skittering across the floor. My ears buzzed, my fingers buzzed. “I- What?”

Harvey grinned. Fuck, I missed that grin. “We’re going to China. We won the case last night, and I am desperate for some time with you. You’ve always wanted to go, so why not now? I have everything set up. We’re gonna stay in the mountains, we’re gonna go hiking and see some shows. I also know you’ve wanted to-”

“We’re going to China?” I had to make sure I heard him right? I’ve been learning the language for years now, engrossed with their rich culture and history. The cuisine, the art, the music… everything. Had I been in a different timeline, I would’ve moved there.

“Yes, my love. We’re going to China. Two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” My eyes nearly fell out of my skull. “I can’t take two weeks off of-”

“Yn,” he cut me off, knowing I was going to spiral into a never ending list of reasons of 'why this and why that'. “It’s all been taken care of. All you have to do is pack a bag and get you cute ass in my car on Sunday morning. Don’t worry about anything else.”

“But-But Harvey… what the FUCK? WE’RE GOING TO CHINA? Oh my god, I have to call Donna.”

“Can you call Donna tomorrow? I have other things I’d like to do before you go blabbering to her about how amazing and awesome I am for planning this.”

I eyed him suspiciously. “Donna planned this, didn’t she?"

“She did find the panda place. And the art festival. But everything else was my doing. You can applaud now.” Cocky, arrogant son of a bitch. My cocky, arrogant son of a bitch, but one nonetheless.

I looked at him, dumbfounded. He did all this for me, just because he had a crazy workload. I feel like it should be the opposite, me pampering him, congratulating him on his huge win. Not him fueling my book obsession and planning my dream trip.

But it was yet another reason I loved him more and more every day. He just did these things, without prompting. Without need. He felt like he was neglecting me, leading to… all of this.

We ate our dinner, chatting about anything other than the case. I asked about it, twice, and he completely side-stepped my attempt. I wanted to know, but if he didn’t want to talk, I wouldn’t push. I told him the plot of this terrible Mafia romance book I finished earlier in the week, and he listened to every grating, awful point I made about it. All with a dopey smile on his face.

Harvey cleared the plates, setting them in the sink. He brought more champagne, the strawberries and the cherries. In a calm silence, we devoured them, eyes raking over each other. I risked a look below the table, seeing just exactly where he wanted the next phase of the night to go.

“You looking at it makes it worse, you know,” Harvey leaned back in his chair, my legs propped in his lap. He stroked his hand up and down, fingers dipping into one of the holes in my jeans.

“Good,” I smiled, a sinful intent in my eyes.

He looked from my smile to my eyes and back down. With a curse, he threw my legs off his lap and pulled my chair close to his. Harvey enveloped his mouth with mine, the sweet taste of chocolate mixed with the sour berry and tarte champagne. Every flavor on his tongue became my own.

I was in his lap the next second, legs folded against his thighs. Harvey kept me firmly planted. Steady. He wouldn’t dare let me fall. I got lost in him, suddenly aware just how long it had been since I truly had him. Truly tasted him. Truly craved him.

He stood, taking me with him. The familiar route to our bedroom whirled by. I landed on the bed with a soft bounce, tugging on the collar of his shirt until he laid on top of me.

“So demanding,” he whispered on my lips. I wrapped my legs around his hips to emphasize my need. “Fuck… I love it when you get like this.”

“You made me this way, Harvey,” I pleaded, eyes catching him.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to give you what you deserve,” Harvey sighs. It’s not heavy, but it’s noticeable. “Let me take care of you, Yn.”

“I just need you to-”

“I know, my love. Let me worship you. Treat you how you deserve. You’ve been so patient with me, now let me return the favor.”

Well, I’d be stupid to deny him.

Delicately, he kissed down my torso, lifting my shirt over my head and throwing it for tomorrow's problem. He removed my socks, then my jeans. From ankle to knee, he kissed and bit my skin, making me squirm against the sheets.

Every nerve ending in my body was on fire, the tips of my fingers and toes pulsing with anticipation. With the last remaining pieces of my clothes gone, he spread my legs, kneeling to the ground.

The sight of Harvey Specter on his knees between my thighs was… empowering. Not that he hasn’t tasted me with his tongue, I’ve just… always been on top. Never so… exposed.

A heady sigh left my lips, body going lax with the first pass of his tongue on me. I clenched my legs against his ears, muffling my whines. He pushed them against the mattress, eyes pinning me as he sank his teeth into the muscle of my thigh.

“You know better than to hide those pretty moans from me, my love.” Yes, I do know better. “Scream my fucking name if you want.”

I just might.

He made quick work of me, practiced movements easily sending me up and up and up. He’d slow back down, torture me with more bruising marks on my thighs while I writhed and begged for him to let me release. I arched up off the bed when he added his fingers.

I was so close, a month's worth of pent up desire threatening me all at once. My mind and body were on fire. I couldn’t hold off any longer. I chase that high, circling my hips against his face. His hands, firmly planted on my inner thighs, I shook, that month long ache finally subsiding before roaring back to life.

When I thought he’d stop, he kept going. Around and around and around his tongue went. Teasing and sending an endless supply of pleasure through my body.

“H-Harvey,” I gasped, my body up in flames over his never ending devotion.

“I’ll stop when I want to. Fuck Yn, you taste so sweet. Almost as sweet as hearing you beg for me to let you cum. Can you take one more?”

Again, I nodded, content to let him spend however long he wanted at my aching core. My second release came much sooner than the first. He didn’t bother teasing me, knowing it would ruin all his hard work if he stopped. With a few more sweeping passes, he licked me clean, sitting back on his heels to look at me. He wiped my cum off on the back of his hand, giving me a wicked grin.

“You are so fucking beautiful, all laid out for me to do as I please,” Harvey said, beginning to strip.

“Please Harvey, have me. Any way that you like.”

He chuckled, kneeling over me. “I will, but like I said, I want tonight to be all about you.”

“Well I want you to fuck me.” I am not very good at being subtle.

“How can I deny you when you ask so nicely,” he purred, closing our lips together, I parted my legs for him, desperate for the friction of his body on mine. His chest, his stomach, his hands lacing with mine. I needed all of him all over me.

It didn’t take long for him to slip inside me, every inch of him stretching me in the most desirable way. I hummed as he stilled, his need clear in the way his arms shook to keep still.

“Move, please please move,” I begged, threading my hand in his hair. With a reluctant drop of his head, he rolled his hips into mine, our bodies finally meeting in full.

“I was trying to be gentle,” he reasoned.

“Fuck gentle, I need you. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I know my love, I know.”

