#I’ll be fine I’ll drink some coffee and I’m sure adrenaline will keep me awake as well

[southislandwren]

Woke up at 5am out of stress and now I’m just sitting here sleepy but too wired to actually sleep. Yay 8 hour car drive later today

#I’ll be fine I’ll drink some coffee and I’m sure adrenaline will keep me awake as well #but like. I’m eepy RIGHT NOW and want to sleep #anyway. bestie says I should tell him I have a crush on him for the plot and I just might do it #but more likely what will happen is nothing and we will continue to just be friends . sighh #alright gamers. I’ll diary post after the trip . but for now I’m gonna lay down and shut my eyes #diary post

[turtle-steverogers]

i was thinking but do you know the unsent project? it is this website where you can write a message to your first love that you never sent to them. now imagine steve writing one (or multiple) to bucky after he came out of the ice after nat told him about it... yeah

hello hi anon this broke me and it was too perfect not to turn into a ficlet klafjldskjfalskf thank you

-

Unsent Letters

To:

Steve’s fingers freeze over the keyboard, the cursor blinking at him. It feels like it’s taunting him-- teasing him with the burden of choking out a name. What should he even say? The sender is anonymous, but how many people are named Bucky out there? Would anyone even care?

To: Bu

Steve huffs and backspaces, his hands trembling as he curls them into fists. He isn’t sure what provoked Natasha to tell him about this website. It’s a cruel tease to everything he wishes he could say-- wished he could say before Bucky slipped through his fingers. And now his only option is yelling into an abyss. The text box is black and daunting. He turns it yellow. No, too happy. Green. Yes, that’s fine. Bucky’s favorite color was always green.

His gaze wanders away from the screen of his hefty Dell laptop and out the window of his apartment. DC’s low rising buildings span out in front of him. His gut aches; he misses New York already. But he knows being there would only mangle his soul further, seeing his already alien home torn to shreds by literal space whales. He huffs, thinking of Bucky’s comics. His stories came to life after all. Bucky would have probably vibrated out of his skin if he knew there was other life out there.

To: My astronaut

How’s space treating you? It’s treating me pretty badly, if I’m being honest. If only you could see what it’s done to Brooklyn. I think you’d be pretty mad at it if you knew…

Steve hesitates, reading back over what he’s typed. It’s stupid as hell, and he cringes, but he doesn’t backspace. His fingers find the keys again.

I miss you something awful. I don’t think that even encompasses how much I’m hurting without you. I feel so lost right now-- space is much bigger and scarier than you’d think. I know you’d love it. I wish you could see bits of it, but god, I just want to go home. I want you to come home.

Steve freezes again and finds the screen blurry where tears have welled in his eyes. His jaw clenches as he pictures the way Bucky would laugh at him-- teasing him for his dramatics and ruffling his hair. He wishes he could be there now, rolling his eyes and nudging Steve’s shoulder.

“What’re you upsetting yourself for?” He’d say, gently closing the laptop and coaxing Steve into his arms. “I’m right here, pal.”

And if Steve closes his eyes, he can almost feel Bucky’s warmth enveloping him. But he’s not there. He’s dead, and Steve’s a goddamn ghost, drifting through a future that doesn’t know him.

He opens his eyes and stares at the text box, then clicks submit.

The screen loads, and his message is gone, his pain forever documented in the abyss.

-

For someone who fought aliens two weeks after waking up from his impromptu seventy year sleep, Steve’s life is pretty monotonous. He contemplates this unfortunate fact as he stands in front of his toaster, hair sticking up on the back of his head as he nurses a mug of coffee and waits for his toast to pop.

It’s 5:45 in the morning and he tries to remember a time when he didn’t rise this early. Before the war, perhaps. Though, he’s always been a bit of an early bird. His home life was sporadic to put it lightly and he’d learned from an early age that the sooner he was awake, the better it was for everyone. Vigilance is not a new concept for Steve.

He hasn’t always stayed up late, though. That’s certainly new, and he feels this fact viscerally as he catches sight of his reflection in the microwave. There are bags under his eyes that will be gone by mid-morning thanks to the serum. Dermatologists hate him, Natasha says. Steve thinks he’s pretty lucky that the serum more or less equipped him with a built-in anti-aging agent. His father had started balding by thirty.

His toast pops and he starts a little, blinking blearily at the slightly burnt bread as he pulls it out of the toaster with his thumb and forefinger. He spreads on the same raspberry jam and butter that he uses every morning and tries not to think of how bland it tastes in his mouth as he eats it standing at the counter. Another routine.

He tries not to look at last night’s dishes in the sink as he stacks his plate and silverware on top and doesn’t bother sorting out his hair before pulling on his sneakers and slipping out of his apartment. The sun hasn’t quite risen yet, only the beginning tendrils of light sneaking over the low tops of the DC buildings, and Steve vaguely regrets not grabbing a sweatshirt before he left. It’s not quite Summer yet and the mornings could still get pretty cool.

He’s about to take off down the street when he freezes. Natasha is sitting on the steps of his complex, wearing a pair of pink tinted sunglasses and tossing up and down the keys to her car. Steve blinks, rubs his eyes, then blinks again. Nope. She’s still there.

“Nat?”

Natasha looks up at him and smiles. “Hello.”

Steve shifts, uncomfortable. “Hi. You need something? Is there a mission?”

“No,” Natasha says lightly, standing. “You’re not running this morning, though. Come on, I’m taking you to Starbucks.”

“What?”

“Starbucks. You’re going to try it.”

“I don’t want--”

“Steve, you do the same thing every day. Step out of your comfort zone a little.”

Steve frowns, but Natasha’s right-- he really doesn’t ever stray from his routine.

“Fine,” he says, and twenty minutes later, they’re strolling into the nearest Starbucks.

He’s only been in one before, and that was to use the restroom while on a run. He’d bought a water bottle in an attempt to not be rude and use their facilities without giving them any business, but he hadn’t even considered the expansive menu. All the fancy names were too daunting.

They’re just as daunting now as he stares up at the board, heart hammering out of his chest as he’s faced with indecision. Natasha takes one look at his face, and reaches out to squeeze his arm.

“I’ll order something for you,” she says. “What kind of coffee do you like?”

Steve gives her a pained look. “Um… just coffee?”

Natasha quirks a smile and orders him something called a caramel macchiato. He’ll take it, he guesses.

The drink is too damn sweet and sugary and he almost gags. Still, he was always told to finish what he was given, so he drinks the whole thing.

-

To: Mr. Sweet Tooth

You’d fucking love it here. Everything is packed with sugar and sweetness-- enough to make even my teeth rot. I had something called a caramel macchiato today and it tasted like someone took your ma’s caramels and condensed them into a cup. I couldn’t stand it, but I know if you were here, you’d want at least twelve. I hope you’re enjoying all the sweets you can up in space.

Love, Mr. Boring

-

Steve’s fingers are stiff and frozen as he works at the straps of his stealth suit. The tangy taste of saltwater still sits heavy on his tongue, and he clenches his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering too harshly as he finally peels off his suit. It’s not much better, being naked, but at least the wet fabric isn’t clinging to him anymore.

The mission had been pretty straightforward until some alien tech managed to blast the quinjet to kingdom come, and they all free-fell straight into the freezing Atlantic.

Steve had managed to keep it together as they took down the goddamn mad scientist that fucked them over, but now that he’s home and alone, he can feel the adrenaline crashing.

He’s shaking from more than just the cold as he draws himself a warm bath, and he pulls his knees up to his chest, trying to breathe through the panic that wants to engulf his entire being.

He loses time for a bit, and comes back to himself lying in his bed, burrowed under several thick layers. He feels so cold, down to his very soul-- a chill that he can never seem to truly shake, even when he’s warm.

Not for the first time, he wishes Bucky were there to hold him. He slips off to sleep thinking old, comforting thoughts of Bucky rubbing his hands between his own, coaxing his head under his chin to engulf him in that natural warmth of his. He always was a fucking furnace.

But when Steve wakes an hour later, shaking hard enough to move the bed with the force of the nightmare he’d dropped into, Bucky is not there to soothe away the ice.

-

To: JB

im so cold and i cant breathe ever and nothing feels right. I dont know what to do, u were always the problem solver between us and i cant think straight right now and i just want you here please. I cant do this anymore, im so tired please come back. I need you please

-

The Winter Soldier file sits in front of Steve-- a horrifying nightmare wrapped up in a neat brown folder. Residual nausea swirls around in his gut as he comes down from the horrible high of reading through the contents. His hands shake where they grasp the thick paper. His heart clenches hard in his chest.

Bucky is alive. Bucky is alive, and he’s been unmade.

Steve doesn’t know where he is-- if he’s escaped, or if Hydra found him again. It’s been three weeks now since the helicarriers, and he’s only just gotten the courage to sit down and wade through the shit that is Bucky’s reality.

He just hopes he’s safe. God, he hopes.

Sam says he’ll help him look, and Steve needs to know he’s at least out of danger, but he barely knows where to start.

And he’s sorry. He’s so fucking sorry.

Blinking out of his reverie, Steve looks at his laptop. He feels strange and detached as he reaches for it and logs in.

To: Bucky

And yes, that feels right. He should use his name, since he suspects no one has for a long, long time.

I’m so sorry for what happened to you. I’m sorry that you’ve been hurting so quietly for so long. I understand if you’re not ready to come home-- I understand if you never are. I just hope that you know that there will always be a place with me that is safe. I love you so much and I’m here, forever and always.

Love, Steve.

He’s not naive. He knows it would be dangerous to submit that particular message, so he doesn’t. But that’s okay. That one’s just for him-- for them.

-

“Steve? What is the… Unsent Project?”

Steve frowns and pokes his head out of the kitchen. Bucky is sitting on the couch in the living room, using his laptop, because his own is having storage issues.

Bucky looks at him. “It’s one of your saved tabs. What is it?”

And oh, fuck. Steve had forgotten to remove that from his homepage-- it really wasn’t needed anymore. He blushes all the way to his ears.

“Oh, it’s-- nothing. Not anything important--”

But Bucky has already clicked on the tab.

“The Unsent Project,” he reads aloud. “A collection of unsent text messages to… first… loves…”

He trails off as he processes what he’s looking at, and Steve can’t quite read his expression when he looks at him again. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he’s looking at Steve like he’s some sort of kicked puppy. Steve shifts, uncomfortable.

“Were you sending me… messages? While I was dead?”

Steve swallows. “Um…” and now that Bucky says it out loud, it really does sound quite sad. He shrugs. “It’s Natasha’s fault?”