With each thrust into me, a new sensation bubbled inside me. My toes curled, my back bowed, my eyes fluttered shut. He quickened his pace, heavy breaths falling from his lips into mine. His air was mine. Every muttered curse and moan and praise went straight through me. He needed me as much as I needed him.

~~~~~

With my mind not fully awake, I lazily fling myself off my stomach and onto my back. My arm knocked into something hard, and I squinted against the morning sun. Oh, Harvey.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, crashing back down against the pillow.

He chuckled, kissing the hand that accidentally hit him in the face. “It’s okay.”

“Are you going into the office?” I asked, still keeping my eyes closed. Man this bed is so comfy…

“No?” He said, a question in his tone. “Why would I?”

“Why else are you up so early?”

“I was just looking at you, my love. It’s been a while since I’ve just… looked at the love of my life. Taken the time to appreciate just how fucking stunning you are.”

My heart melted, a lovesick feeling welling up in my chest. I turned over, facing the handsome lawyer and grinned ear to ear. “I’m sure I look fabulous after last night.”

“You’ve never looked hotter. Lips swollen from mine, hair a mess from my hands… your body covered in my-”

“Okay,” I snatched his lips between my fingers, silencing his next words. “I did just wake up, at least let me shower before you destroy me again.”

“Only if I can quote on quote destroy you in the shower before I cook you breakfast and fuck you again on the counter.”

My eyes snapped open, meeting his blown out pupils. “You certainly have a vivid imagination for…” I looked over at the clock on the side of the bed. “... eight thirty-seven AM.”

“Wait till you find out I’ve been awake since six. With nothing to do but plot all the ways I could ruin you.”

I rolled my eyes playfully, offering my lips as a peace offering. He quickly accepted, kissing me deeply. “Man, I missed this.”

“More than you could ever know.”

#harvey x reader #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter smut #harvey specter fanfic #harvey specter x you #harvey specter suits #harvey specter fanfiction #harvey specter #smut #writing #my writing

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limerental · 1 year

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ficletober 2022 day 28 - yenralt

Stay at home dad Geralt starts to have suspicions that business woman Yennefer is cheating on him.

content warning for the relationship in this fic being quintessentially Them and very imperfect, unhealthy, maybe even doomed. but also they love each other. they really do.

He finds the email on a Monday morning while tidying the office.

Snooping's not his intention, but his knuckles bump the mouse while he's collecting the bevy of coffee mugs Yen always claims she doesn't hoard in here, and when the screen flashes on, Geralt's eyes catch on a name, a subject line.

Arrangements for this weekend, it says, and the sender– Istredd.

Yen has some dull work conference this weekend, leaving Geralt and Ciri to get into all sorts of stuff they never really do when Yennefer's there, like watching movies in blanket forts well past Ciri's bedtime and making sugary breakfast for dinner.

It's a perfectly innocuous email, floating there amidst bank statements and invoices and meeting minutes, but some instinct, something twisting and sour makes him clicks through and read anyway.

It's normal. It's ordinary. This Istredd is a colleague, and the email is professional. The hotel address, dinner reservations, conference itinerary.

But then, at the end, looking forward to seeing you, Yenna.

Geralt takes all the mugs down to the kitchen and fills the sink with hot, soapy water and stands there with his hands in the cooling dishwater for a long time.

He doesn't say anything to her about it, doesn't ask. It's a silly, creeping suspicion and nothing more. Paranoia.

Yen goes to the conference, and Geralt makes chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream and sprinkles for dinner and he and little Ciri watch Finding Nemo under a swathe of blankets. She's turning six this year, two years since her adoption went through, and every time they do some silly thing like this, Geralt wonders how many years of this he has left.

There will be a last time he swaddles her up and takes her off to bed, a last time she hooks her fingers over his when he tries to leave and demands a lullaby. He traces his fingers over her cheeks, her hairline, her nose, her chin, and back up, a soothing, quiet touch while his gruff voice shapes a half-whispered song about boats and dreams and promises.

There will be a last time, and he won't know it when it comes. Suddenly, she'll be too big, balking and rolling her eyes and shaking off his hand. She'll go out with her friends on weekends like this one, and Geralt will sit alone in the big, empty house Yen bought them and wait for them to get back.

He thinks maybe some of his last times with Yen already happened, and he didn't know to pay attention to those details, those moments. The last time she kissed him in the shower with a deep swell of breath. The last time they had sex in the pool under the stars, Geralt griping about the chlorine in his hair. The last time she held his face in her hands and looked right at him, beaming, her eyes like a little girl's.

Yen gets back from the conference on Sunday afternoon and complains about the popcorn still strewn across the living room floor. Her hair is slicked flat to her scalp, her steel-grey suit timeless and tidy, and she smiles at him with pursed lips, gives Ciri a big kiss on her head, then disappears into her office.

Geralt doesn't ask about the conference or the email. He doesn't ask when did you fall out of love with me?

He finishes cutting the crust off of Ciri's peanut butter and jelly and goes to vacuum the living room floor.

They aren't married. Yen has always said marriage is an outdated convention used to control women, but now, Geralt thinks maybe she was always expecting this to happen to them, the slow, unspoken decline of their relationship, and that she didn't want to be trapped in it.

She could leave any time she wants to. She could ask Geralt to leave.

She doesn't leave, but she's not here. They don't talk about it. They sleep beside one another in their king bed in the chic master suite and never touch. Geralt dresses Ciri for school in the mornings, braids her hair, and Yennefer drives her, dropping her off on her way into the city.

Geralt picks her up a few hours later, takes her to get fast food lunch, sometimes to the park to play with other kids. Makes dinner which Yen rarely eats with them, returning late from the office and immediately readying for bed.

Same routine every weekday.

Geralt googles Istredd, stares at his professional portrait. Handsome. White teeth. Went to undergrad with Yen, business school. She's never mentioned him, but she doesn't talk much about her past at all. He wonders if they ever hooked up back then or if it happened later, reminiscing over a shared alma mater leading to sharing a company paid hotel room out of town somewhere. Yen's hands on that shapely jaw, smiling against his white teeth.

Geralt never graduated college, met Yen when she was still bartending nights while waiting on a real job. These days, he works the odd handyman job with his brothers for the family business but is mostly on stay at home dad duty until Ciri's older, doing housework, cooking.

My housewife, he remembers Yen purring in a seductive drawl the first few times he cooked for her, and the one memorable night doing it in nothing but an apron, overcooking the steaks because Yen couldn't keep her hands off his bare ass or her lips off the plane of his back.

He looks at Istredd's portrait and wonders if they ordered takeout to their hotel room at the conference, sprawled across the bed feeding each other and kissing between bites. He wonders if Istredd has ever heard Yen's genuine, snorting laughter, shaking her whole body, scrunching up her face and Geralt tries to remember the last time she laughed like that with him and curses himself for not imprinting every detail of it with more permanance into his mind.

Geralt can remember clearly the last time she told him she loved him. She says it every night before turning off the bedside lamp, but he has no way of knowing for certain the last time she said it and really, truly meant it.

Then, one night she mentions him.

"My coworker, Istredd, said he can get us good tickets to that musical on ice next month. The one for the movie Ciri likes."

He's in the kitchen washing up, and Yen came home just as they were finishing and is eating her reheated plate at the polished island, Ciri in the living room watching cartoons.

He doesn't know what movie she means, haven't had a family movie night in a few months.

He's going to ask but what he asks instead is, "are you sleeping with him?"

Yen sets down her fork.

She looks at him, and he thinks there. He can catalog this, hold it in his mind. The last time she really, really looks at him, searches him, her whole attention caught by him alone.

"Geralt," she says, soft, and he knows already. "I'm… I'm sorry."

"Yeah," he says, voice warping, and he turns away and puts his hands down in the sudsy water in the sink, keeps scrubbing a pot. It's hot. His wrists burn. He lays the dishes one by one on the drying rack to put away tomorrow, takes the dish towel off his shoulder and dries the edges of the big copper sink. He's going to miss this kitchen, he thinks. The expensive appliances, the copious counter space, the natural light. If he knew tonight was likely to be his last good night cooking in it, he would have made something more involved than chicken alfredo.

"Geralt--" says Yen.

"Ciri needs a bath," he says and goes to run the water.

He does not let Ciri see his heavy sadness, splashing with bath toys and slicking her thin hair into a mohawk as usual, dabbing a foam beard around her chin as she giggles. When she's dried and pajamaed and tucked in, he makes up the guest bedroom and slips into the cold bed, not sure he'll sleep at all. The pillows are too fluffy and firm, rarely used. The air in the room smells stale.

Yen cracks the door and tiptoes in, and he turns to stare at her standing in the glow of the hall light. She's wearing one of his old t-shirts from a family reunion back when he was a teenager, and her hair is loose, her legs bare.

"Can we talk?" she asks, and he shrugs against the mattress. He wants to say no. He wants to shout himself hoarse. He wants to go to sleep.

She sits down cross-legged beside him on the bed, and he doesn't bother sitting up, just lies there barely looking at her. If he looks and sees her eyes glassy with tears, he'll curl himself around her and forgive her and she won't have to say anything at all.

"There's something wrong with me," she whispers, her voice so small that he feels like it slips through his pores and deep, deep under under surface. "I don't know, I just–" She swipes at her cheeks, takes an unsteady breath. "I kept thinking how you don't look at me the way you look at Ciri. You barely look at me at all. And that's– how completely stupid. To be jealous of a fucking five year old but–"

He doesn't mean to laugh, but it's funny how similar what she says is to his own dramatic thoughts down in the kitchen.

"Yen," he says, huffed through his laughter, body shaking against the bed. "Yen, I look at you all the damn time. It's just you... you're never looking back."

It's stupid and foolish and so very them, that they never looked in the right moments and let that eat them up. Geralt doesn't really notice his laughter turning to tears until Yen's cool hands are on his face and she's kissing his eyelids and then his breath hitches with helpless sobs.

She snugs down to hold him with his head on her chest, muttering apologies, and he doesn't if she's saying goodbye or not so he clings and clings.

"Hey," she says against his hair once he's cried himself out, hasn't cried like that in a long time. His body feels watery and fatigued, like he'd been exercising, and he lets her drag her fingers through his hair, catching on knots. "Hey, do you think we… are we going to make it, Geralt?"

"Don't know," he says against the soft fabric of her sleep shirt.

"You shouldn't forgive me," she says, shakes him a little. "You shouldn't."

"I know," he says and is sure that he has already.

Yen calls off work the next day, and Ciri is delighted, shrieking with glee to have both her parents there for her morning routines. Geralt makes french toast with strawberries cut into hearts and Yen's the one who breaks out the whipped cream and froths a huge dollop onto her own portion and then Ciri's. Geralt ends up with whipped cream on his nose and kissed off Yen's lips while Ciri is off futiley trying to put on her own shoes.

When she gives up, he kneels to tie them himself, double-checking she has her morning snack, a change of pants in case she has a rare accident again, and they both drive her to school, waving out the window of Yen's Cadillac as Ciri takes her teacher's hand.

They don't go back to the big, empty house but out to get groceries. Yen picks the menu for the week, putting all kinds of absurd ingredients and other goodies in the cart, and Geralt can do nothing but indulge her. She picks a pint of his favorite flavor of ice cream, cookies and cream, without asking, selecting mint chocolate chip for herself and plain vanilla for Ciri.

She disappears for a bit while he checks out and meets him at the exit presenting a bouquet of white carnations. He rolls his eyes and huffs, and she's smiling with her tongue between her teeth.

He puts them in water when they get back and doesn't tell her that they aren't roses, and she kisses him against the kitchen island like she had earlier that morning.

"Yen," he says with his hands on her shoulders. "This doesn't fix things."

"I want to try," she says. "I want to."

"Yeah," says Geralt. "Me too."

"I love you, Geralt. I really do."

"Love you too, Yen."

He can tell she means it, and this time he closes his eyes and savors the words, pressing them down deeper and deeper into his memory, into the very core of him.

Just in case it's the last time.

#my fic #the witcher #yenralt #yennefer x geralt #geralt x yennefer

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logarhythm-bees · 8 months

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To Unearth and Back Again; ⛅Chapter 4

Chapter Three | Table of Contents | Chapter Five

See ronithesnail's absolutely wonderful art for this story!

Where'd it go? Where'd it go? A perfect case for a private eye I'm searching far and wide So here we go, here we go We're not gonna stop 'til we find what we're missin'

-Where'd it Go, Pipp Petals

A few moments later, they were all sitting at the table, except for Patton, who had shooed everyone out and was trying to fan the smell of burnt packing peanuts out of the kitchen.

“Do you need help–” Logan started, immediately being cut off by a “Nope!” from the kitchen and some flapping noises. The fan over the stove kicked on with a woosh and a sigh of relief from Patton who emerged a moment later with a couple stacks of pancakes and some various toppings on a serving platter. “Breakfast’s ready!” He cheered. “Here we are, let me just grab some plates.”

Patton handed Logan the platter, which he set carefully on the table as Patton dashed back into the kitchen and out again with the aforementioned dishware, placing a fork, knife and plate in front of each of them. He eyed Remus warily for a moment before giving him the knife, however, but gave him one too, albeit very cautiously and with a careful eye as Patton moved to sit down.

Nobody really talked through the meal. All the noises heard were the clink of silverware and Remus chuckling quietly under his breath.

After breakfast, all the sides but Roman left to go off to their rooms, so Roman took out his sketchbook and started jotting down picnic ideas. He wasn’t planning on a lot of food, but he thought it would be nice to make some tea sandwiches and maybe a couple small cakes for Virgil. Roman wasn’t a practiced chef, but he figured he could manage cutting up some smaller-than-usual sandwiches, and though he’d always liked the idea he certainly wasn’t one for baking; he shuddered at the memory of the time he tried to make a bundt cake and added way too much sugar and chocolate syrup.

“I wanted it to be sweet!” Roman said, looking at the flat mess of unevenly cooked batter.

“I know, Roman,” Logan replied. “But that’s not how baking works. It’s a science. If you mess with the ingredient amounts, it won’t always work out.”

He shoved the memory back into the depths of his brain, shaking it out of his head. Okay, a cake-cake was probably out, but he might be able to handle a mug cake like he’d seen shorts of! They seemed simple enough. And he could put it in Virgil’s favorite mug, too! That sounded like it would be great!

Roman smiled to himself, opening YouTube on his phone and looking for mug cake recipes. He scrolled through the videos for a while, taking notes on the ones Virgil might like and sketching little pictures of fancy ways he could put ice cream or toppings on them.

He stayed there for a couple hours before a rumble sounded from the stairs, and Roman startled, jumping up from the couch and preparing to fight.

Patton came running frantically into the room, looking down and up and every other which way, and Roman flopped back to his place on the couch. “Janus?” he called. He turned to Roman on the couch, worried. “Have you seen Janus?”

“Nope,” Roman said, popping the P, and looking back to his sketchbook. “He’s probably in his room practicing lying to and manipulating people, or something.”

“I thought he might be in his room, but he wasn’t there,” Patton said, not really processing the jab at Janus as he peeked under the couch cushions. “Janus!” Patton called, even peeking in the glasses on the coffee table. “Where are you?”

“He wasn’t in Thomas’s apartment either,” Logan claimed, rising through the floor with Thomas in tow, and wow, okay, everyone was just interrupting Roman’s quality thinking time today, that was so cool. Absolutely awesome. (Roman was being sarcastic, by the way).

“I don’t know where he is,” grumbled Roman, “and I was a little bit busy in here, would you mind leaving? Please?”

“Sorry!” Patton said, scurrying out of the room, motioning for Thomas and Logan to follow. “Sorry. I’m just- I’m worried. I haven’t seen him since breakfast, and he usually comes out his room and hangs around with us by now.”

Roman knew that all too well, having an alarm scheduled on his phone specifically for leaving-the-living-room-before-Janus-came-back time, and he supposed it was a bit odd that Janus hadn’t shown up yet, but also, he didn’t actually really care where Janus was.

“I don’t know,” Roman groaned again. Check in the cabinet, I don’t know. Can I have my creative time alone now?”

Patton nodded overenthusiastically, pushing Thomas and Logan out of the room. “Of course!” he said, disappearing down the hallway and shouting for Janus again. Roman sighed and put in his headphones, deciding to ignore them for the next few hours.

Seven minutes later, Roman was helping them look, because Virgil had plopped onto the couch next to him and whispered in his ear asking Roman to “Please help me, I know you don’t really want to look for Janus and I don’t really feel like it either, but the nervous energy radiating off of the others is driving me insane. Please, the sooner we find him they can stop and we can all relax.”

So Roman was grumpily making his way around the house, peeking in drawers and under stacks of papers and in baskets of laundry. He dared to peek into the other’s rooms if the doors were open, absolutely not searching around the room, but giving a cursory glance from the doorway and a shout of “Janus?” before closing the door and going back into the hall. He’d checked Logan’s and Remus’s rooms and found nothing, and he hummed, trying to figure out where else to look. He supposed he could check his own bedroom–he doubted Janus would be in there, but he was running out of places to check. And maybe Janus was in there collecting blackmail or dust bunnies or whatever, Roman didn’t know, he didn’t keep an eye on what the mindscape’s local snake was doing.

Armed with a nervous little bit of mostly-unfounded suspicion that Janus was sneaking around his room, Roman flung open his door with a shout. “Janus!” he called, and got no response.

That didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t in there though, Roman though, squinting pensively.