Bucky shakes his head, clicking on the search bar. He starts to type his name, but Steve shakes his head.

“I didn’t use your name.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, then frowns at him again. “What did you use?”

Steve blushes harder, sitting next to Bucky and taking the laptop from him.

“Um…” he hesitates, then types what he was sure he used as his first alias.

My astronaut

The screen buffers and loads, then fifty or so messages pop up. Steve scrolls down-- it doesn’t take long to find his.

They’re both quiet as they read, and Steve cringes. Jeez, he really had been pretty dramatic. Next to him, Bucky makes a hurt noise.

“Oh, honey,” he murmurs, taking the laptop back from Steve. He reads the message again, then once more, and reaches out for Steve. “Aw, I’m here now.”

Steve huffs, embarrassed. “I know,” he says. “That was way back, like, three weeks after I woke up.”

Bucky stills. “You fought aliens three weeks after you woke up?”

“... More like two.”

Bucky hums. “Are there others?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, reaching out to type on Bucky’s lap, because Bucky is holding him now and he’s quite reluctant to move. He thinks for a moment, then types in the next one he remembers.

Mr. Sweet Tooth

Bucky laughs, and Steve finds himself smiling.

“I find this funny,” Bucky says. “Because caramel macchiatos are definitely one of my favorites now.”

Steve laughs, too, and butts his head against Bucky’s shoulder.

“If only I could tell that to myself back then-- he’d be thrilled.”

“I’m sure,” Bucky says. “Any more?”

Steve hesitates, thinking of the one he’d sent after that nightmare-- when he was low and hurting. Incoherent. He isn’t sure he wants Bucky to see that particular side of his soul, but Bucky has been more than generous in letting him in on his pains nowaday, and it’s not like Bucky hasn’t witnessed Steve’s own current nightmares.

He bites his lip and types in JB. That seems to yield a lot more results, and it takes a while for Steve to find the message.

He hides his face in Bucky’s neck as he reads. Bucky’s arms gradually tighten around him, and a moment later, he feels him kiss the top of his head.

“Honey, I hate that you were hurting so bad,” Bucky mutters against his hair.

Steve shrugs. “We both were,” he says, and it’s true. There’s something to be said about the guilt they both feel for not being able to save the other person at their lowest, but life hasn’t been kind to them. The vitriol, Steve thinks, should be directed at the goddamn universe for keeping them apart, not themselves for fucking dying. They’re working on it.

Bucky’s quiet for a long time. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he says. “Is that it?”

Steve shakes his head. “But I never sent the last one.”

“Why not?”

“I wrote it after DC.”

He feels Bucky squeeze him again, and he squeezes back.

“Oh.”

“I just-- I wanted you to know that you didn’t have to come home. That I just wanted you to be safe; needed to know you were safe, but it was up to you. I just needed you to know I was here, if you needed me.”

Bucky pulls back then and cups his face, kissing him soundly. Steve’s surprised for only a moment before he’s kissing back.

“I did know that,” Bucky says against his lips. “I needed time-- I was lost-- but the first thing I knew when I remembered who you were was that you were a safe person, because you’d never force me anywhere.”

Steve kisses him again, then pulls him into a hug. “I’m glad you knew that.” It’s warm, where their chests meet, and Bucky is solid beneath him. Real. He isn’t speaking into an abyss anymore.

-

There’s a sticky note on Bucky’s pillow next to his head when he wakes up the next morning. Steve’s side of the bed is already vacant, and he can’t hear him downstairs. He must have already left for a run.

Propping himself on an elbow, Bucky plucks up the sticky note.

To: My Bucky

Thank you for choosing me to be your home, and thank you forever, for being mine.

I love you with everything I have.

Love, your Steve

Bucky smiles, heart light as he folds the notes. He’ll keep that one with him, he thinks. A little bit of home to bring wherever he goes.

-

anyway yeah fslkjflaskjfls i-- ouch. anything to do with letters w these two hurts me immensely

#i did not proofread this at all so i just kNOW im going to read this back later and find a whole bunch of typos oops #stucky #stucky fic #steve rogers #bucky barnes #idiots in love #sad stevie aw

[writer-k-pop]

Lil’ Drunk

기억나? Do you remember it?

Description: Alcohol is something you never touch, it's just not your cup of tea. But one night, you decide to throw caution to the wind because you were feeling guilty for being the only sober one whenever Woozi and his friends drink together. But after you drink a little too much, Woozi is called in to get you home safely. Warnings: Swearing Genre: Angst, Fluff, BF!Woozi x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.4k

Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

"She's...." Woozi's voice trails off on the other end of the line.

"Drunk." (y/f/n) finishes, holding your phone up to her ear.

"How? She never drinks." He wonders incredulously but at the same time is scrambling to collect his things.

(y/f/n) shrugs, "Well, she did tonight. And she drank a lot."

"Is she gonna get sick on the way home?" Woozi wonders, slightly worried about how he's going to get you home.

"I don't think so. She's just very, mm, very emotional." (y/f/n) says glancing over as you have your head buried in your hands. Not tears yet, just massive amounts of guilt.

Woozi sighs more out of worry than anything. Worry because you really never drink. Partly because you're a lightweight and partly because you hate, absolutely despise, the way alcohol makes your body feel. Gets you all red and itchy and it's not a fun time for you.

"I'll be right over. Could you text me your address?" Woozi asks, slipping on his jacket.

"Yeah, no problem." (y/f/n) says and hangs up before texting Woozi her address. Then she places your phone back into your purse.

Your hands drop from your face then and you continue your previous rant, cheeks are still bright red as is the little amount of chest showing. And from the last bathroom trip, everyone knows your thighs are also cherry red.

"I just, I just feel so so so bad." You lull your head to the side. "Like I know it's not my fault for not enjoying alcohol or the taste or how it makes my body feel but I feel so bad when all his friends are drinking and I'm the only sober one."

"Who wants to play another game?" Another one of your friends asks, trying to break the odd tension you've created. But the question only springs another tangent from you.

"And games!" You throw your hands into the air, "When we play games and it involves drinking I try not play because half of the time Woozi has to drink for me! Why am I always the sober one?" You lean in close to the person next to you to emphasize your question.

"Because you have your reasons." She answers your question with a humored smile. She's clearly enjoying your drunken state as are the others along with a little worry cause they've never seen you drunk or drinking before.

"My reasons make me feel guilty." You pout like a child. "I'm starting to wonder if I should drink more and force myself to get better with it all."

"No, no, no." (y/f/n) quickly shakes her hands in front of her, "That's probably not a good idea. Remember the last time you tried that?"

"When did I ever do that?" You ask, blinking blankly at her.

"Before you finally gave up on alcohol the first time." She reminds you and the memory resurfaces like a bad nightmare.

You visibly shiver and suddenly have a craving for water. "Pass me the water bottle?" You reach out a hand and one of your friends places it in your hand. "I still feel guilty as hell though." You mention after taking a couple sips.

Before you could spiral back into the guilt ridden speech, Woozi knocks on the front door.

"Who's that?" You whip your head around as (y/f/n) goes to answer the door.

She opens the door and reveals Woozi to the room and to you. As soon as you see him, you press your lips together to keep from saying anything about your earlier rant.

"You ready to go?" Woozi asks you, walking closer with a warm smile on his face. If you were sober you would've noticed the tinge of worry in his eyes but you were drunk so that detail went way over your head.

Not wanting to break your newly found code of silence, you simply nod your head though questions are flying through you mind.

Why is he here?

Where am I ready to go?

Is he taking me?

Are we all going together?

(y/f/n) hands Woozi your purse as you stand and walk to his side. Then he wraps an arm around your waist and leads you out of (y/f/n)'s place. You stumble here and there but are pretty stable when walking which brings some relief to Woozi.

"Did you have fun?" He asks you while waving down a taxi.

Again, in your code of silence, you just nod while focusing on staying standing and not letting your butt meet the concrete sidewalk.

Within seconds, a taxi pulls up and Woozi ushers you into the back seat before joining you and telling the driver an address. You're not sure if it's your address or his. If it's his then you're going to be going to an apartment with twelve other guys who will definitely never let you live this down. But that thought hasn't hit you yet.

You let your head fall onto Woozi's shoulder during the car ride and he lazily intertwines your hands together.

"Are you feeling okay?" He asks you quietly and you just nod your head truthfully.

"How much did you drink?" He continues to question you but you only shrug, staying silent.

Woozi chuckles, "(y/f/n) said that you were being chatty and ranting about something. But now you're all quiet."

Again, you just give him a small shrug as an answer.

"Just tell me if you don't feel good, okay?" He asks, concern now seeping into his voice slightly but again, it goes right over your head.

You nod your head and feel your eyelids become heavy. Guess the adrenaline only lasts while your friends are there to keep fueling it.

By the time the taxi stops and Woozi pays, you're about ready to fall fast asleep.

"Just a bit longer, (y/n)." He says and tugs you out of the taxi before closing the door and wrapping his arm around you waist again.

"I really don't want the other guys to see me." You suddenly spit out and Woozi walk falters ever so slightly.

"I wouldn't bring you back to the dorm." He explains, "(y/f/n) lives closer to your place anyway."

You gasp, "You know (y/f/n)?" You ask, shocked in your drunken state.

"We've met a few times and she called me tonight to come and pick you up." He explains.

"Why would she call you?" You wonder, "I was fine. We were all fine."

Woozi sees the tiny opening in the conversation and dives straight for it, too curious to be stopped. "Well, she said you were getting emotional."

You place a hand over your chest, "I was? No, I wasn't. I was just explaining how I feel bad because my boyfriend and his friends like to drink but I always end up being the sober one. And then my one friend had to mention games and then it only reminded me how my boyfriend - his name's Woozi by the way - my boyfriend always has to drink for me if we play games and how terrible I feel about it because he has to drink twice as much." You inhale dramatically after rushing the last bit as your breath ran out with it.

Woozi stays silent and internalizes your words. In all honesty, your soberness never bothered him. He didn't mind drinking for you since he had a pretty good tolerance and drinking for you allowed him to get to an enjoyable buzz quicker than if he was drinking for just himself. And again because of his tolerance, he never minded that you were sober. He was always essentially sober when his friends drank so it was nice to have you around as another sober person. Plus he knew you detested the feeling you got when you drank so he respected that and never tried to get you to drink.

"Heyyyyyy." You point to your front door, "This is the same number as my place! Has your place always been the same number as mine?" You ask, turning towards him with wide curious eyes.