“Janus!” he called again, looking under the bed. Nothing out of the ordinary there.

“Janus?” he yelled, opening the closet. Nothing out of place in there, either.

“Januuus,” Roman sung, lifting up the pile of blankets on his bed, which did not yield the reveal of a Janus because why would he be in Roman’s bed, that would just be weird. Look, Roman was running out of places to search! He figured he might as well check!

Roman tossed the blankets back on his bed with a sigh, taking a look around the room again. Janus wasn’t in there. Everything was just the same as it was when Roman left it, from what he could see.

Roman took one last look around the room, searching for anything at all that might help him on his seemingly-fruitless quest. He was about to give up and return to aimlessly searching the halls when at last, he spotted it.

It had been easy to miss–a white envelope, positioned neatly on his white pillow, rather reminiscent of a polar bear hiding in the snow. The only reason Roman had even noticed it at all was the neon green wax seal, stark against the spotless winter of his sheets.

Roman walked slowly over to it–there was only one person in the mindscape that would tolerate that shade of green, and he was very good at setting traps. Subtlety was definitely not Remus’s forte, but if he wanted a trap to go undetected until it could strike, he certainly could. It was one of the few things Remus could manage to actually be covert about.

Tossing a wayward plush into the space between where he stood at the bed, Roman held his breath, absolutely not willing to get caught in another one of his brother’s pranks. It had taken him a week to wash the neon pigment out of his hair last time, and he refused to do that again, especially when he had put so much effort into his hair this morning.

The plush rolled a small distance from where it landed, and seeing that it did not activate any glitter showers or bear traps, Roman crept over to scoop it up and place it gently back on the bed.

“Sorry for using you as a test dummy,” he said to the plushie, a soft red, purple and gold dragon, and gave it a little pat and a kiss on the head. “You know how my brother is.”

“And speaking of my brother, let’s see what he’s done this time,” Roman grimaced, reaching to pick up the envelope. Double checking that it wasn’t set up to start another one of Remus’s crazy Rube-Goldberg contraptions, he took it off the pillow, carefully picking off the “R” wax seal. Whether the R meant to Roman or from Remus, or both, he wasn’t sure, but he supposed that wasn’t the most important thing for him to be concerned with right now. Preparing himself mentally, Roman opened the envelope and unfolded the letter.

Skimming over the words once, then twice, and then going word-by-word to assure himself that yeah, that was what he was reading, Roman groaned, letting his head fall forwards onto the plushie with a ‘fwomp’ and a crinkle where he’d smushed his face into its wings.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he mumbled into the plush, turning his head. “I’m going to kill him.”

The plush just crinkled again.

#logicaliciet #lomoceit #qpp prinxiety #prinxiety #to unearth and back again

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cupidzboww · 2 years

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𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍’𝚟𝚎 𝙱𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝙿.𝟼

Syd x Carmy | The Bear 🐻🥫🍝

Inspired by H.E.R and Bryson Tiller’s Could’ve Been

P.6 The Finale

He chooses a nice enough place to eat, a brunch spot less than twenty minutes from the restaurant. Its steady stream of clients validates its abundance of seating choices. Sydney’s heard of the place before. It’s been open for five years now, and it seems to be doing well.

If she were incapable of reading social situations, she’d think of this as purely a business outing. One where they observe the competition, gathering notes on what they should and shouldn’t do for The Bear. But this place isn’t within the vicinity of the restaurant, and none of them brought a pen and notepad to take notes.

The meeting with the contractor was only three hours, leaving them just enough time to catch the breakfast menu. Seated and their drink orders taken, both wait patiently, quietly. Sydney, much like Carmen, finds it impossible to talk about anything with her business partner unless it’s about food. And she doesn’t think she’s in the mood to have their typical fast-paced, mentally-synced-up recipe tangents.

Pulling out her phone, she swipes to the camera, seeing how much her afro has condensed.

Not too bad.

Raising a hand, she pulls at a spot a little too low for her liking. And when it sticks out too much, she picks at the hair around it to match. Turning her head to the side, she finds the back to be a little flat—this is a two-hand job now.

Sipping on his Dr. Pepper, Carmy’s lips curve upward around the paper straw—fuck these things. Amusement dances around in his eyes as he watches her preen herself in front of her phone, which she has propped up against her glass of Orange juice.

And after five minutes of delicately picking at it, she decides that her hair is a perfect circle (not like it hasn’t been) she shuts off her phone, placing it down on the table. Her hands rest in her lap, and she finally looks across the table at him.

“What?”

“It’s kinda funny,” he shrugs, looking off somewhere to hide his growing amusement. “Watching you fix yourself up.”

“Shut up,” the mild embarrassment hits her. “Didn’t feel like getting up to go to the bathroom.”

“Heard,” he grins.

She rolls her eyes, feeling herself smile. “You thought about what you were gonna get?”

“Wha—uh….” He glances at the menu on his side. “Probably just some pancakes.”

“Not a waffles kinda guy, okay,” she shrugs.

“Please,” he scoffs.

“No, no, I get it. You’re a softie. Too much of one to enjoy a real meal—“

“And what is your take on a ‘real meal,’ chef?”

She looks at him squarely, a confident, one-sided smirk on her tucked lips. “Waffles.”

“Oh please—“

“Just say it—“

“We’re not having this conversation.”

He shakes his head, tearing his vision away from her because he knows he’ll be smiling bigger than is socially acceptable.

“Mhm.” She sighs, “Alright, chef.”

It grows quiet between them again, long enough for each smile to lessen. And then, it starts back up again.

“You look really, uh, good–today, Syd.”

“Thanks, Carmy.”

The smile she gives him is sweet and mild.

That was a bad sentence. Terrible. But he hopes (and he knows she probably won’t) she understands how pretty he thinks she looks.

When she first stepped out of the apartment earlier this morning, he nearly melted into a puddle on those steps in front of those men. That would’ve been a shame. But he doesn’t think he would’ve minded so much. Most of his attention would be on her anyway.

“And you did really good, in that meeting.”

“Thank you,” she laughs. “What’s with all the compliments?”

I don’t think I gave you enough. I need to make sure you know just how much I need you.

He shrugs, a simple smile on his lips. “M’just being nice.”

She looks at him with a skeptical smile, like he must not really mean what he says. “Alright….”

“So–uh–you doing anything … after this?”

Sighing, she looks up in thought. “Let’s see, I’ll probably go back home and laze around. Might try out this new recipe I’ve been making.”

“Something for the menu?”

“Maybe,” she looks back at him. “If it’s good enough.”

“I trust it’ll be good–excellent–chef. Y’know, especially if it’s … coming from you.” His voice falters, as does his gaze. But Sydney hears him loud and clear.

“Thanks.”

Sheepishly almost, he looks her in the eyes and nods. And she almost wants to laugh at the picture. Carmy, the guy who takes charge of the kitchen and wears the “bad boy” look so well, smokes whenever he gets a break, is shy. That’s a good one.

“Wha–what about you? I mean, what are you going … to do?” Now she feels a little less confident about finding his apprehension funny because why did she struggle to ask such a simple question?

“Um….” He brings a hand to his hair, grasping at it. “I dunno. Since we closed The Beef, y’know I’m not as busy? With getting orders done and shit. I just … I dunno, I feel like I almost don’t know what to do with myself?” He laughs weakly. “Sorry, I know you’re not … my fucking therapist–”

“How is that going, by the way? The Al-Anon meetings?”

“Uhh–good. Good,” he nods, putting his hands on the table.

“That’s great, Carmy.”

“Yeah….”

The drop of conversation leaves silence, and it’s almost maddening. Why can’t they ever speak normally? Like … like friends and not coworkers? It’s frustrating.

“Syd?”

Her eyes lift. “Hm?”

“I understand if you don’t wanna talk about it—“

Her brows pull together.

“But are we just–what–not gonna talk about … that night?”

Dammit. She thought she would eventually outrun this conversation. Twice Carmy’s cornered her into speaking about it. This time he succeeds because she can’t just get up and leave. He’s her ride.

“Carmy—“

“You’re a good kisser, Syd.”

Her mouth shuts, and she blinks. Her eyes are a bit wider than usual, and she has to look around to ensure no one else hears that.

“We were drunk,” she says lowly.

“Tipsy, actually—“

“And you’re my boss.”

Was.

He swallows, looking somewhere other than her now. Now he’s scorning himself. Serves him right. The day he decides to get out of his head and stop biting his own tongue, he chooses to discuss his and Sydney’s unprofessional work relationship. Completely inappropriate. And gross.

“I’m sorry. You’re right.”

Her tense shoulders barely drop, and she lets out another sigh. She studies him for a few seconds more than she should, thinking carefully over her own words.

“It was … a one time thing. Spur of the moment….”

He looks up, and she thinks, oh no, because she sees that tiny furrow in his brows. How his cheeks lift with that sort of grimace-frown, he does. And before he even says it, his face does for him: Is that what you think?

“What?”

“It was in the moment. You were under the influence, you meant nothing by it—“

“Woah, wait. I didn’t … kiss you just cause it was an ‘in the moment thing. I-I was confused—maybe. A little bit, y’know–but … I didn’t…. I like you, Syd. I thought that was obvious.”

His voice had grown smaller like he was unsure that he even had the space to talk freely. And he looks across the table at her, desperate to get a reaction. Her expression is catatonic. It’s almost crushing.

“We can’t … do that, Carmen.”

“No, I didn’t say—“

“You can’t like me. We … We work together. I mean … we just … we can’t.”

Her gaze leaves him, and her breathing is far more visible than before. Like she’s caving in on herself.

“It’s wrong—we—you can’t do that.”

“Syd—“

“No.” Her elbows come down on the table, and her head falls in her hands, fingers pressed against her pounding temples.

“I’m sorry, Sydney–”

“Why?” She picks her head up, eyes boring into his own.

Why? Why is he apologizing, or why did he choose to like her? Well, he didn’t really choose anything. It just kind of happened. She was–is–the first stable, good thing in his life for the first time in a long time. She makes him feel good. Makes him feel lighter and not weighed down by the plethora of issues he suffers from in silence.

When he walks into work in the morning and can already tell it’s going to be a shit day, he knows it can’t get any worse because he can count on her to be there. Next to him, going through everything with him. Her presence alone lessens the damage.

But how does he tell her that? How does he get her to see that? How does he find out if he does the same things to her?

She waits, still, for an answer.

“I … I dunno.” He swallows. “I just … I like you Syd. You … you make everything better?” And he bites back a groan because that wasn’t nearly good enough. Is he trying to convince her to reciprocate those feelings? He doesn’t know. But if he is, he’s doing a shit job at it.

“Are you … asking me?”

Her mounting frustration is evident in her voice.

“Wha–I don’t–no.” His hand plows through his hair. “Fuck–okay. Um … I–”

“Carmy, we can’t do this. What we feel doesn’t matter. The business–our business–is at stake here.”

He nods, “yes–”

“And I don’t ever want to sabotage that. I don’t ever want to risk failure for something that … just wouldn’t work.”

His lips remain parted.

“We … work crazy hours, we don’t have much time off–how would a relationship work? How often do you even speak to friends outside of work?”

His somber look is enough of an answer. He doesn’t really have any friends outside of work. This restaurant, cooking, it’s his whole life. It has been for the last few years. He can’t just drop it now.

“You understand me, Carmen?”

He nods, blinking back the prickling feeling at the back of his eyes. “I–yeah,” he clears his throat. “I understand, chef.”

She eyes him intently, her brows tilted with worry and a sort-of frown on her lips. “I’m sorry, Carmy.”

He nods.

He didn’t imagine it going like this–her shutting him down before he could even explain. He did get the chance to explain, and he fucked that up. It still wouldn’t matter because she would still shoot him down. Once Syd makes a decision, she sticks to it. He admires that about her, much to his own demise.

“For what it’s worth….”

He lifts his head, seeing the sad smile on her lips.

“I think … you’re a good kisser, too.”

She breathes out the words, and he almost misses them. His lips lift into a weak, one-sided grin. He nods, an even weaker laugh tumbling past his lips.

“Heard.”

———

The opening of The Bear comes and goes in just two months. All repairs and renovations had come out perfect, appealing to the vision Sydney and Carmy created. They couldn’t be happier.

Well, Sydney couldn’t be happier.

Carmy could stand for a few more wins in his life. And he feels awful about that. He should be beyond happy. He accomplished the dream he and Michael had with the person he wanted to. Everything was as he wanted it to be.

Almost everything.

Sydney moves like that day at the restaurant didn’t happen. Like that night didn’t happen. Like she never felt that urge strong enough to act on it and press her lips against his. How does she do it?

How does she show up to the opening of The Bear, looking as radiant as ever, smiling brighter than the sun? She’s talking to everyone, laughing, and making jokes. She’s even speaking to Richie normally.

He misses her. He never really had her, but he misses her. He misses the looks they shared and the conversations they had, the ones that were fortified against the intrusion of another party because they wouldn’t be able to keep up. No one could ever keep up with Sydney and him. He can’t even keep up with her.

She made that clear months ago.

———

Five months The Bear’s been running. Things are smooth, somewhat. The familial atmosphere of the crew is as it was in The Beef.

Richie with his petulant jokes, Tina and her stubborn ways, Marcus’s amazing pastries, Sweeps’ partly believable stories, Ebraheim’s stories of his life back in his home country, Manny and Angel’s calming presences, and Fak’s incessant rambling.

Just like old times.

Sydney and Carmen have fallen back into their ways, moving like a well-oiled machine.

Just like old times.

They turn off any and all feelings that interfere with work because neither could stand to jeopardize this success—this accomplishment.

But when it hits break time, and Sydney wanders out in the back to eat her lunch in silence, she lets all those distracting feelings and thoughts back in. And though she’ll never admit it–you’d have to pry this information out from her cold dead hands–she can’t help but wonder what could've been between her and Carmy.

Thank you guys so much for reading this. I had so much fun writing this short fic, and I hope you had just as much fun reading it <3

Feel free to check out my other works linked in my master list!

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goreverine-archive1 · 2 years

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@herbtm sent a meme: in a hotel room, up against the window overlooking a busy city.

If only he had a view from the other side.

From this side, though, he has Gaea pressed flat against that gigantic pane of glass, pinned like a butterfly on cork. There’s still a layer of that beautiful soft, delicate silk of her undone robe caught between their bodies (his clothed, her nude) -- otherwise, she’s on full display to the world, thighs and belly and tits and cheek pancaked on the cold surface.

“So.” He speaks lowly, quietly, even though he’s pressed oh-so-close to her. ( Nearly in her; not quite yet. Just being cruel, handling her and teasing her. ) “I imagine your daddy tinted these windows to keep your business private. That’s a fucking pity.”

The knee trapped between her thigh presses up; it’s a little too harsh.

“I mean, knowing how much you like to be seen, is all. Wouldn’t you?”

#herbtm #usfw #toxic relationship cw #maledom cw

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montyterrible · 5 months

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Ernest… Ernest Never Changes

Ernest in the Army (1998) is both the last of the Ernest film series and the last of the direct-to-video trilogy that includes 1995’s Slam Dunk Ernest and 1997’s Ernest Goes to Africa. Tragically, Jim Varney died only two years later, which adds an especially bittersweet vibe to this outing, a movie that features some pretty busy scenes, including multiple action set pieces, but also still in some regards looks to my eye less like a “real” movie. There’s a brightness to it, an unedited-looking frankness or flatness at times, a sort of softness in the visual department that’s maybe just aging SD media viewed through an HD display but still gives the whole thing a dreamlike quality.

If there’s such a thing as a non-canonical Ernest film, this feels like a potential candidate, what with Ernest being the savior of an entire Middle-Eastern country as an ostensible chosen one of some ill-defined prophecy. A certain looseness of the logistics of the plot—like how a hospitalized buddy (played by director John Cherry) somehow recovers fully and makes his way to both the Middle East and to Ernest’s exact location in it at the end to congratulate him on his victory—further contributes to that dreamlike feeling. Enemy vehicles are in hot pursuit and within shooting distance in one scene but are somehow far enough away in the next for Ernest and company to take a breather and set up a bit where Ernest shovels rock mines from the front of a moving vehicle to hit the pursuers. The principal antagonist dictator gets summarily dispatched by an especially hard pancake, and while there are rumblings of an even more global threat in the form of a shadowy organization led by a man stroking a white cat that wants to seize the dictator’s missile for their own ends, they’re barely present and feel like a weird (albeit evocatively-lit!) step too far into the world of fantasy.

This plot, with its espionage-esque complications, reminds me most of the previous film, Goes to Africa. The other link between these two movies is that they are the ones I felt the most trepidation about re-watching. Surprisingly, however, the racism here is much more Ernest Goes to Camp (1987) instead, which is oddly fitting given how it’s briefly referenced in the actual movie and on the box: “America’s Hero is Finally Back in Camp!” Which seems a bit like a strange break from what feels like the tradition of Ernest as a sort of eternally recursive figure: always working some blue-collar job somewhere in America, always dreaming of some bigger and better career, and always pining for a woman out of his league, with no past string of jobs and women to actually reference. No canon, again, in a sense…

What I meant about the racism, though, is that there is surprisingly not that much here that is obviously outrageously insensitive. Ernest never puts a towel on his head or cross-dresses behind a veil, for example. Islam exists primarily in the form of exclamations by certain characters but is otherwise not really depicted or overtly maligned. The fictional country is not a desaturated sandy hellscape: There are a number of shots with vivid green in them, and even the desert is more beautiful white-gold than it is as visually torturous as the action makes it out to be. Like Goes to Camp’s treatment of “Indians,” there’s an essentialist, reductive quality here that is still problematic but that comes off as shockingly ambivalent by the standards of later (read: post-9/11) years.