Quickly unlocking your front door, he chuckles, "No, this is your place." He says and opens the door before you go bounding inside.

"Woozi! Look!" You exclaim, gesturing to your couch, "It's my COUCH! I sat right here while you and all your friends drank that one time." You plop onto the couch and groan while squeezing your eyes shut, "And I was the only sober one that time too."  

Closing the front door, all Woozi can do is shake his head and chuckle at your current state.

-the next morning-

Rolling out of bed, a low throbbing in your head makes you groan. Stumbling towards the kitchen, your mind replays hazy dream like memories of you going over to (y/f/n)'s place, deciding to throw in the towel and drink, and drink some more, then Woozi showed up and brought you home where you think you screamed something about your couch before talking about being sober.

"You're awake." Woozi states the obvious as he stands next to the coffee maker, "I was just about to come and wake you up."

You give him a half smile, the most you can muster with your headache raging, "My head is killing me, do I have any painkillers or something?"

Woozi chuckles and points to the dining table where a large glass of water sits next to a napkin with two painkillers. "Way ahead of you. And drink the whole glass. It'll help."

You nod and pop the pills into your mouth before washing them down with the entire glass of water.

"Did I really drink that much last night?" You wonder and head into the kitchen to refill the glass.

"I don't really know how much you drank." Woozi admits while pouring out his coffee, "But yeah, I would guess it was a lot."

Leaning back against the counter, you let your head fall forward in dismay.

"Do you remember it?" Woozi asks, copying your position opposite of you.

You nod slowly, "It's foggy but I remember pretty much all of it, yeah."

"You want to talk about it?" He offers a small smile.

"Don't you have to get to work?" You wonder, looking over at the clock in concern.

Woozi shrugs his shoulders, "Work can wait for a little. Plus I don't technically have to be in for a few hours."

You sigh and purse your lips, "Why was I talking about being sober?" You ask, still curious as to why the word 'sober' kept appearing in your memories.

"Well, you kind of get emotional when your drunk, apparently. And last night, you kept ranting about how bad you felt that you are always the only one who's sober when we get together with my friends." Woozi fills you in and your face drops in embarrassment.

"Oh fuck me." You groan and rub your hands over your face. "Oh, god, that's, oh god."

Woozi walks up to you and pulls your hands away from your face, "You know it doesn't bother me right?"

Looking at him, you ask, "Being an emotional drunk or being the only one who doesn't drink?"

A light smile touches his lips before he answers, "Both. But I'm mostly talking about you being sober while my friends and I drink."

"Really?" You question him, "Are you sure it doesn't bother you?"

"Of course not." Woozi says, gripping your hands a little tighter.

"Even when they make you drink for me when we play games?" You ask, scrunching your lips together.

"Even when they make me drink for you." He repeats your words with a light tone, "It doesn't bother me in the slightest. In fact, sometimes I enjoy those times."

"You- why?" You stutter, curious.

"Because of my tolerance, on a normal night I can barely get a buzz enough to tolerate the others but on game nights, when I drink for you, I reach that comfortable buzz faster." He explains, "And then Dokyeom, Hoshi, and Dino become ten times funnier."

He chuckles and you try to control a smile by lowering your head down but a little giggle comes out anyway.

"But I already talked to the guys." Woozi continues which brings your head up to meet his gaze. "I asked them to quit it with the 'if you're playing a drinking game, you need to be drinking alcohol' rule. They said fine so when we play, you can sip whatever drink you want to."

"Why?" You ask, feeling gratitude to Woozi but also some confusion as to why he would do that.

"Cause I was starting to sense that it wasn't sitting right with you that I was drinking for you." He tells you, "Yes, I picked up on that. I'm your boyfriend, I could read you after like six months of dating."

"Damn, I guess I gotta get better at hiding my thoughts then." You joke and Woozi rolls his eyes.

"Good luck." He offers encouragement with a touch of sarcasm and you stick your tongue out at him.

But Woozi quickly wipes the scowl away with a soft kiss to your lips.

"Thank you for talking to the guys. You really didn't have to." You tell him with a grateful smile.

"I kind of had to. They really were being pushy with the whole thing." He says, matter-of-factly. "Hey, can I ask why you drank yesterday in the first place?" He wonders, wrapping your arms around his waist before placing his around your waist.

You shrug, "I guess I was kind of tired of being the sober one so I just grabbed a drink and drank it."

"But you hate how alcohol makes you feel." He reasons.

"I do. But I just was feeling so guilty about possibly being a downer cause I don't drink that I guess, I just didn't care last night." You explain and rest your head on his chest/shoulder. "And I don't think I'll do it again. I really hated the feeling. And my body got so red, I swear it looked like I was sunburnt."

"Ah, more like you had just belly flopped into a pool." Woozi corrects your simile and you shoot a look up at him.

"What?" He counters your look, "Someone had to get you into your pajamas and you were in no state to do it yourself."

You bury your face into his neck as a blush blooms on your cheeks.

Woozi laughs and hugs you closer, "It's okay, you were an adorable drunk. And by the way," He shuffles the two over to where you can see the living room and he points to the couch while laughing, "That is indeed your couch."

#kpop #kpop imagine #seventeen #seventeen imagine #seventeen woozi imagine #seventeen jihoon imagine #woozi imagine #jihoon imagine #woozi #lee jihoon imagine #lee jihoon #seventeen woozi #seventeen jihoon #writer-k-pop

[writeforfandoms]

Shake, Rattle and Roll epilogue

My masterlist

Okay folks. This is later than I intended but uh life kicked me around a bit. Sorry. 

Also. Once you’ve read it. There is a possibility that I could do a sequel for this, if there’s interest. I know I left things unsolved (the actual original murder for one) and I know what happened and how and why, but there wasn’t a clean space to add it in, because life doesn’t always work that way. SO if you wanna know more, let me know! My ask box is always open to y’all. Also lmk if you want more because honestly? I could definitely be persuaded to write more. This is fun. 

Summary: A little bit of cleanup. Some sleep. Some coffee. Things will look better in the morning.

Warnings: Just swearing for this one, nothing terrible.

Tags: @fandom-blackhole @pedrocentric @sarahjkl82-blog @giizhkens-cedar 

--

It didn’t take longer than an hour to get back to your apartment, all told. The three of you hadn’t stuck around long after making sure Inumon and Mikken were both dead. Cee had been a trooper, keeping up with you and not complaining once on the trip. You splurged for a private ride for a few reasons, one of which was that you simply really did not want to bother with public transit at this hour. It was late, later than you usually ventured out, and between the hour and the leftover adrenaline, you were a bit twitchy. Ezra, on the other hand, seemed cool as a cucumber. 

But once the three of you were in your apartment, you were half-way to collapsing, and Cee looked like she was hanging on by a thread.

“Sleep first,” you decided. “Planning tomorrow.” You pointed Cee sternly to the couch before you left to grab extra blankets and pillows for her.

“You sure it’s okay for me to stay the night?” Cee asked, sounding close to her age for the first time all night.

“I insist,” you told her firmly, handing her two pillows. “I’ve got more blankets if you need them, and you can borrow some clothes if you don’t want to sleep in those.”

“I’m okay for tonight,” Cee told you after a momentary pause. “Thank you.”

“Here.” You stepped into the kitchenette to grab her a glass of water. “Drink before bed or you’ll probably be dehydrated in the morning.”

Cee’s lips twitched but she took the glass. Probably just to appease you, but whatever, you’d take it. 

“I can find my own accommodations for the night,” Ezra offered.

“No, I’ve got a cot you can use,” you offered. “It’s not the most comfortable thing, but it’ll do.”

“It’ll do, indeed,” Ezra mused. “Very gracious of you.” 

You waved his thanks off, going back to the closet to grab the cot, and more pillows and blankets. Fortunately you were well stocked on those. Ezra helped, taking the cot from you and setting it up as you directed him. 

“Planning tomorrow,” you said again, looking between the two of them. Cee was already curled up under a blanket on the couch. “Sleep now, hopefully. When we’re all less tired.” 

“You’d do well to take your own advice, dove,” Ezra advised, glancing over at you from setting up the cot. “Get some water and sleep.”

You shot him a look, a little exasperated but mostly amused. You hesitated for a few moments, though. Did you bring up the kiss? Wait for him to bring it up? Then you made a face at yourself for acting like a kid with a crush and headed for your bedroom, more than ready to collapse. Everything would keep until tomorrow, of that you were certain. 

Despite being unused to having company, you fell asleep quickly and slept soundly. You woke to the smell of coffee, and rolled out of bed still a bit bleary. 

Cee and Ezra were both already awake. Cee was sitting on the couch cross-legged, while Ezra lounged against the counter. You looked at both of them briefly and then made for the coffee, hip-checking Ezra out of your way. 

“Good morning to you too, dove,” Ezra said, bright and amused.

“Coffee first,” you grumbled, getting down a mug. Coffee always came first.

“Coffee gremlin,” Cee said knowingly.

“The fuck, kid?” You half-turned to shoot her a betrayed look, to which she shot you a bright smile. Okay. Fine. Kid could make fun of you if she smiled like that. Fuck. You doctored your coffee how you liked it quickly, not bothering to move from where you were still right next to Ezra. He didn’t seem to mind, and it was your place, he could move if he wasn’t comfortable.

“So,” Cee started, looking at you briefly before suddenly finding the coffee table in front of her fascinating. “What now?”

You let out a breath, not quite a sigh. “What do you want? First and foremost.”

Cee considered for a few moments, letting the silence stretch. “I want to go to school.” Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper.

“Okay,” you agreed easily, tamping down your anger. Damon was dead, your anger would do you no good. “School. That can be arranged.”

Her head popped up and she stared at you, painfully hopeful. “Seriously?”

“‘Course. I’ll work it out. I know some people.” You smiled at her, hoping you hid your pain well enough. This poor kid. She clearly wasn’t used to people standing in her corner. New mantra for the day: Damon’s already dead, don’t be mad at him. 

“I reckon I shall have to venture on to find my next job, as this one didn’t pan out,” Ezra said, though he was watching you. 

You snorted softly at that. “I might know a few people for that, too,” you admitted before you took a large sip of coffee. “I’ve made a few contacts over the years.”

Ezra blinked at you, momentarily stunned silent. Probably not used to people offering help, rather than bartering. Clear sign he’d spent too long on the Green Moon. 