The Middle East here, as so often, is a land of deserts, eternal conflict, vicious and eccentric dictators, brave guerilla fighters, and an oppressed peasantry somewhere off in the background of it all. There are some digs at American imperialism and showboating principally in the form of General Rodney Lincoln (Jeff Pillars) who drops in a joke about oil prices at one point and who is both deeply incompetent and deeply obsessed with photo ops and shows of military pageantry without substance. It’s the lightest of light taps on the knuckles but still kind of surprising.

Still, Ernest (a very white guy) being a prophesied savior parallels pretty smoothly the sorts of fanciful liberator narratives America likes to weave about itself to excuse its Interventions, so obviously this isn’t a subversive masterpiece. Ernest as a cog in the US’s over-funded oppression machine just feels a lot more icky than him being a bank janitor or a camp counselor or mistaken for a vague sort of secret agent.

Ultimately, though, the armed forces, with their strict discipline and regimentation and homogeneity, are the perfect place for the chaotic force of Ernest P. Worrell to wreak his signature brand of havoc. And there are some good gags here! There’s a fun-gross one where Ernest spits a mouthful of sticky gummies candy into the face of a snarling colonel that ends with a nearby truck being pulled in by the strength of the stretched out gooey strand and flattening the guy. Ernest basically tortures a comatose Ben (Cherry) in the hospital by repeatedly jabbing an accidentally dislodged needle back into his arm (after licking it first, naturally). Ernest and a captured reporter (Hayley Tyson) crawl around beneath a deflated tent for a goofily extended period of time as the dictator’s men go in after them and subsequently get clubbed by their own guys. I chuckled a decent amount watching this one, which is not something I expected to happen, so while I’m still side-eyeing it pretty hard, it was actually much easier to enjoy than Goes to Africa—which would be a good note to end on, if this was actually the last Ernest movie I owned. The visual of a young boy in dramatic, somewhat contemplative silhouette wearing Ernest’s cap that concludes the movie certainly would have been a good last image, and kind of weirdly prescient with the feelings it evokes.

#film #movies #movie review #rewatching #jim varney #ernest p. worrell

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casspurrjoybell-28 · 6 months

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Alpha's Temptation - Chapter 24

*Warning Adult Content*

When I wake up to an empty bed, my heart drops, thinking I dreamt it all up.

I scramble out of the sheets, spotting a little note on the nightstand.

In a messy scrawl it reads: 'Had early morning call. See u later?' with a funny looking face scribbled next to it.

I find myself beaming as I pull out my phone to text Daemon, snapping a photo of the note and sending it to him.

Ash: You could have just texted me.

Almost immediately he starts typing in response.

Daemon: I could've. But I thought you'd like it, dork.

Ash: I do <3

I add the heart to my message with relish, smiling to myself all the while.

I remember that today I go back to school, so I jump up to get ready.

Actually being able to sleep for once has worked wonders on me.

I have never slept so soundly, without a nightmare before.

Except for maybe when I was little.

But I can't remember.

I pull out a cute striped knit sweater and skinny jeans, humming to myself as I get ready.

School is the usual stare and whisper show as usual.

Except for this time, it's not about what Henry did to me, it's about what I did to his brother.

Is it bad that I don't feel sorry?

Maybe that makes me a bad person.

I don't know.

I meet up with the gang at lunch and Lylah is static to see me, throwing her arms around me.

I hug her back tightly, glad to be back.

I apologize for being distant during my suspension.

I lie and say Lucien took my phone, not wanting to tell the truth, which is that I was too depressed to even pick up the device.

"I'm just glad you're back and not expelled," Lylah exclaims.

"It's all because Jay vouched for me," I look to said Alpha, giving him a look of appreciation. "Thanks again for doing that, even though I didn't really deserve it after what I... did."

"Agreed. Or I would've done it myself," Lylah proclaims, putting a hand over her chest as if she were doing to a pledge.

"Really?" I was worried they might think less of me.

"Yeah. You're badass, Ash," Jay winks at me.

"T-thanks" I reply, flustered.

Surely he's exaggerating.

I don't think what I did was that epic.

And now Lylah is making all sorts of teasing faces at me that Jay can't see and I just shake my head at her.

"Anyway," she clasps her hands together. "I dropped Jay's jersey off at your house. You got it, right?"

"You don't have to keep it, Ash," Jay immediately cuts in. "Not if it reminds you of..."

"No, no," I assure him. "I'll keep it. In your honor."

Lylah looks pleased with herself, a mischievous look on her face as she looks from me to Jay.

"Okay and can we talk about how you called Ash gorgeous at the game? Hmmm? Hmmm?" Lylah jabs Jay playfully in the side and he flushes, hiding his face from us.

"And how about how much you whined about Ash being gone these past two weeks?" she continues until Jay is putting a hand over her mouth to stop her.

She gleefully tries to squirm out of his grip.

I just laugh at their antics and my cheeks are already so sore from all the smiling I've been doing.

Lylah sure knows how to rile people up.

It seems her new hobby is trying to embarrass Jay in front of me.

I turn to Wren, who's been awfully quiet the entire lunch.

"Hey, you okay?" I ask him worriedly.

"Yeah. I'm just fine," he says, his tone flat.

I decide not to push it because he does not look happy whatsoever.

I look to Lylah for help but she's busy whacking Jay with her water bottle as he holds her school books out of reach.

I wish I knew how to reach out, to show Wren I'm here for him.

But he just seems so unreceptive right now.

*********

Today is my 18th birthday.

October 10th.

The day I was born.

The day I regret the most.

Okay, that was a bit dramatic.

As I wake up to the smell of coffee pancakes from downstairs I decide maybe I don't regret it too much.

I check my phone and see a flood of happy birthday texts from my friends and smile to myself.

Not one from Daemon, though.

My smile drops, kind of disappointed.

I mean, it's been better between us.

Definitely.

Not the usual fighting.

And he's been there for me.

But it's like we're in two different worlds.

I'm still in school and he's out on missions for Lucien, dealing with truces and rivalry with other packs.

I don't want him to see me as some annoying kid, whining for him to come see me.

With a sigh, I roll out of bed, padding downstairs to see Lucien's set the table lavishly with pancakes topped with powdered sugar and strawberries, syrup, bacon, scrambled eggs and a steaming cup of coffee.

"How's the birthday boy? Hungry, I hope," he chuckles, pulling out a chair for me to sit.

"Lucien. This looks amazing," I say in awe as I sit down.

I nearly start to tear up.

No one's celebrated my birthday in years.

My stepfather didn't even know the date of my birthday.

"Thank you so much," I gratefully smile at him as he ruffles my hair.

"My pleasure, bud. Let me go get your present," he leaves the room for a quick second, coming back with a pink box.

"Oh, you didn't have to..."

"Open it," he encourages me.

So I do, pulling open the box and taking out a cropped dark gray hoodie from Forever 21 that I have literally been wanting forever.

"Omg. I... how did you know?"

Lucien looks bit sheepish, scratching the back of his head.

"I may have had to get a little help from your friends."

I immediately pull it on, seeing it fits perfectly.

I spin in a circle for Lucien and he chuckles.

"It fits perfect," I exclaim.I give him a big hug.

"Thank you. This is the best present ever."

"I'm glad you like it. I was scared I might have gotten the wrong size or something. Rose was always better in the shopping department."

We finish breakfast happily and when I'm done suddenly I hear a car honk outside.

I run out to the porch to see Lylah, Wren and Jay all in her car together.

"Get in here cutie. We're taking you out," Lylah yells from the driver's seat.

"You guys..." I put a hand over my mouth in pleasant surprise.

I quickly rush upstairs to get my stuff and get ready, wearing my new hoodie and some black flare jeans.

My midriff is out so I'm a bit self-conscious but I decide that I should show off what I got.

Not that I have much... I quickly turn away from my mirror before I convince myself I look morphed and inhuman.

Which is what usually happens if I stare too long because my self perception and image are so distorted.

But today is a good day.

I can't let my low self-esteem ruin it.

I grab my phone and then head back downstairs.

"Have fun with your friends," Lucien sees me off and I tell him I will before eagerly rushing outside.

The first stop is thrifting because Lylah's absolutely obsessed with it and wants to set me up with some 'vintage' fits.

So she makes me try on all these crazy outfits while we take silly pictures together.

Jay sits on the designated 'boyfriend bench' as Lylah calls it, next to the fitting room as we do so, chatting with Wren about some rare Nike sneakers he's considering getting.

Wren is all smiles, pushing his hair behind his ear and laughing at all of Jay's jokes.

Awe, they look so cute together.

When we're finished, I only end up getting one pair of brown corduroy pants because Lylah insists on buying them for me since it's my birthday and I don't want to make her pay too much.

By that time it's early afternoon so Lylah says our next stop is the mall and that they have another surprise in store for me.

When we arrive at the small boutique I'm a bit confused and Lylah ushers me to a little booth in the corner of the store.

"So you know how you've been wanting to get your ears pierced? We thought you should do it today."

"Really? But isn't it expensive?" I ask worriedly.

"Not at all. I know the shop owner and she even gave me a discount. Consider it my gift to you," Wren assures me.

"Awe... That's so thoughtful of you," I hug him affectionately.

Then he helps me pick out some cute faux diamond earrings, ensuring I get the right size and material.

I look over as Lylah holds up some thick giant gold hoops to Jay's ear.

"He could totally rock these, couldn't he?" she asks us.

"Those look like they would tear my earlobes in half," Jay covers his ears protectively, moving away from her as we all laugh.

The process of getting my ears pierced is quick and nearly painless and after it's done I can't stop admiring the little jewel studs in my ears.

"I love them," I tell Wren and he grins bashfully.

I show Lylah and Jay excitedly.

"Material gwirl... what are you gonna get pierced next?" she asks, taking photos of me from every angle possible.

"Next? I just got these, silly."

"So that's a no to nipple piercings?" she raises her eyebrow and I gape at her, quickly looking around to make sure the employee didn't hear.

"Lylah," I whisper-yell at her.

"What? Y'all don't think Ash should get his nips pierced?" she looks to the other two.

Jay coughs abruptly, looking down to avoid the question.

Wren rolls his eyes.

"They don't do that here, weirdo."

"I wasn't serious."

Leaving them to their argument, Jay looks down at me, pushing my hair behind my ear for a better view of the earrings.

"It suits you," he says, a fond look in his eyes.

Lylah turns away from her quarrel with Wren, squealing as she starts snapping more photos of us and I wonder how she hasn't run out of storage space by now.

We hang around the mall for a bit longer until we're all hungry and we go to dinner.

Jay buys for us as my 'present' even though it's a serious battle to get past me and do that because I feel so bad about them paying for everything.

But Jay grabs the bill away from me, insisting and I eventually give in because he says he really wants to do this for me.

By the time we're done, I can't physically eat anymore so we don't order dessert.

They apologize for not being able to get me a cake and I say it's completely fine.

I mean I already had sweets this morning.

And I don't mind not following tradition.

I didn't even really know about how to celebrate birthdays until today.

And to be honest, the entire day has been so great that I find myself questioning if I deserve all this.

Then they drop me off at home and I thank them all for the wonderful time, telling them how much I love them.

I can't suppress the joy I feel, my heart is so full.

Even taking my medication at the scheduled time doesn't feel like a chore.

I look on my phone, hoping to see a text from Daemon but there's still nothing.

I mean it's not like I was expecting anything.

It's just a random day for him, not special just because it's my birthday.

So I put my phone down, telling myself to stop getting my hopes up and go take a shower.

When I get out I decide I'll watch something before bed.

As I'm about to turn a show on, I hear my phone ding with a message.

I dive for it, lighting up when I see the contact name on the screen.

Daemon: Come outside.

I waste no time pulling on some shoes and rushing downstairs, my heart nearly pounding out of my chest.

I can't believe he came.

If I wasn't happy before I'm nearly floating by now.

I open the front door to see him standing on the porch steps, adorned in a leather jacket and that familiar feeling of butterflies explodes in my stomach again.

It's obvious he's been out most of the day, his hair kind of messy but how does he still look so handsome?

It's making me so nervous.

"You came," I say.

"I didn't forget," he gives me a small smirk, pulling something out of his pocket.

A golden chain dangles from his hand.

"I uh, didn't have time to wrap it but... I made this for you," he says, almost sounding shy as he hands me it.

I take the necklace in my hands, spotting a little charm that hangs from it.

Upon closer observation, I see it's in the shape of the moon with ornate designs carved into it.

"You made this?"

I'm in awe, already feeling myself getting emotional.

He hand-crafted this for me?

'Me?'

"It's not much, I know. But I had some spare gold alloy and I thought you'd..."

By that time I'm already tearing up, letting out a little sniffle as I wipe my eyes.

Daemon's brow creases in worry.

"Do you not like it?" he asks, his expression falling.

"No, no, I love it," I clutch it to my heart. "It's perfect."

At that, a smile of relief breaks out on his face.

"Put it on for me?" I ask.

So he does, leaning in close and clasping it around my neck.

I breathe in shakily, trying to calm down.

I just can't believe he did this for me.

And I want to show him how much it means to me.

He's a step below me on the porch, so it evens out our height difference a little, though he's still taller.

"This is so sweet, Daemon," I tentatively reach out and pull him into a hug. "Thank you,"

"You're welcome, Omega," he replies teasingly, his arms wrapping around me.

I don't want to end this embrace.

I just want to stay like this forever.

And... I want Daemon to know that.

So I take a little risk. I lean in, giving him a little kiss on the cheek.

When I pull back, he's frozen, a blank look of shock on his face.

"B-bye Daemon," I stutter, starting to head back inside when he grabs my arm to stop me.

"Wait."

I look to him questioningly, wondering why but he doesn't say anything.

"I-I have to get back inside or Lucien will..."

"Right, uh..." Daemon's throat bobs and he looks a bit flustered, "Happy birthday, Ash."

"T-Thanks. And I'm gonna wear this every day. I'll treasure it. I promise."

I tell him as I rush back inside, too nervous to be around him any longer after what I just did.

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loveforpreserumsteve · 6 months

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Love Grows (demon!Bucky and pre-serum!Steve omegaverse au)

STEVE BUSIED HIMSELF with breakfast. And what a breakfast it would be. A feast, really. Bacon, eggs, sausage links, home fries, French toast. Hell, Steve even thought about whipping up some pancakes. But he knew that Hodge would complain about Steve trying to fatten him up before his big break. Which couldn't be further than the truth. Steve was just so giddy with losing the bet that he couldn't help but make everything in his sight. Really, Hodge was lucky that Steve hadn't been to the grocery store yet that week or else he would've made more.

"... has, unfortunately, succumbed to his injuries late last night."

Turning to face the living room, Steve reached for the remote so he could turn the tv volume up.

Seeing the smiling face of Jonathan F. Walker made Steve's heart break. He had been hoping that the alpha would pull through. He couldn't even imagine what the man's wife and other loved ones were going through right now.

Soon-to-be father. Steve's hand dropped down to his own abdomen. He didn't know what he would've done if he was in John's wife's place, and he made a note to send her his condolences.

"Is something burning?"

Jumping at the sound of Hodge's voice, Steve rushed back to the kitchen where the eggs were very much burnt. Annoyed with himself, Steve cursed, "For fuck's sake."

"Not the first thing you've burnt," Hodge chuckled, "Probably won't be the last either."

Narrowing his eyes into slits, he tried to ignore his husband's teasing. This morning was supposed to be a good one. Especially with the news that Steve had been rehearsing for the past couple of weeks.

"What is all this anyway?" Hodge asked, looking over the variety of breakfast foods.

"Well, if you waited in bed, you'd know."

When Hodge didn't say anything to that in reply, Steve nervously glanced over at the beta. Trying to gauge his reaction to the news that he had won the bet. However, the taller blond just seemed confused with his manicured brows in a deep, heavy furrow.

"For breakfast in bed..." Steve hinted again. Nothing. Sighing, Steve placed his hands on his hips and teased, "If I knew that this would've been the reaction to winning a bet, I would've just made you toast."

Whatever needed to click for the beta, thankfully, did and he smiled at Steve, "Really?"

Nodding, "I've taken about fifty at home tests over the past few weeks. All of them positive."

"Y'sure they're really that accurate?" Hodge asked, briefly worrying his lip.

"The box said they were the most accurate out there," Steve shrugged, giggling. He added, "But I made an appointment to see Dr. Cho at the end of the week."

"Dr. Cho?"

Nodding again, Steve tried to salvage the non-burnt food the best that he could while also trying not to upchuck – hello, morning sickness. Plating the feast on two plates, Steve said, "Maria recommended her. Apparently, she's one of the best obstetricians in New York and did amazing when she was pregnant."

"Maria has kids?"

His own brows furrowing, Steve chuckled, "Monica..."

"Oh, right," Hodge rubbed the leftover sleep from his eyes. "Karen's –"

"Carol's," Steve corrected.

"Right, Carol's wife," Hodge nodded, sitting down at the table while Steve brought his food-filled plate and a mug of freshly brewed coffee over to his husband. Briefly smiling up at Steve, "Thanks, babe."

"Of course," Steve preened, kissing his stubbly cheek before turning back to get his own plate and glass of orange juice.

Gesturing to the tv where a montage was now being played in memory of John, Hodge asked, "What's this?"

"He passed last night," Steve softly clarified, vision going blurry with unshed tears. Once again, his hand fell to his still-flat lower abdomen. Heart breaking the more and more he thought about what Olivia was going through with being pregnant and losing her husband.

"Well," Hodge sighed, reaching for the remote. "That's too bad."

As Hodge turned the channel – and found some more tributes to the stage and small screen actor – the beta rolled his eyes, annoyed. Steve's brows furrowed, wondering how the actor could be so dismissive. Especially when the outcome was such a sad ending to a terrible accident.

Soon-to-be father, echoed in Steve's mind. Idly, Steve wondered how John Walker had reacted to the news when he was first told. He wondered if it was as blasé as Hodge's reaction was. For Mrs. Walker, he was hoping the alpha had made a wild, romantic gesture the way they did sometimes in omroms. The kind of gesture that filled people with so much joy that there was nowhere else for it to go but out.

"Okay," Hodge finished chewing his bite and leaned back, crossing his arms along his naked, muscular chest. "What's the matter?"

"Hmm?"

"Clearly something happened from you getting a plate and sitting down. So, what happened?"

"Nothing," Steve fibbed, not wanting to have an argument. It was supposed to be a good morning. A happy morning. He didn't want to taint the memory of them finding out they were going to be fathers. "Nothing at all."

Picking up his fork, "Y'sure?"

"Positive," Steve falsely assured. "Just the pregnancy mood swings starting already, I guess."

Nodding, Hodge went back to eating his breakfast. Practically inhaling it as he kept his attention on the TV. Laughing along with the laugh track from a rerun episode of some sitcom, Hodge acted as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. So, Steve tried to do the same. He ate his breakfast, finding fast that he was nauseated, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the fetus growing inside of him or how dismissive his husband was to the whole thing.

"Hey," Hodge announced, leaning back in his chair, "Y'know what I'd love to do right now?"

Heat crept up Steve's cheeks as his mind slipped into the gutter, "What?"

"Tell Peggy and Daniel."

"Oh?" His brows furrowed, not expecting that.

"Yeah," Hodge nodded, grin growing. "And I know that we're supposed to keep it hush-hush for a bit, but this is possible because of them, y'know?"

Biting back his grin, Steve playfully rolled his eyes. "Alright, you can tell them."

Rushing from the table like a kid rushing towards the tree on Christmas morning, Hodge headed for the bedroom to pull on a shirt. Then, he was back in the kitchen, dropping a kiss to the top of Steve's head before rushing out of the apartment.

Chuckling, Steve brought his hand to his abdomen once more. "Your daddy's a goofball."

As he carried the plates over to the sink, Hodge returned with Peggy and Daniel in tow. For a moment, Steve felt his heart speed up at the thought of Bucky being with them. But he wasn't there and his chest clenched uncomfortably. The better part of him wondered when he would see him next.

"Congratulations, darling!" Peggy pulled him into a hug, kissing Steve's cheek.

"Yes, congratulations," Daniel added, holding a bottle of champagne. Steve's gaze dropped to the bottle and Daniel clarified, "Sparkling cider. It's better for the baby."

"That's awfully considerate," Steve smiled, sliding underneath Hodge's arm.

"Isn't it?" Hodge agreed.

"Our best wishes to you, Steve," Peggy said as Daniel poured them each some of the white grape juice into plastic disposable cups.

"We're more pleased than we can say," Daniel added, handing one of the cups to Steve.

"Thank you," Steve said, taking a sip of the faux champagne. Smiling down at his still-flat stomach, "Really. I don't know how I'll ever repay you."

"Just have a healthy baby and we'll call it even," Peggy winked.

"To a healthy baby," Daniel toasted.

"To a healthy baby," Hodge echoed, raising his cup.

Steve followed suit and so did the Sousas. For a moment, a longing pulled sharply inside of Steve. Assuming that it was just Hodge missing his parents and wishing that they were active in their lives, Steve wrapped his free arm around the beta's waist, hugging him closer to himself. Smiling up at his husband, Steve knew that this was all the family he'd need. Even if a small part of him conjured visions of steel blue eyes and dimpled chins featured on perfect little cherub children.

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abookishdreamer · 7 months

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Character Intro: Nymphe (Kingdom of Ichor)

Age- 36 (immortal)

Location- New Olympus, Olympius (The Royal Palace)

Personality- She's a very calm and centered person that's in tune to her emotions as well as the emotions of other beings. She can be quite neurotic at times too. She's casually dating.

She has the standard abilities of a goddess except shapeshifting. Being the goddess of self-care her other powers/abilities include cleaning inducement, pheromone generation (pherogenesis), vitakinesis (healing; by aromatherapy), limited ambrosia manipulation, having an innate sense of other beings' auras, calm inducement (temporarily in others), internal body cleansing, and body meridian manipulation (is well versed in pressure point martial arts).

Nymphe is a member of The Horae, otherwise known as "The Guardians of the Gates." She takes pride in her role in the group & in the pantheon, greeting the visitors of the palace with a warm handshake and bright smile. Nymphe actively volunteers for shifts at the palace's gift shop whenever she's free to.

She lives in a suite apartment in the royal palace. The apartment has a peaceful and airy aesthetic with various lit aromatic candles, diffusers, flowy curtains, & translucent furniture pieces like lucite chairs and glass tables.

Nymphe pays her handmaidens (who are aurai & anthousai nymphs) extra (out of pocket) whenever they partake in lengthy breaks.

Among The Horae she's more closer to Sponde (goddess of libations), Mesembria (Bria) (goddess of the afternoon), Auge (goddess of first daylight), and Gymnasia (goddess of excercise & gymnastics).

She goes for a light workout in the mornings- jogging through the main outer courtyard of the palace before enjoying a nice bath with seafoam-seaweed extract bath bombs!

Nymphe gets around through use of her bike & public transportation (thanks to an unlimited rechargable transport card).

A typical breakfast for her is a stack of coconut pancakes (topped with her homemade coconut whipped cream) along with scrambled egg whites, turkey bacon, and a small bowl of sliced fruit. She's also a fan of the Eathly Harvest vanilla almond cereal.

A go-to drink for her is her homemade lemon infused water. She also likes coconut water, homemade beet & berries smoothies, orange juice, soy milk, lychee juice, her homemade iced kombucha tea, red wine, and lemon-lime soda. Her usuals from The Roasted Bean is a small cranberry strawberry splash & a medium hot decaf latte.

Nymphe has a girly boho sense of style. Her closet is filled with maxi skirts, sandals, wide leg pants, wedges, flats, and extra flowy maxi dresses.

She loves snacking on cucumber slices!

Aside from her main job, Nymphe has her own business- a website called somatikí evdaimonía that sells various self-care/wellness products like crystal & gem face rollers, homemade bath bombs (which her handmaidens help make), face masks, and scalp massagers. There are talks for a makeshift store to open in the Mall of Olympius. For other means of income she's a contributing writer for Vital Essence magazine. Nymphe also models for/endorses Glory's Crown (loves the ambrosia honey line of products), EverPure (the goddess Hygieia's skincare brand), White Lily Gallery, Perusasions (the goddess Peitho's fashion brand), & Heavenly Spark.

A go-to thing she loves getting at The Bread Box is the grilled chicken wrap along with a sugar snap pea and kale salad.

Outside The Horae Nymphe's good friends with Damia (goddess of naturalness), Nárkosi (goddess of sedation), Thilasmós (goddess of nursing), Epione (goddess of soothing pain), Sophrosyne (goddess of moderation, temperance, & restraint), Apheleia (goddess of simplicity), Elais (goddess of oil), Sardo (one of The Nesoi), Pherusa (goddess of substance & farm estates), Eváeros (goddess of air & the zodiacs), Selene (Titaness of the moon), Hesychia (goddess of quiet, stillness, rest, & silence), Philotes (goddess of sex, friendship, & affection), and Paean (goddess of physicians).

A guilty pleasure for her are dark chocolate mini gelato bars! Nymphe always buys two to three boxes when she shops for groceries.

She's currently in talks to be a mentor to Aceso (goddess of healing), the youngest child of Epione.

A notable vacation she took along with Damia was to The Lytêrios Oasis, the adult nudist resort owned by Pan (god of the wild, satyrs, shepherds, & rustic music).

As a gift celebrating the Summer Solstice holiday, she got a peony shaped jeweled Diamond Ave. clutch from Sardo.

As for Nymphe's romantic life, her last real relationship was with Neicus (god of debate & appeal). They mutually decided to end the relationship due to wanting different things. Before that, Nymphe was in a relationship with Helios (Titan god of the sun). She's currently messaging Corymbus (Cory) (god of ivy) on Fatestgram.

In her free time Nymphe enjoys going out on walks, yoga, swimming, knitting, sewing, meal prepping, listening to music, hiking, napping, DIY projects, reading, doing crossword puzzles, acupuncture, and surfing.

Her favorite dessert is the bougatsa waffle cone ice cream sundae from The Frozen Spoon.

Her favorite meal is a hot steaming bowl of fasolada. She also likes spaghetti chicken alfredo.

"Self-care is not self-indulgence, it's self-preservation."

#my oc #oc character #my character #my oc character #oc intro #character intro #oc introduction #character introduction #modern greek gods #modern greek mythology #greek myth retellings #greek goddess #greek goddesses #greek mythology #greek pantheon

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gojology · 3 years

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Intense Healing Session.

the request :

pairing : caring! healer! fem! reader x gojo satoru hehhehe warnings : cursing, implications of seggs after sum intense kissing, pet names wordcount : 2.0k a/n : yoyo i’m back!! semi-long one for u all. cute request, anon. sorry for late delivery. pls dont rate me a 1/5 on yelp </3 hehe the title is kinda funny LOL

You’re beginning to hate Satoru. Surprisingly, it’s not for the reasons people dislike him- he’s a bit of a blabbermouth, never quite learned how to seal his lips just because of how important he was to the jujutsu world. Unsurprisingly, he gets away with everything because he’s attractive and crucial to defeating curses, and there’s no shame in admitting it. People hate Satoru for his destructive personality, he’s carefree and doesn’t let anything get to him. This may be a good trait for the untrained eye, but look carefully and you’ll see just how hectic he gets. It’s manageable since you don’t have to deal with him at the level of the Jujutsu elders. You don’t particularly hate him for this, though. It’s the fact he puts you through so much work, for almost no reason. You’re a healer- something very important to the quaint school that you worked at. Healing abilities are often overlooked, it’s often said that if a jujutsu sorcerer can’t provide offense, then they’re not much of a jujutsu sorcerer. Unfortunately, you have little to no talent in the battlefield, so essentially you’re a meat shield to everyone. It was a growing occurrence to see him after every business trip, slightly roughed up but not enough to kill him. He comes into the room you share alongside Shoko, almost always when she’s not there, takes his shirt off, and displays a wide variety of cuts and bruises on his back like he’s a museum. You’d scold him, asking him how he’d get such abrasions with his infinity up constantly- but Satoru would hum, unanswering while you’re working your hands on his back. Maybe you’re overreacting- but something tells you he does this on purpose, perhaps to fuck with you, and you’re bitter about it. So it wasn’t surprising to see him whistle a sweet tune, hands shoved deep into his uniform pockets, casually strolling into the medical attention room for the fifth time this month. “Gojo Satoru.” you say his full name aloud, just so he knows how much you hate his presence. Turning to look at you, his face displays innocent shock, but you just know that he’s probably rolling around in the inside seeing how riled up you got just by him stepping into the room. Drained, lifeless eyes stare back at his childish bright ones. Gojo places a hand on his chest defensively, “Well, I’ll be, Y/N. When did you want to disrespect your senior?” he snickers before shutting the door behind him. “You mad?” “Unbearably. Lucky I care for you.” you utter back, venom dripping in your words, you feel like you’re making a fool of yourself as you shove your lunch aside that you had been enjoying on the tiny table next to you, sighing and rubbing your temples, tugging and effectively straightening your coat. “Get on the bed, let me work my magic.” Looking at you with a shit-eating grin, he whistles, placing his elbows against the mattress, his roughened hands caressing his cheeks. “Working your magic? I’m interested. Tell me more, Y/N. Does this involve... Getting naked, perhaps?” Staggering, you give him a dirty glare, “Satoru! I’ve been working my ass off like every week to get you all healed up, and you dare be perverted in my-” “No cursing, lil girl! You wouldn’t want this rubbing off on Yuuji-kun and everyone else, would you? You’d be charged with a felony!” leaving you stunned for a second time- the first time being when his lanky figure strode into the room like it was his room- you don’t even know how to respond. How could one possibly be so... Ungrateful for your work? Well, then again the elders existed... That was besides the point, though. You’re not even sure if Yuuji knows what the word fuck or shit is. He drags his finger lazily along the cot, drawing various shapes into existence, giving you a skeptical look. “Not gonna answer? Stumped?” He broke through your train of thought, and you shake your head. “Satoru, I don’t know any sort of fighting jujutsu, but I will fucking pulverize you and make sure you’ll be dust by the time I’m done with y-” Butting in, he raises his hand as a way to shut you up. “Honeybun, you’re an amazing jujutsu sorcerer, but I hope you realize why they call me the strongest of all time. If you haven’t noticed, it’s because I have a constant shield. The closest you can get to doing that is maybe poking me.” Giving him a snooty face, you’re frankly about to push him out of the room with sheer willpower and hatred alone. It seems he realizes this, a moment of adoration flickering across his eyes before finally neutralizing. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop playing with you. You’re so cute when I do though, like a little... Rabid raccoon! How can I not resist?” It’s difficult to tell if that’s a compliment or an insult, with Satoru, it could be several things. But, you’re still slightly flattered, knowing him he’d go out of his way to lengthen his insult if it was one- just another reason why you hated him. Being called a rabid raccoon was definitely not on Satoru’s top 10 utterly offensive insults. “Shut up, Satoru. Here, take off your shirt, what did you get yourself into this time?” He obliges with a nasty grin on his handsome features, hastily yanking off his uniform. Underneath was a very meticulously trained body, toned muscles and all. You can’t help but to also catch a glimpse of his collarbones, which were so defined it looked like it could cut your butter for your morning pancakes. You gulp, blinking, you had forgotten just how well-shaped he was in the one week you hadn’t seen him. “No need to stare, sweetums.” he chirps, realizing your darkening cheeks. “Feed my ego any more and I’ll probably burst and my organs will decorate your walls. You can donate my body to the local college, they’ll be surprised by how top-notch they are.” Giving him another stern, but much more sheepish gaze, he snaps his mouth shut, but a triumphant smile replaced his grin in place. “Please, no gruesome detailing. I’d much rather my cute kitten posters.” you motion to a white cat slumbering peacefully in a basket. “Looks just like you.” he says. You close your eyes and pretend he’s not there, choosing to ignore yet another one of his compliments, but your heart thumps faster in your heaving chest. Heaven knows how curious your hands could get if you could see where you were touching- “Those are my abs, Y/N. I think we’re focusing on my back.” he muses aloud in an almost teasing tone. You can already imagine how obnoxious his face is, opening your eyes hesitantly, blinking to adjust to the bright room lights. Your hands are still hovering above his abs, his gaze is upon yours, looking at you with a mix of speculation and speechlessness. Instead of his unusual smug smirk, there’s an almost coy expression on his features, which shocked you. “How’d your hands get there? Last time I checked, abs are at the front, not the back, hmmm?” You grit your teeth, your face flush with warmth at your sudden realization. There was no cheeky retort you could’ve possibly come up with, after all, he was right, how did your hands wander to his abs? You weren’t thinking of doing it. You weren’t interested in him either, but he was attractive. Of course you’d be too curious for your own good.. Yes, that was it.. “Your hands are still on an inappropriate place, Y/N. Except, a lil lower than last time.” he chuckles wholesomely as you jerk up, straightening yourself and clearly sweating, your arm wiping your brow and exhaling a drawn-out and awfully dramatic sigh. “Give me a break, Satoru. I just, um, you know... Zone out.” your pitch was unconvincing, high-pitched and wavering, bringing your chances of believability to a low. “So, this is like, the 375th time since you’ve zoned out, lil girl.” he tsks, “You’ve gotta sound convincing if you wanna fuckin lie, you know.” “I--” you falter, now clearly a shade darker than you were just 5 minutes ago. Your heart beating so rapidly it was almost like you were running a marathon. Why was your pulse so quick? Why was everything in the room a blur besides him? Why couldn’t you focus on healing him? What was he doing to you? “You haven’t even begun the healing process.” he murmurs, his large hands caressing your arm that was by your side. “Anything you want to tell me, pumpkin? I’m on a tight ass schedule, but I’ll let Ijichi solve that. Spit it out.” His voice rang out high and clear amongst the hectic fight that was going inside your head, steadying your thoughts. A few moments pass by, studying him, lips moving but no words coming out. Why was it so difficult to say through the insults, you cared for him, and wanted him to be more careful? Was it because of the monster inside of you, who wanted him to get hurt, to spend his time with you, listen to his horrible compliments and giggle at the jokes he made as you worked at a snail’s pace on his back, that weren’t even funny, but was funny because of his presence in the dead room, his boyish laugh very much needed in such days of flatness? “Satoru..” you finally muster out, his eyes flickering on you once more as he was studying the kitten poster with much boredom. “I just.. Care for you.” “Huh.” is all he says, face falling and examining the spotless floor. “Is that all?” Acknowledging his body language, you huff, suddenly filled with the need to defend yourself. “What else did you want me to say? I just feel like you’ve gotten yourself hurt a lot more recently and... I just, want you to be more careful. That’s all.” “No.” he was barely audible, so you had to lean down to hear him. “No, that’s not it at all. You’re hiding something. Do you prefer me to say it?” Puzzled, you peer at him with childlike curiosity gleaming in your eyes. What did he know about you that you didn’t? Surely, you knew all about yourself? “You’re not that fucking dumb, are you?” “Huh?-” you begin to speak, clearly offended, but you’re stopped. By none other than his lips. They’re soft, pillow-like even. A familiar warmth floods inside of you at the sudden physical contact from Satoru, except it’s amplified by 10 times. A moan slips out of your mouth, his hand against your back so suddenly you could’ve sworn it wasn’t there just a millisecond ago. His lips were mashing against yours, as if he wanted to have done this a long time ago. You hungrily push back, teasing your mouth with his tongue that slipped just barely into your mouth before indulging in you, which you thought wouldn’t had ever happened prior to this. You grip the back of his head firmly, as if he were to escape, other hand tangled in his snow white tufts of hair. Eyelashes fluttering, heavy breathes fanning out both of your noses, your lips were sure to be swollen after this. Your tongues dueling each other, working your mouth against his. His unoccupied hands start to play with the hem of your shirt, and another moan slips out of your mouth, anxious to have progressed so far to the removal of clothing, but at this point, you’re ready for anything. ‧₊˚✩彡. “I don’t think Gojo-Senpai and Y/N-Senpai are just in an intense healing session.” breathed Yuuji with a terrified look in his eyes, clutching his arm that was bloodied up, his head leaned close to the firmly shut door. Nobara looked like she was about to faint, looking at the door as if it was a several feet tall monstrosity of a curse. “What? What are they doing in there?” Megumi knelt down to where Yuuji was, pushing his ear against the door, and immediately his eyes shot open, a traumatized look in his fearful eyes. “What the fuck.”