“Right,” you muttered, shifting away from the counter and starting to pace, because you felt better thinking while moving, and this required some thinking. “Cee, we’re gonna have to go get some of your things. I’m assuming you have things you’d like to keep that aren’t currently with you?”

Cee nodded, hair bobbing around her until she pushed it behind her ears.

“Okay. That’s the top of the list. I can always send out a few feelers now, probably won’t hear back from anyone for a few hours at least. We should try to move quickly, I have no idea when that house will be discovered, or people will be noted as missing.” You took another sip of coffee, your mind whirring back to life. 

You were abruptly stopped in the middle of one of your circuits, Ezra grabbing you firmly. You squeaked and managed not to slosh coffee all over the two of you, even as he grinned.

“A more generous and selfless soul I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting,” he hummed, voice low, eyes bright. “You are a rare one indeed, dove.”

You blinked at him, flabbergasted, not quite sure how to respond to that. Which, of course, he took advantage of, and kissed you again. Your brain blanked out just as quickly as it had woken up. 

“As cute as you two are,” Cee interrupted after seconds? Minutes? Who the hell kept track of time anymore anyway. “There’s something I need to show you.”

You pulled back from Ezra with some reluctance and pointed a finger at him. “We’re revisiting this topic later.”

“Yes ma’am.” Ezra’s lips curled in a devious, smug smile. 

You swallowed hard and turned to Cee, watching as she dug something out of her pocket. She unfolded it on the coffee table, looking suddenly nervous. You drifted closer to look.

It was a map. A map of the Green Moon, if you weren’t mistaken. A map of the Green Moon with coordinates and a circled area. 

“Dad didn’t have the only copy of the map,” Cee told you, looking between you and Ezra. “I have one too.” 

Time stood still. You were frozen. You didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Just stared at the map. And then, slowly, you looked at Ezra. The look on his face scared you, just a little. He looked… well, he looked like a prospector presented with a map to possibly the biggest haul of aurelac ever seen. Hungry and greedy and a little awestruck. 

“Tomorrow,” you decided, shaking your head and putting your hand flat over the map, breaking the spell on the room. “That is now a tomorrow problem. We have more immediate problems to figure out first.” You shot Ezra a look that just dared him to disagree with you. But he simply nodded, leaning back, unwilling to argue over it. 

Good. You had enough problems for today that you needed to tackle. One last deep breath, and you left the two of them so you could start sending out messages. Today problems first. You could tackle the map problem tomorrow. Or later, if you could manage it. For today, Cee was your priority.

#shake rattle and roll #ezra x reader #ezra prospect x reader #clue!au

[petri808]

Pranks Are So Revealing Sometimes…

@itafushiweek One bed prompt

After everything had finally settled and damages were assessed to Tokyo jujutsu high following the Kamo incident, the faculty decided it was time for a full renovation. They would fix the damaged areas but also update other undamaged parts. Including the dorms according to their teacher. The students were given a schedule of when each of their rooms would be worked on and given boxes to pack their belongings for temporary storage.

“Don’t worry,” Gojo grinned. “Shouldn’t take more than a day or two per room.”

“Yeah, okay,” Megumi stared back up at his teacher after reading the information. “But where are we supposed to sleep if our room is being renovated?”

“Oh, well since the unoccupied rooms will also be renovated during this process…” the man tapped his chin. “Got it! You bunk with Yuuji, then switch when it’s his rooms turn.”

“Cool! A sleepover!” Yuuji pumped his fists in the air. “We can hang out and watch movies and eat junk food and just crash from a food coma.”

Megumi swallowed thickly with a groan. “I’d rather you give me your credit card,” directing his comment to Gojo, “so I can get a hotel room.”

“No, can do buddy. Come on, it won’t be that bad.”

Yuuji threw an arm over Megumi’s. “It’ll be fine,” his brilliant smile causing the man’s cheeks to redden. “Movies and food, we’ll have fun.”

Megumi looked away and crossed his arms over his chest. “Ugh! Fine!”

“Good.” Gojo patted his student on the shoulder. “Now that’s settled, get packing young Megumi. Tomorrow we’ll be starting with your room.”

With Yuuji’s help, it didn’t take long for Megumi to pack up his belongings. There really wasn’t much, fitting everything into 3 medium sized boxes. Mostly clothes, some books, and minor items. He packed a bag with just enough to be displaced a couple of days, and if the renovations took longer, he could probably just borrow clothes from Yuuji. They were roughly the same size anyway. The boxes were then taken to Yuuji’s room and stacked in a corner out of the way.

But the full toll of the situation didn’t really hit Megumi until the morning of the renovations. He was awoken around 7 am by Gojo, letting him know the construction workers would be there in 15 minutes. Great. So, he dragged himself out of bed and walked into Yuuji’s room planning to get a couple more hours of sleep. It should be fine considering Yuuji rarely got up early on a day off.

The problem was— ‘Only one bed…’ Megumi groaned internally as he swiped his hand down his face. Duh! How could he have missed this detail?! And there was no way to fit a second bed in the room since they were only designed for single occupancy.

“Ugh…” Megumi shuffled back out of the room in irritation. Guess he’ll just go get breakfast and figure out what to do next!