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in-the-name-of-styles · 3 years

Text

Need You.

Author’s Note: Hello! After answering tons and tons of asks, and explaining how Tumblr had deleted the second part “Please Stay” to my one shot named “Only If” for god knows what reasons. I had to do this for you guys. I stopped writing years ago, and but kept my masterlist open for you to come and read my writings whenever you wish to. Trust me, this was so effing difficult for me to do! but I’m kind of proud that I removed the time and managed it. but let me inform you it’s not the same, because I do not remember what happened in the original one clearly. I hope this is a better and hopefully more well-written (amongst my other writings *cringe*) version of the old one.

It’s not proof read. I haven't edited it, so I’m sorry in advance for the typos.

So, guys, gals and non-binary pals, I present to you (apology for it being light years late) the part two to your favourite little creation of mine “Only If”, with a new identity... please welcome “Need You”!

Do let me know how it makes you feel in the ask box or comment section. I love reading them. Happy Reading!

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: tons of angst with tons of fluff, sensitive harry???? (or do you guys call it sub!harry nowadays??) anyways it’s a cute!harry :P !

It’s been four hours, and you still weren’t back. Though it wasn’t new for you to go for a drive after an argument with him, you often came back within an hour or two. The blizzard outside was making Harry quite anxious. Even though the fight was extreme, he wanted you back safe and sound. He now realised how harsh he was on you. You didn’t intentionally leak the song. It was a mistake and it could happen to anyone, himself included. He felt guilty over the way he yelled at you; it wasn’t like him to react like that.

Suddenly, Harry felt the need to do something special for you. Though he planned on apologising to you verbally, he wanted his actions to prove it too. He made his way to the kitchen to cook you your favourite meal. He got a hold of his phone and switched on the playlist which include all the songs both of you enjoyed. the sound of the vessels clucking against each other minimised over the song playing on through the speakers.

A smile lit up on his face as he reminisced back to the moment when you were dancing to this song while making the two of you breakfast.

FLASHBACK

Harry rubbed his eyes as he walked down the stairs, his dimpled smile already making its appearance when he heard your voice blasting through the kitchen entrance. He didn’t know why you bothered turning the song on so loud, you were anyways going to be louder. He stopped at the kitchen entrance, a silent laugh escaped him as he leaned against the door frame and took in the scene going on in front of him.

“You say you want a good time! Well here I am, baby, here I am, baby” you belted out loud, cheeks turning red with the happiness radiating out of you. You’d decided that the whisk was your microphone of choice with batter stuck to it and everything. You’re moving those luscious hips which drive him crazy right to the rhythm of the song.

“Talk to me, talk to me, talk to me talk to me, tell me what's on your mind!” you missed a note but you don’t care. This scene right in front of him, he wished he could capture and watch it forever. Bruno Mars did bring a wild side out of you, and he couldn’t bring himself to be jealous of the multi-talented singer. He would give anything to see you like this. Knowing you’re the shy type who doesn’t enjoy too much of attention, getting to watch you like this was definitely a sight.

He walked right up to you and wrapped his arms around you slowly. You jumped in a scare, as you were lost in your own world. “Harry! You scared me.” You complained, trying to ignore the blush on you cheeks after you realised he must’ve been watching you from a far.

He nuzzled into your neck and sighed, while pressing a kiss there, “Hmm… I’m sorry, m’love. But you just looked so beautiful I didn’t want to stop you.” He murmured while pressing more kisses to your neck, then trailing them up to your jawline. “Y’ look utterly ravishing right now. Forget pancakes, instead I’ll have you for breakfast.” He smiled and went on to kiss your cheeks. His comments made you smile. He saw his chance and lightly bite the side of your cheek. You squealed and tried to push him away.

“H, stop!” you laughed. He tightened his arms around you and swayed to the beat of the song then went on to sing next lyric “Tell me baby, tell me, tell me baby what you tryna do!” he slightly lifted up your t-shirt and moved one of his hands under it, and muttered, “huh? What are you trying to do to me, baby?” and pressed yet another kiss to your cheek.

“Gosh, your hands are extremely cold!” you gasped. He then turned you around to face him. You instinctively wrapped your arms around him. The two of you smiled quietly towards each other, then he leaned down to kiss you properly. You shifted one of your hands into his the nape of his neck and the other went on to cup his cheek. He moved one of his around your shoulder and the other around your waist. Both of you sighed and bathed in each other’s presence.

“G’morning, froggy” you teased as pulled away first and smiled up at him. He frowned and tutted, then smacked your ass lightly. You always teased him for his morning face, said it looked like a cute frog. He rubbed the area he spanked and quickly pecked you once again before pulling away to look at you.

Brushing away the hair stuck to your face, “Morning, precious. How’re you feeling?” he asked, hugging you towards his chest. Let’s just say the rest of the day went on just like this. Him being needy for your attention, and you loving on him without any hold backs.

END OF FLASHBACK

Right as he was getting ready to plate the dish, the doorbell rang. He smiled, happy to finally have you home. He quickly washed his hands and walked up to the door as he rubbed his hand dry with the towel which was once on his shoulder. He buzzed you in thinking you’ll unlock the main door with the security code. But after two minutes of waiting and not seeing you walk through the door, he turned on the camera above his buzzer to see what was wrong.

He frowned when he saw two police officers standing outside his door. His heart suddenly started racing at rapid speed. He rushed towards the door and unlocked them. Coming face to face with the two sombre looking men, he tentatively asked, “G’ evening, officers. How may I help you?”

The two men exchanged looks and the tall one replied, “Sir, there has been an accident and we found an ID on the victim. Is this Ms. Y/N Y/L/N residence? we’re here to inform you about the unfortunate event.”

“I-I don’t understand? What happened?” he stuttered, his legs almost felt as if they were about to give up.

“Unfortunately, we don’t have much information for you. May we ask what’s your relation to the victim?” the other officer asked, and gave him an apologetic smile.

“Fiancé.” He cleared his throat, trying to calm himself down. He could feel his panic attack rising. “I’m her fian-” he shook his head, “Just tell me where she is please…” he pleaded and quickly put on his shoes. He took his car keys and raced up to his rover.

“She’s over at St. Thomas, Mr. Styles.” The officers had clearly recognised the distressed man. “Here’s her ID. We hope everything is well.”

Harry couldn’t bring himself to thank them as he started his car and backed out of the parking spot. He raced up to the hospital, and once he reached, he ran up to the reception.

“Y-Y/N Y/L/N? S-She just c-came in? I’m her f-fiancé?” He gasped out your name. The lady was busy tending to others to notice him. “Hey! Hey! Please ma’am just tell me where she is!” he was on the verge of weeping in front of her.

The old lady looked at him with a bit of annoyance, “Take a breath, young man. I’m trying my best here!” She walked up to him. “Now tell me, what was her name again?”

“Y/N Y/L/N!” He rushed. He couldn’t stand straight. Once he got what he wanted, he ran towards the elevator, up to the fifth floor. The corridor was busy and he couldn’t care less about pushing people aside. He just wanted to get to you as soon as he could. He found your door and barged in, not caring about the doctors around your bed.

“Y/N!” He rushed to your side, dropping beside your bed.

“Sir you can’t be her-” the male nurse tried to pull him back.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry, precious!” He cried, trying to get the man off of him and get back to you. “I’m here now, okay? I’m not going anywhere- GET OFF ME. SHE NEEDS ME!” he yelled pushing the guy away.

“Hey man you’re no good to her at the moment yeah? Let the doctors do their job!” the nurse tried to make him understand while pulling him back yet again. Tears streamed down his face as he tried to reach to you. He sobbed over your state, blood was streaming down your forehead, and all he wanted to do was protect you and wrap his arms around you.

“No I need to be here! Please let me!” he cried. All of sudden a beep brought his cries to a halt. He looked around frantically wanting to know what had happened. “W-What’s wrong?!” he hiccupped.

The doctor and the nurses around him started rushing around the room. He then heard those words which made his heart stop, “She has flat-lined! Someone pass me the defibrillator!” the doctor raised his voice.

Harry couldn’t believe this was happening. The nurse had enough of the unwilling man and pushed him out the door, “Sir we cannot help her if you’re being difficult. Please calm down and go to the waiting room. We will inform you about her doing as soon as we can.” and then shut the door to his face. Harry could no longer see you. The group of doctors, covered your body.

He slid down the wall next to your door and sobbed into his hands. Only if he would’ve stopped you from leaving. Only if he would’ve told you that he forgives you and that he loved you more than anything. Only if he would’ve let the argument die and kiss you instead. Only if…

Later, the upset man walked himself to the toilet. He caught his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t care about his red swollen eyes, his sweaty forehead and matted hair. The image of you lying on that bed yet again brought tears to his eyes. The thought of you not making it made him retch and he rushed into one of the restrooms. He dry-heaved and cried. Once he was able to breathe, he took out his phone.

Sniffling as he dialled the only number he could think of, The voice on the other side made him breakdown. “Mum I-” he couldn’t complete his sentence, as he tried to wipe his eyes.

“Harry? Darling what’s wrong?!” she asked shocked at her son’s rapid breathing.

“Y/N s-she is- Mum I can’t lose her. I’m such an idiot. I shouldn’t have let her leave. What if she doesn’t make it?” He wept while running his sticky fingers through his hair.

“Love, what-” she tried to ask him, but he cut her off.

“What if she…What if she dies, mum?” he cried and coughed.

His mother had figured out by now that you were not okay, and might be admitted in the hospital. She tried to calm her son through the phone. Unfortunately, she wasn’t near him and by the time she would reach it might not be enough. So she did the only thing she could once Harry hung up the phone, she rang up his friends.

Harry sat himself down on one of the wating room chairs. No one was telling him anything, he had no idea how you were doing or if you were okay. He was out of tears, and soon enough the exhaustion took over him. He didn’t even realise when he had fallen asleep until he felt a hand brush the back of his head. He opened his eyes and saw his two friends crouching in front of him.

“Hey buddy…” Louis smiled softly. Harry jolted back up, and got up to run towards your room. But before he could stand up straight Mitch stopped him. “H, they just came in here to inform us about her condition.”

“How’s she? Is she okay? Is she awake? She needs me, I need to be beside her.” He rushed. His two close friends, tried to calm him down.

“They said she’s stable now, mate. But we aren’t allowed to meet her yet, okay?” Louis stated.

Harry took deep breaths and looking at their extremely destressed friend, Louis pulled him into a hug. Getting the comfort he desperately needed, Harry started sobbing again. He was tired of crying but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“Everything is going to be okay, Harry. She’s our little tigress, she’s going to pull through, yeah?” Mitch ran a hand drown his friend’s shoulder. Harry nodded lightly and tried to slow down his heart.

48 Hours Later

It’s been two days, yesterday Harry was allowed to visit you since they moved you out of the ICU. Thankfully, your internal recovery was rapid, and you could wake up anytime. He was getting a bit impatient. He wanted to see you open those shiny eyes and look at him the way you always did, with so much love that made him giddy and flustered. These past two days he’s been talking to you, continuously apologising for his behaviour, and how he’s going to make up for everything that went wrong. You just had to come back to him.

“and then Louis got frustrated because Mitch was not answering him. But that’s Mitch for you, right?” he slightly smiled and ran the hand which wasn’t holding you hand, through your hair. “You’re going to hate your hair, once you wake up. You always like them a certain way, don’t you? But don’t you worry, I’ll help you wash your hair as soon as you wake up and come back home.” He stated and kissed your hand. He was silent for a while, just continued to run his hand through your hair.

“You’re going to come back to me, right precious?” he asked quietly, “Why aren’t you waking up, huh? Your froggy needs you to open your eyes....” he continued, as he forced a laugh out of his throat which had a huge lump in it. His eyes turned misty as he continued, “I hate it here. Seeing you like this is a nightmare. I miss you so much. I miss you calling me annoying little names. I miss you smacking me when I’m being a narcissistic little prick. I miss your voice. I miss everything about you, and even though it’s just been two day, I feel like it’s been forever. Wake up, baby. Please…” he pleaded.

As the day turned into night, Harry decided to stay back. He asked for an extra blanket and a pillow for his makeshift bed on the couch. He didn’t know why he bothered because he spent the entire night sitting beside you, holding your hand as he fell asleep leaning against it.

You could listen before you could see. The only thing you could hear was the air conditioner and someone lightly snoring against your right hand. You tried to move your fingers as you opened your eyes. The bright light made you squint, you blinked rapidly as your vision cleared. You turned to your right and saw Harry’s peaceful face sleeping against your hand. You felt the need to clear your throat, and your eyes searched the room for a glass of water. But the sound made Harry wake up from his sleep. He lifted his face and wiped the little drool from his face and the little amount on your hand.

“whoops, you’d kill me now if you were awak-” he turned to look at your face, and he had to double take. He gasped, almost falling off this chair. “Y/N…Oh my- you’re awake!” he nearly yelled. He pressed the button to call the nurse and then cupped your face going on to press kisses to your face, “Baby I was so scared. I thought I had lost you!” He laughed his airy laugh and looked at you with utter happiness.

For some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. The words he said to you were the only thing swimming through your mind. For you time had stood still, like the fight had happened mere hours ago. You moved your face away from his hands. Harry frowned noticing this change in your mood.

“Hey what’s wrong? The doctor is on her way, yeah. Do y’need anything?” he asked frantically following your eyes round the room. He saw you eye the plastic cup beside your bed, “Y’ want water? Hold on I’ll get it for you.” He ran to the other side and brought the cup up to your face. You didn’t realise how thirsty you were until the first sip hit your throat, you started gulping it down quickly.

“Take it easy, precious. They took out the tube just yesterday.” He explained softly.

Once your thirst was quenched he kept the cup aside then went on to pull his sleeve over his knuckles and wiped the wet corners of your mouth. You moved your face aside yet again, he couldn’t understand what was wrong. But before he could ask you, the doctor came in to check on you. She did her tests and asked a few questions. She left as soon as she was done, and told you even though the injury looked worse than it actually is, you had take it easy for a couple of days.

Neither of you spoke for a few minutes, “How’re you feeling, love?” he asked quietly. You nodded, “I’m okay.” He came up to you and raised his hand to caress your cheek. But before he could touch you, your head turned to the opposite side. He couldn’t take it anymore, so he asked you.

“Will you please look at me? What’s happened, precious?” as he caressed your hair.

“Why should I look at you, Harry? So you can tell me how careless I am, or how I’m not trustworthy?” you rasped quietly. For a minute he was unable understand what you were trying to say. Then flashbacks from your fight the other night came back rushing to him. The things he said to you, and how guilty he felt later. His words had left a huge impact than he thought they did.

He took your face in his hand with very much to little force, he had to tell you this, “Y/N y’have absolutely no idea for how sorry I am for that night-” but you didn’t let him complete.

“That’s only because I got into this accident.” You snapped. He shook his head rapidly, he saw you getting worked up over this. You’ve always been a little firecracker, and you never failed to tell him when he was being a dick or to defend yourself quite amazingly, he always loved that quality. Apropos, he couldn’t let you hurt yourself in this condition.

“First of all, please calm down-” he started, “don’t tell me to calm down, harry!” you raged. He hated himself for smiling when you’re clearly very upset. But for the past few days he had to witness you lie there lifeless which had taken a toll on his mental state. He loved the fact that you were awake, so you yelling at him was more of a reward than a punishment. You looked at him sharply and saw him not taking you seriously, this brought tears to your eyes.

You sniffled and looked away from him to rest your head against the pillows on the raised up side of your bed roughly. Harry’s small smile melted away as quickly as it appeared. He rubbed the side you almost banged to the pillow, “I’m so sorry, precious. I swear I did not mean anything I said.” He pleaded and took a seat down on the chair beside you.

Right then the nurse which pushed him out of the room the other day and now was much like a friend to him entered the room with a tray which had a bowl of soup and jello in it. Harry smiled at him gratefully and took the tray from him as the guy set up the table on your bed.

“How’re you feeling, Ms. Y/L/N?” he asked once he was ready to leave. You gave him a small smile and said you were feeling better. The moment he left Harry looked back at you with a longing look on his face, when you refused to look at him he sighed and set the tray down on the small table and took a seat in front you on the bed. He looked at you as he removed the metal spoon from its cover, and then went on to remove the cover set on top of the soup. He blew light air on the spoonful of soup, then brought it up to your mouth. You refused to touch it. He sighed and looked at you pleadingly, “Y’ know someone told me we shouldn’t remove our anger on food.” He stated, turning your words against you.

You glared at him in anger for minute as he looked at you with a loving smile. “Please?” He moved it closer to your mouth, “You’ve got to eat it, I’m not budging unless you do, Y/N.”

Even though you wanted to stay stubborn, you were kind of hungry. So you let him feed you the soup. When he got to the jello, you refused profoundly. “But it’s the chocolate flavoured one! Remember the time we used to share one when I was here for my fractured foot? C’mon we’ll share this one too, if y’want?” he tried convincing you with his soft eyes.

“I don’t want to share it with you. Actually, I don’t want anything to do with you at the moment to be completely honest.” you snapped. You were aware of the fact that you were being very unreasonable and bitchy but it was his words that has caused extreme hurt to you. Your words hurt Harry, and it was evident on his face. He wrapped up the jello and cleared everything. The day passed, and in the evening your last visitor entered the room.

“There she is!” Louis came up to you and hugged you lightly, making sure not to hurt you. “Hello, darling. How’re you?” he kissed your forehead. Harry left you alone with him as he went to get the two of them some coffee.

“What’s happened to him? Why the long face still? I mean I get that Harry loves to pretend that he’s this macho man and all. S’ a bit ridiculous to be honest. Like who’s he kidding, he’s a puppy.” Louis laughed. You smiled at this.

“I’m still a bit upset with him over our fight. So I haven’t been talking to him.” You explained. Louis frowned at this and then sighed, “Oh love don’t do that... This has been very tough for him. Should’ve seen his state these past few days. The man has been a mess ever since the officers came to your house that night.”

“I’m trying, Lou. But I just can’t forget all the things he said. I was so hurt, I still am!” you rubbed your forehead, as it was beginning to give you an ache.

“He’s very sorry, Y/N. Trust me when I say that I’ve never seen him like I saw him that day. He just wanted you to wake up. He was just blaming himself, how he shouldn’t have let you leave the house.” He took a hold of your hand, “he loves you so much, darling. He’s absolutely mad over you.” He rubbed your hand, “A’bit obsessed if you ask me. If I were you I’d have him get that checked with a therapist.” He joked, you laughed loudly. He smiled with you, and passed you the water you signalled for.

“Forgive him, Y/N. He can’t even bring himself to go home. The only time he went there was to get some clothes, and to put the dinner he made for you in the rubbish bin.” He sassed. “and I know I’m speaking for Mitch too here when I say this, but both him and I could use a break from all the non-stop stress weeping calls we’ve been getting from him.” You gasped at him with a mock offence for Harry, and lightly smacked his shoulder. You were always thankful for Louis in moments like these. He was a great friend to you and Harry.

Harry came back with two coffees and passed one to his blue-eyed friend. He took a seat on the sofa which was against the wall, and the three of you, though it was mostly you and Louis, had a light conversation while the men finished up their coffee. Louis bid his farewell with another kiss on your forehead and a well wish, you thanked him and waved goodbye. Harry walked him out the door, and came back in a second later.

“Y’ need anything?” He asked as he took a seat on the chair beside you. You shook your head as you observed him fidgeting with the cuticles of his nails. He did that when he was anxious.

Neither of you spoke for a while. But the minute you heard a sniffle, you snapped your head towards him. You tried to get a look at his face, the tip of his nose was a bit red and he was now fidgeting with his feet too. He wasn’t crying but he sure was on the verge of it.

You suddenly felt an overwhelming amount of love for the man in front of you. You leaned against your bed and sighed, smiling a little. It’s pathetic how in love you were with each other. You couldn’t even stay mad at him.

“Harry?” You whispered softly. He hummed without looking up. So you continued, “I need you to do something” you faked a stern voice to play with him a bit more.

“Yeah sure, what’s it?” he muttered as he got up and rubbed his hands down his thighs, then finally looked at you. You looked at him without an expression and said, “I need you to come here and give me a good cuddle, a kiss too if I like the cuddle.” And then smiled at him lovingly. He looked at you for a second. You almost thought he was going to yell at you, but the opposite happened. He started tearing up and heavy tear drops ran down his cheeks.

You gasped and quickly leaned forward to take a hold of his hand which was near you. “Oh Harry..” You whispered as you pulled him near you. He the minute you sat him in front of you, he started crying heavily. You were so shocked yet you’ve never been more mesmerised by him. You quickly tried wiping his tears away and comforted him, “Honey, don’t cry. I’m not upset anymore!”

“I-I’m honestly s-sorry! I promise I didn’t mean what I said that day, Y/N!” he tried to speak while wiping his tears.

“I know, babe. I know!” you tried to say it properly but it came out in a laughing manner and tried to draw the crying man close to you, but seeing you laugh made him more upset and he pushed you away lightly, so you forcefully pulled him into a cuddle.

He told himself he’s letting himself be pulled because he didn’t want to hurt you, but it was actually because he wanted you close, so he went in head first. You lay down against the pillows and cuddle him against your chest. He went on sniffling into your neck and wrapped his arm around your waist.

“Harry why are you crying!” you tried controlling your laughter. He whined and pulled his face away, “Y’were so fucking mean since the moment you woke up. I didn’t expect it.” He said and hiccupped, thanks to the sobbing breakdown he just had. You pulled on your lips so you wouldn’t smile.

“Well now you know, honey. It hurts, doesn’t it? You were so mean to me too!” You teased. He nuzzled back into your neck, pressing kisses there which always made you giggle.

“I’m really sorry, precious. Honestly, I really am.” He said into your neck, yet producing another hiccup. You couldn’t control yourself anymore so you smiled and pressed a quite a few smooches to his temple, and inhaled his comforting scent.

“It’s okay, baby. I forgive you. I’m sorry for my foolish mistake too, I really didn’t mean to ruin your hard work like that.” You apologised. He pulled away and brought the hand that was around your waist to your cheek and said, “I forgave you a long time ago, but you honestly don’t have to apologise at all. It could happen to anyone, m’love. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. Y’know I made dinner and everything as an apology. But then the officers…” his tone dropped and he couldn’t continue. So, you sadly smiled and pulled him in for a kiss.

He sighed and reciprocated the kiss with so much love and passion that you couldn’t help but wrap the arm which around his shoulder a bit more tighter and ran the other through the back of his head gently. The two of you pulled away and looked into each other’s eyes, he moved the hair that escaped from your braid and tucked it behind your ear, “I was so scared. I thought I had lost you.” He whispered softly, and swallowed the small lump, “I missed you a lot, baby” he said and you couldn’t help but peck his cute pout.

“I missed you too, froggy” you replied. The pet name made him reward you with a dimpled smile. He nuzzled into your neck and whispered, “I love you.”

“and I love you.” You kissed his forehead.

“Just for your information, I’m not letting you out of my sight for a really long time.” He stated sternly.

You laughed but stopped when you saw he wasn’t joking, “You know I have to work, right?”

“Y’can easily take a break for a month or two.” He said, as he yawned and cuddle closer to you. “A MONTH OR TWO?! Have you gone mad?” you gasped, lightly pulling on his hair.

“No I haven’t. Try to get rid of me, baby. I dare you.” He laughed a scheming laugh. You knew he wasn’t joking. He tended to become quite paranoid and obsessive over you when situations like these occur. But you wouldn’t have him any other way.

“We’ll see, mister.” You said, and caressed the back of his head.

“oh we will, missus.”

The End.

Author’s Note: I really put in a lot of efforts on this one, so you guys kind of owe me *wink* y'all gotta humour my praise kink now!!! ;P

Love you guys!

504 notes · View notes

kingsansa · 2 years

Note

We’ll take anything… like ypu left us on “am I still your pumpkin” and i swear my heart melted sooo pwease pwease may we have more iy?

—finally mine, A sneak peek of the next chapter from Jeyne’s POV

Jeyne wakes up the morning of her Bachelorette party feeling good.

Her definition of good might be slightly different than everyone else’s.

For one, she isn’t throwing up black bile. And she doesn’t feel like she got run over then backed up on five times over, so that’s a plus too. She doesn’t look like it either: all traces of last night are completely gone, replaced with evening moisturizer and her hair is wrapped—kind of poorly honestly—but the only evidence of her bender last night is a headache that’s nothing a few painkillers and hair of the dog won’t fix, and the former is sitting on the nightstand with a tall glass of water.

God, does she love her man.

And her apartment is clean. Like actually clean. The no dishes in the sink, fresh floor vacuumed, liquor cabinet closed kind of clean. There’s no stragglers last night from the couch. No bulging trash bags full of paper utensils and red solo cups. It doesn’t even look like they had a party.

It doesn’t look like he’s here, either.

She pads through the apartment some before coming to a stop in the kitchen. There’s a note scribbled out, pinned to the island underneath a bowl of fruit. At the store. She chooses to believe he means the grocery store. She chooses to believe he means he’s not down at Stark’s Outdoor Warehouse, making eyes at all the boating accessories.

She starts by making him breakfast. All of his favorites are already in the fridge because she’s the greatest fiancee in the world, even if she only does cook them on weekends—which will change once they’ve settled more in married life, obviously—and she cooks it all just the way he likes it. Fries up his bacon to a crisp. Rolls his sausage around in a pan. Cooks his eggs flat. Puts his coffee on. Makes his pancakes from “scratch,” scratch being the box she hides deep in the back of the cabinet and buries in the trash once it’s empty. Also, if her gag reflex isn’t too trigger happy after coming out of last night unscathed, head is also on the table—

Not to brag, but she's like, pretty damn good at this.

The wind whistles through the open windows of the apartment, carrying out smoke and replacing it with fresh air and a sort of clean feeling. Her music is cranked up, blaring through a Bluetooth speaker; songs that remind her of Saturday morning chores with her parents and sisters, dancing around until they were killing themselves laughing afterwards when they finally finished.

Speaking of sisters, the family groupchat is lighting up her phone, their text message thread being flooded with what she’s sure is embarrassing videos and pictures of her from last night. She opens her phone, but only to mute them.

Peace. She’s choosing peace.

She’s so busy choosing peace, singing at the top of her lungs, flipping the last pancake onto the wide white plate where the rest of its peers lie, that she doesn’t even hear the door open. Or the sound of it closing. Or the tell tale bounding of feet.

Jeyne doesn’t even have any warning before two large, furry paws hit the handle of the oven.

“Greywind, no.” She scolds, snapping her fingers. “Get down from there! What’s wrong with you? Down. Now.”

But he only falls back at the sight of his bacon, already waiting for him off to the side on his own special dish. She holds it high above her head so he can’t tackle her for it, waiting for him to sit. At last, he falls back to his haunches with a huff of indignation.

Jeyne sits the bacon down begrudgingly, and she’s barely started to stand before Greywind starts getting ready.

Warm hands find her hips, grasping at them from behind. His nose brushes her collar right before he nips at her ear gently.

“You so crazy.” Robb sings along to the music, “I think I wanna have your baby.”

Jeyne dissolves into giggles, and he hardly allow her to catch her breath before he’s spinning her around by the hips to face him, capturing her mouth in his.

He kisses her soundly, warmly, then languidly. Draws it out like they have all the time in the world. Cupping just below her ass until her legs have no choice but to come up, so he can haul her up into his arms. Jeyne surrenders with a squeak. When she feels him grin, she nips at his lower lip. That only makes him laugh.

He only manhandles her when he’s in a good mood.

Usually, after a night out, he’s a little understandably disgruntled (nothing a little cuddling couldn't fix, usually) but not today. He spent who knows how long cleaning up the place and looking after her last night, and he’s kissing her like she woke him up with morning head, or something.

Either he spent way too much money, or he’s up to something. With his bachelor party being tonight, Jeyne is leaning toward the latter.

Camping with our dads, my ass. Jeyne thinks to herself.

But she decides to push her suspicions all the way to the back of her head. This is probably his plan, to make her so suspicious that she doesn’t have a good time. Well, that’s too bad, because it isn’t going to work. She’s going to laugh at beefy men in tiny first responder costumes spinning around a pole, and she’s going to have fun.

Robb presses his forehead to hers. “So you’re alive, hm?”

“Alive?” She repeats. “Was last night that bad?

He just stares at her, mouth twitching.

“Oh no,” Jeyne covers her face with her hands.

“You broke a vase.” He informs her.

She cringes. “The one my aunt gave us?”

“The one and only.” Robb confirms. “Then you threatened to kill people and uninvite them to our wedding.”

“To be fair, I’d do that sober.” She points out, with no measure of shame.

“And you tried to jump off the balcony.”

Jeyne gasps. “No.”

“You also threw up. Everywhere.”

“I did?”

“No.” Robb grins, full blown and beautiful. “You were a good girl. For the most part.”

Jeyne shoves him, scowling, struggling to get down.

Robb only peppers her face with kisses, rendering her immobile. He saves her mouth for last, and by the time he hovers before it, she’s straining towards him. Waiting. He likes that. When he kisses her finally, she can feel his stupid smirk.

“But you did break that vase.” He murmurs.

“It was ugly, anyway.” She says, defensive. “Just don’t tell her.”

He kisses her one more time before he sets her down. His attention drifts toward the food, which she’s surprised he managed to ignore for so long.

“You know Mom’s already making breakfast, right?”

Jeyne knows that, just like she knows it’ll probably be 20 times better than hers. But a gesture is still a gesture, and Robb has the appetite of two grown hobbits, anyway.

“Since when have you ever said no to more food?”

Robb starts to pour himself a cup of coffee. “Since I was gonna make you breakfast before you woke up.”

He couldn’t make anything but an omelette, but it’s his mother’s recipe, so it’s a really good omelette. He must have fed it to her a hundred times back when they were both in college. Back then, no matter how drunk she got, whether she was just tipsy or she blacked, no matter where she’s gotten drunk, whether it was a frat house or a keg party in the middle of bumfuck nowhere—she would always end up at Robb’s house the next morning with an omelette for her.

It’s been awhile since she’s gotten drunk. Like, a long while. But old habits die hard.

“Well, I beat you so haha.” Jeyne kisses his nose.

Robb’s brow furrows at that, as he lifts the ceramic up to his mouth.

“You’re up to something.” He says. “Aren’t you?”

“I’m up to something?” Jeyne scowls, hands on her hips. “You’re the one sneaking out of the house at the crack of dawn.”

“I needed a new pole.” He insists.

“Oh, for fishing?”

“Yes, for fishing.” Robb says slowly, bemused. “Why else would I need a fishing pole?”

She cocks her head to the side. “So that’s still your story?”

She’s supposed to be pushing her suspicion to the side. She’s supposed to be ignoring it. But if he’s going to start this, then she’s damn well gonna finish it.

“Don’t try to deflect with me!” He exclaims. “It’s not even 8 am and you’re smiling.”

Admittedly, that doesn’t happen often.

She’s still not letting him win this.

“Why do I always have to be up to something in order to do something nice?” She crosses her arms over her chest, “Why can't you just tell me I’m beautiful, and say thank you?”

Seemingly against his own will, Robb softens.

“You’re beautiful.” He kisses her nose, hand coming up to cup the side of her face. “Thank you.”

Slightly mollified, Jeyne tilts her head so he can do it again.

Instead, he kisses her jaw.

“And you’re still up to something.” He whispers in her ear.

“I already told you!” Jeyne says for the hundredth time, like she had all week. “I know just as much as you do!”

“Why doesn’t that make me feel any better?” Robb grumbles.

Sansa’s been pretty good at keeping the party planning under wraps—probably because she only just started planning it a couple days ago. But even before she started planning, Robb was flipping a tit at the idea of her going to a strip club. No matter how many times Jeyne explained that they’d only be going ironically, it still pissed him off. They must have argued over it a million times,

And every single time, Jeyne would bring up how for years, she watched him date girl after girl after girl until he finally shattered her heart for the last time, and she moved on—well, she thought she did, but that’s besides the point. If she could watch him be a serial monogamist while simultaneously leading her on for years, then he could let her go to a strip club for an hour and watch a bunch of beef cakes rip off their Party City costumes.

That always properly shut him up.

But she doesn’t feel like having this argument today, because he already gave his reluctant permission, and she doesn’t feel like fighting for it again. Because today is going to be a good day.

Tonight will be even better.

“Well, I’ll do anything to make you feel better.” Jeyne loops her arms around his neck, teasing.

This distracts him well enough.

Robb sets his mug down behind him, and his hands come to rest on her hips. Then they skim up her sides, sweeping over her stomach in an unmistakable gesture.

“Anything, huh?” He says in a low voice.

She blushes, slapping his hands away. “Robb.”

“You just said anything.” He grins wickedly at her.

It isn’t that she doesn’t want a baby.

She always knew she wanted kids one day, and family of her own. She also knew exactly who she wanted it with, from the time she was old enough to know what it meant. But Jocelyn having Junie really put things into perspective for her. She still thinks children are amazing and a blessing to have, but she also knows they’re a huge responsibility. Every time she babysits Junie, she feels like she’s watching over a little drunk person.

She would know. She’s been that drunk person.

Jeyne’s the baby of the family. She’s never had to be responsible for anything. Robb is the oldest brother of his family, so he doesn’t get that. Responsibility has always been this thing. He sends her texts to remind her to take her pill because he knows how often she forgets, for God’s sake.

He wants a baby. And she wants him, just like she always has. So a baby it is. That’s all there is to it.

“Just a few more days” She leans into him. “You can make it a few more days.”

“A few more days,” he repeats.

She has a feeling he isn’t just talking about trying for a baby. In a few more days, all of it would be gone—the stress of wedding planning, the badgering of their mothers, of her sisters. Her admittedly bridezilla like tendencies.

Just a few more days, and then they’d be free. She’d be his wife.

It only took 20 years.

“You’re my one.” He murmurs, bumping his nose against hers. “You’re my only one. You know that?”

For so long, no matter how many times he said it to her, she wasn’t sure she did. It always felt like she was inside of some dream, and any moment, she’d wake up.

This is her life now, and sometimes, she still can't believe it. But she does believe in him.

Jeyne kisses him, and she knows that he knows her answer.

His hands are underneath her shirt that’s really his shirt, and he’s got her pressed up against the counter when her phone chimes in her back pocket.

Twice.

“Who's texting you this early in the morning?” His lips are on her jaw, now. “Your girlfriend?”

Jeyne laughs, and in doing so, exposes the column of her neck. Robb dives in for the kill, sinking his teeth into a particularly sensitive spot on the hollow of her throat.

“Leave it.” He commands, stubble rasping against her skin.

If it really is Sansa, she’s just gonna have to wait.

“Okay,” she answers, too quickly, voice breathy.

Robb is stretching the collar of her shirt so he can mark a path down to her sternum when her phone buzzes again.

Three different times.

“I think it might be important,” She gasps, hands in his hair. Still, she doesn’t push him away.

Robb’s hand comes up to cup her breast. “I’m important.”

Jeyne is more than ready to agree when she hears her phone chime again.

Twice.

“Just really quick.” She’s scrambling for her phone on the counter behind her, and he’s groaning. “Two seconds, baby. I promise.”

Jeyne unlocks her phone, despite his protesting nips at her collarbone. His hand doesn’t leave her chest, though. So she knows he can’t be that upset.

She frowns at her Notification Center. “It’s your brother.”

“What?” Robb rears back at that. “Bran?”

“Rickon.”

“Why?”

She clicks on a message with a link attached to find out.

She’s directed to their iMessage thread, where he’s sent four other links. All belonging to tik tok.

Rickon - 7:52 am

Bitch ur famous 😱😱😱😱

ur welcome 💁🏼‍♀️

She clicks on the first tik tok he sent her; one of the many they made together last night. It’s well over a million likes.

Jeyne grins. “Our tik tok went viral.”

Robb stares at her, nonplussed. “Don’t all of his tik toks go viral?”

“Yeah, but these ones have me.” She says. “Duh.”

Robb rolls his eyes, hand slipping from underneath her shirt. He heads toward the stove to grab food.

Jeyne resolves to comfort him later. Right now, she’s too busy looking at all of the tik toks they made together. All of them are at least at a million. On her own account, there’s been a significant boost in her followers.

Her phone chimes again. Another text message from Rickon. It’s him replying to one of the tik toks he already sent.

Rickon - 7:56 am

Hold on

Dude look at the comments

Jeyne was going to do that anyway, but she does as she’s bid, and opens the video. It’s them lip syncing to a Nicki Minaj song. Sansa’s in it too.

She has a feeling she already knows how the comment section looks, but she opens it anyway.

Was nobody gonna tell me his sister was hot or was I supposed to find out myself?

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOBS.

Those rings on their fingers…is it too much to hope they’re married to each other

The girl on the left…MOMMY—I’m sorry….MOMMY??

Jeyne decides to like those last two comments because they’re about her. She keeps scrolling, welcoming the ego boost from all these internet strangers, who are torn between wanting her and Sansa to be a couple and wanting to date them themselves.

Then she spies something odd. A bunch of snake emojis.

It’s not just one comment spamming them, it’s a bunch of different people. More than enough to suspect that there’s something else going on. And they all have close to 20k likes.

“What the fuck?” Jeyne mutters under her breath.

“What?” Robb asks, mouth full of bacon. He comes to stand at her side.

There are people in the comment section that are just as confused.

Can someone pls tell me what the emojis mean I wanna hate too

Same, someone replies to that comment, along with a hundred other people. She has to keep clicking see more until she finally finds one comment with the barest hint of an explanation.

Check the comments of his most recent lol

With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Jeyne goes to Rickon’s profile, and clicks on the last video he posted.

It does feature her, but only for a few seconds. A sped up version of substance is playing in the background, and Robb has his arms around her waist as he kisses her neck, purposefully obnoxious. Then the video cuts to Sansa in the living room with Jon, his hand on her lower back. They both catch sight of the camera at the same time, but while Jon frowns, Sansa leans into him, pressing their cheeks together as she sings along to the words. Jeyne narrows her eyes at the sight of them so close.

She decides to blame it on the alcohol.

But nobody knows what she knows. So why does the video warrant such controversy? Jeyne clicks on the comments to find out.

Comments acting like she's ugly why lie?

And a lot of them are calling her ugly, all accompanied with a bunch of snake emojis. But there are just as many calling out the hate and saying that she’s gorgeous. Jeyne suspects it's Sansa they’re talking about, not her. This is only confirmed when she sees an influx of goat emojis.

Jeyne freezes.

Pretty much everything she knows about hockey she knows against her will.

But her dad is a fan, just like everyone in this town is a fan, and once upon a time, Jeyne believed that the best way to capture Robb’s heart was through hockey. That was how she first learned about Jon Snow. Through him, when he was playing for the Direwolves.

But hockey fans didn’t start calling him the GOAT until he won his third Stanley cup with the Wildlings. He won it the year before, too. And he was captain that entire time..

So objectively, yeah. Jeyne can admit that he’s the greatest of all time. Even if she doesn’t like him all that much.

I never liked him lol, one comment reads.

Dany was always too good for him!!! Another agrees underneath. 50.2k likes.

“Oh Jesus,” she mutters.

Jeyne knew of Dany, of course. There were few people who didn’t. She’s French and gorgeous and is seemingly famous for no reason at all. A high fashion, philanthropic it girl if you will.

It was just Sansa’s luck, that she fake married a man that dated a woman with the most insufferable fans.

“What?” Robb demands once more.

Jeyne doesn’t answer. She keeps scrolling until she finds one comment in particular that makes her heart drop.

Like this if u came from deuxmoi 👀👀👀

253.2k likes.

“No, no, no.” She whispers under her breath, stomach dropping, refreshing and refreshing.

Like this if u BEEN knew cuz if deuxmoi lol

99.1k likes.

Hundreds of comments underneath the link see more, agreeing.

I saw it on People magazine I feel left out 😔

People fucking magazine.

Jeyne screenshots the exchange and sends it to Rickon. Then her phone chimes again. And again. And again.

Her sisters, all sending links individually. Ok magazine, glamour magazine, Cosmopolitan magazine—

A different photo of Sansa and Jon prefacing each leak. Leaving an airport, standing in a parking lot, entering a stadium—

“Holyyyyyyyy shit.” Jeyne breathes, numb with shock.

“What the hell is going on?” Robb asks, sounding a little irritated now.

Jeyne tries to search for the words to explain it, but finds she comes up empty. She just keeps opening her mouth and closing it.

Finally, she just comes out with it the best way she knows how.

“Your sister is famous.”

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reidingmelodies · 3 years

Text

Dinos and Tigers and Donuts, Oh My!

Summary: Spencer wanted one thing this year: for your kids to plan his perfect Father’s Day Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Includes: dad!Spencer, heavy mentions of Father’s Day, mentions and consumption of food Category: Fluff Word Count: 2.6k A/N: This isn’t my favorite, but it’s been sitting in my drafts for awhile all the same! Happy Sunday ♥️

When Spencer was called away on cases your house seemed to lose a bit of its charm. Mornings felt more tiring than ever before, the afternoon slumps dragged on for what seemed like years, and dinners, even with babbling five and seven-year-olds at your side, were a little too quiet.

This time around though, things were different. You woke up to your five-year-old daughter sitting by your feet, her mind preoccupied by one of the search and find books Spencer had bought her the week prior.

The space next to you was empty, a piece of paper lying where your husband previously was, and you knew exactly what it was going to say before you even picked it up.

Good morning, love,

I got called on a case this morning, but it’s local and the team thinks we can wrap it up by tonight. The kids both ate breakfast- and PSA that they were a little too excited I was going to be gone for the day. I don’t know what they’re planning, but good luck. I love you, and I’ll see you soon.

-Spencer

Unlike Spencer, you knew exactly what the kids were excited for, and it had everything to do with Father’s Day being tomorrow- you just hoped he would be home in time to celebrate like he predicted.

You folded the letter and placed it in your nightstand along with the others you’ve found gracing his pillow in years past when your bedroom door opened just the slightest amount.

In walked your seven-year-old son, comically exaggerating his tip toe motions as he stage whispered to his sister.

“Is Mommy still sleeping?” He shifted his gaze in your direction, all effort to keep quiet out the window when he saw your eyes meet his.

“Mom! Guess what?” you opened your mouth to respond, but your daughter beat you to the punch.

“Daddy left for a work trip this morning! So, we can make our plan today while he isn’t here!”

There was no denying that your kids loved their daddy, that was for sure.

“That’s so great!” you matched their enthusiasm with ease, getting ready for the day while they kept brainstorming in the background.

Just last week, you had asked Spencer what he wanted to do for Father’s Day over dinner, and the children were as attentive as ever, eyes wide and lips pursed as they waited to hear the plans for the big day.

But, to their amusement, Spencer’s only plan was that they plan the entire day. His reasoning was that they were the reason he was a dad so they should be the ones to decide what to do, but really you knew the truth was that he overheard their whispers about having the perfect plan for his day.

A plan you were finally going to be let in on, so it seemed.

The three of you made your way down to the kitchen where you settled down with your breakfast, eyebrows raised in enjoyment at your children. They were sat across from you with a stash of markers and fresh index cards, and they had a few stacks of previously filled out index cards resting along the center of the table.

Ah- so that’s where they’re going with this.

It had become a bit of a family tradition to have a family scavenger hunt whenever you had a full weekend together. You and Spencer were all too familiar with the concept of cherishing the time you have with your loved ones, and there were many a weekend where Spencer was called away, or you were busy with a million other plans ranging from extended family gatherings to birthday parties or weddings.

It was all the more reason to make the moments where it was just the four of you count even more- and thus, family scavenger hunts were born.

When they were toddlers, the scavenger hunts centered around finding certain shapes or colors, be it in the house or at the park. Once every item was checked off you would have a family outing of their choice: the go to choice used to be another trip to the park (the one with the ‘fancier’ slides this time), but with the upgrade to slightly harder scavenger hunts centered on science and math they’ve upped their prize to ice cream.

What could you say? They were Spencer’s kids through and through.

“Wow!” you exclaimed, relishing in the beaming smiles on their faces, “do you guys want to make a scavenger hunt for daddy?”

Two enthusiastic faces nodded eagerly in your direction as your son grabbed one of the red markers.

“Yes! And we can have dino pancakes in the morning and get donuts after our scavenger hunt at the zoo- all of daddy’s favorite things!”

Dino pancakes were a Sunday morning staple in your home- you would use a cookie cutter to cut out a dinosaur shaped pancake, and the kids would eat those while you and Spencer would eat the ones with the dinosaur outline in them (and a few regular ones for good measure). But donuts instead of ice cream? That was new.

“That’s a great idea, I’m so proud of you guys for working together to plan this,” you praised, “but why donuts?”

Your daughter peered up from the index card she was drawing flowers on to answer your question, “because they’re daddy’s favorite and it’s daddy’s day!”

“And for our scavenger hunt we want all the animals to spell out ‘best dad ever’,” your son tacked on at the end, already beginning the task of writing numbers and circling them on the front of the card.

That was another newfound tradition for your family. Now that the kids were learning to read, the two of you would try to have the first letter of each answer spell out a certain word or phrase. Sometimes, it would be something like ‘I love you’ or ‘hello’, other times it would be the name of a special someone that would be joining you for ice cream afterwards (so far ‘Aunt Penny’ and ‘Uncle D’ were their favorite ones to come across).

You grinned once more, moving to grab your laptop and pulling the Smithsonian’s National Zoo site up to look at their list of animals.

“Alright, my loves- let’s do this”.

***

Three hours, eleven index cards, one snack break, and two very patient children later, your scavenger hunt was finished, index cards clipped and ready to go for the following morning.

Each index card had blank slots, the number of which corresponded to the name of the animal, on the front of the card with three fun facts written on the back. In retrospect, Spencer wouldn’t even need the slots (or more than one fun fact, to be fair), but you knew he’d make a show of trying to think of each and every animal tomorrow afternoon.

Yet another reason you loved him.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur, all of your energy going into spending time with your kids. But once they went to bed, that energy was refocused into prepping for tomorrow to take your mind off the fact that it was nearing 10 PM and your husband wasn’t there.

You couldn’t bear to think of your kids disappointment if he didn’t make it home that night.

Outfits out and pancakes ready to be made, you made your way to the couch when the clock struck 11:30 PM, ready to settle in for a movie while you awaited his return but there was no need- as you walked into the room your husband made his way through the front door. He looked as exhausted as ever, but the glimmer in his eyes proclaimed what you knew to be true.

He was happy to be home.

***

7 AM the next morning found you face to face with two wide eyed children gently shaking you awake, joy radiating from them as they saw that their father was fast asleep next to you.

With much persuasion in the form of puppy dog eyes, you made your way out of bed and into the kitchen to start the first task of the day: dino pancakes.

Your little helpers set the table and brought Spencer’s gifts from the coat closet and into the dining room in the meantime, and as you placed the last pancake on a plate two arms wrapped around you and pulled you back tightly.

“Good morning, darling,” his raspy morning voice brought a soft smile to your face, and you leaned your head back to kiss his lips in greeting.

“Happy Father’s Day, Spence,” you laid another kiss against his lips, pulling back as the patter of little feet made their way into the kitchen.

“Daddy! Happy Father’s Day!”

“Daddy! Come see your gifts and eat pancakes!”

Two little voices fought for the spotlight, and Spencer kneeled to the ground to wrap the both of them in a hug. You laughed at the scene, watching as they squeezed him just as hard before grabbing onto his arm and leading him to the dining room table.

“C’mon, Dad,” your son pulled his chair out and pushed his gifts closer to his seat, “let’s eat and open gifts!”

“Gifts? You guys know I don’t want anything,” his brows furrowed as he looked at you, but you shrugged your eyes and took a bite of your pancakes in response.

“You always say that,” you rightly claimed, “and we always buy you gifts anyway- it’s practically tradition”.

You had a point, there.

Breakfast passed by in a blur of conversation, dad jokes, and present unwrapping. And just like that, Spencer was the owner of new books to pass his time on the jet, a 5k puzzle you were sure he’d solve in an hour flat, and a homemade Father’s Day shirt with your children’s handprints decorating a globe, the words ’Best Dad in the WORLD!!!’ gracing the blank space.

His eyes sparkled when he saw the shirt, and you swore you’ve never been happier to call that man your husband and the father of your children.

Granted, that thought passed your mind no less than fifteen times a day, but still.

Within the hour, the four of you were out the door and on the way to the zoo, Spencer’s Father’s Day shirt proudly on display.

You drove with a grin, the radio turned off in favor of listening to your children explain today’s scavenger hunt to Spencer. They were practically giving a word for word verbatim of what the two of you usually told them pre-scavenger hunt, all the more proof that your kids were sponges.

An equally exciting yet terrifying thought.

You were at the zoo within half an hour, your hand intertwined with your son’s while your daughter latched onto her father, everyone eager to start the scavenger hunt.

“Alright, guys,” Spencer began, “what’s our first clue?”

“Mommy can read it!” your daughter piped up and you nodded, grabbing the small pile from her hands before reading the first card of the day.

“Okay, so! This animal has six letters in its name, and your three fun facts are: whiskers help this animal detect objects around them which helps them navigate the dark, they’re the largest rodents in North America, and when they’re in danger they slap their tail on the surface of the water” you finished your explanation and watched as Spencer’s eyes lit up in recognition, but just as you predicted he dragged the process out instead of guessing right away.

“Hm, it sounds like we should go to the rodent exhibit first!” He proclaimed, and your kids nodded, walking in a row like little ducklings to the exhibit.

The four of you took your time looking at each of the animals, until you came face to face with the animal in question. “Aha! I think the animal we’re looking for is a beaver,” his answer was met with cheers from both of your children, and you wrote the answer in the blank slots before continuing with the hunt.

At the end of the hour you added an electric eel, sloth bear, tiger, dama gazelle, alpaca, and degu to the list. Eight animals down, four to go.

Which was fantastic, considering that your kids were starting to get antsy for donuts.

“Okay, guys! Are we ready for our next animal?” You were walking hand in hand with Spencer, your kids skipping directly in front of you and eagerly shouting in affirmation at your question.

The four of you stepped to the side, and you grabbed hold of the fourth to last index card before reciting the hints.

“Alright so! This animal is two words, seven letters in the first word and seven in the second. They have whiskers that look like mustaches, they’re native to the southwest Amazon Basin, and they have claws on each of their toes but the big one”.

“Hmm.. I don’t know guys, what do you think?” Spencer turned to your children, smiling wide when your son giggled in response.

“We can’t tell you, Dad! It’s a secret”.

Spencer laughed, sighing in defeat as your daughter gestured for him to come closer. He did as asked, leaning down until she able to reach his ear, “I think we should go to the monkey exhibit!”

Her not so quiet whisper brought a smile to both yours and Spencer’s faces, and a grimace to your son’s but to the monkeys you went, where you came face to face with an Emperor Tamarin.

From there you crossed a Von der Decken’s Hornbill and an Eld’s Deer off your list until you had one animal left.

“Alright, my love- last one! This animal is two words, three letters in the first one and five in the second. They mainly eat bamboo, their fur acts like a camouflage when they climb in trees, and they live in temperate forests in the Himalayas,” you finished your spiel with a quick eyebrow raise towards your children, both of which were not so discreetly pointing at the red panda exhibit just a few feet away.

“Is it a red panda?” Spencer asked, giving both your kids high fives when they jumped up and down in excitement.

“Yay Daddy, you got it! And guess what all of the first letters spell? Best dad ever!” your daughter jumped into his arms and Spencer chuckled, spinning her around and laying a gentle kiss on her head.

“Is that so?” he asked, “you three are too nice to me”.

Truthfully, you didn’t think it was possible to be too nice to Spencer.

“How about our last surprise for Daddy now, my loves?” your question was met with enthusiasm from your little family, and you were back in your car and on your way to Spencer’s favorite bakery in ten minutes flat.

As you pulled up to the bakery, two eager children and one extremely happy father made plans as to what donuts they were going to eat.

It was decided that Spencer would get a chocolate frosted donut with sprinkles, your son would get a glazed donut, and your daughter would get jelly.

And you? You had every intention to get your favorite too, but above all you were just happy that another amazing Father’s Day was in the books for Spencer.

The seventh of many.

***

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