Look, he didn’t have a problem sharing a bed with another person. It’s just sleeping on a bed instead of the hardwood floor, what’s the issue with that? If it was anyone else, Nobara, Toge, Maki, Yuta, whatever— no problem. The PROBLEM is it’s Yuuji. Maybe one of them will let him stay with them? Megumi put his head down on the kitchen table with his arms over his head in frustration. No… that would be weird to ask. Gojo already made all the arrangements between everyone, so if he suddenly had an issue with it, they might find that suspicious and he really didn’t need them asking questions, or worse teasing him about it.

He could hear it all too. What’s wrong with Yuuji? You worried something might happen? Too afraid to confront your feelings. Wink, wink. Aww that’s so cute you’re embarrassed. But Yuuji’s a good catch. Yada, Yada. Maki’s monotone, “just man up” tone was not something Megumi wanted to hear. ‘It’s just a night or two… no big deal. He’ll sleep on one side; I’ll sleep on the other. What could go wrong?’

“Morning!”

Megumi’s body immediately went stiff at the sound of Yuuji voice. Damn guy was like a cat this morning, he never heard him come in! Or did he just miss it because he was too wrapped up in his mind?

“Yeah… morning,” Megumi responded as he sat up in his chair and pretended everything was fine. “Sorry, I didn’t make coffee or anything yet.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I can make breakfast. Want some?” Yuuji responded in his chipper way.

“Sure, since you’re offering.”

“I see they started working on your room. That’s what woke me up.”

“Huh? Oh yeah, That’s why I’m up too. Gojo kicked me out at 7.”

“Oh, if you were tired, you could’ve just gone back to sleep in my room.”

“Nah. I’m fine.”

“You still look tired.”

“I’m fine.”

“If you say so,” Yuuji placed a plate of food in front of his friend, then sat down across from him with his own. “So, got any plans for today?”

“Not really.”

“I was thinking of grabbing some snacks from the store for tonight.”

“Something happening tonight?”

“Movie night! Remember?”

“You were serious about that?!”

“Of course! We rarely have time to relax, so this is a perfect opportunity.”

“Well, since I’m stuck in your room… what movie are you picking?”

“You can choose. I don’t really care. How about I’m in charge of snacks and you grab the movies.”

“Fine. I’ll dig something up.”

The pair part ways for the rest of the day. Megumi felt it best to keep himself occupied so he wouldn’t think about that night. So, after breakfast he got some training in with Yuta and Maki who between the two really kept him on his toes. The construction work on his room sounded a lot more extensive than Gojo had relayed based on all the noise coming from within. Someone had placed a “do not enter” sign on the door, and so when Megumi walked past it, he didn’t bother peeking. By the time he returned from shopping around 5pm, it was silent. ‘Guess they’re done for the day.’ But since the sign was still up, it wasn’t finished. ‘Ugh, it better be done by tomorrow night.’

“Hey, Megumi!”

Megumi froze in place. Damn it with Yuuji sneaking up on him! He turned around. “Yeah?”

“I got food!” Yuuji held up two plastic bags stuffed full. “Dinner, snacks, drinks. Did you grab the movies?”

Megumi pulled three DVD cases out of his shopping bag and showed it to his friend. Three movies would kill about six hours, which meant sleeping right after they were finished, equaled less dead time to worry about.

“Sweet! Let’s get started!”

The moment of dread was upon Megumi the instant he walked into Yuuji’s room and laid eyes on that single bed. And as the dorm mate puttered around oblivious to his nervousness, he just watched quietly as the man plopped the bags onto the bed and grabbed a laptop from the desk. This was it, no turning back now.

“Why are you just standing there?” Yuuji questioned with laughter in his tone and patted the bed. “Come on, before the food gets cold.”

Megumi rolled his eyes as if nothing was wrong, but his heartbeat picked up the pace with each step towards the bed. He should be happy that Yuuji was so oblivious to emotions, and yet a part of him was annoyed… maybe disappointed… Megumi quickly shut those thoughts down as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“So, just to get it out of the way. How is this gonna work? Like which side do I sleep on?” Megumi questioned.

Yuuji stopped fusing with a food container and looked over. “Oh, hmm, doesn’t matter to me. I can sleep on either side.”

Well since he was already on one side. “I’ll just take this side I’m on then.”

Yuuji gave him a thumbs up. “Pass me the first movie.”

The first movie… all the movies he’d chosen were just action types. Megumi wanted something with as little romance as possible and knew Yuuji didn’t mind action or horror. Frankly, he thought it was funny his friend still loved horror after becoming a jujutsu sorcerer. Don’t they see enough of it in real life? Between the movies and the eating, he was pleasantly surprised to find that Yuuji became so engrossed in what was on the screen, it helped his anxieties stay lowered.

Megumi had taken up a position with his back against the wall sitting upright, and legs stretched out in front of him, while Yuuji was next to him with about a foot of space between them. Mid-way through the third movie, Megumi was genuinely paying attention since he’d never seen it before, when he felt a pressure against his shoulder. His eyes flared, cheeks heated up, and adrenaline spiked his heart rate. Yuuji had fallen asleep against his shoulder. No kidding this guy could fall asleep anywhere! Versus him who was too wide awake now to even think about it.

The last thing he wanted to do was awaken the sleeping man and make things even more awkward. So, Megumi tried to gently push his friend away to simply rest against the wall. His first several tries failed, but on the fourth, success… briefly.

“Mmm,” Yuuji stirred without waking and shifted on his own to curl up in Megumi’s lap instead!

‘Fuck, my life!’ Megumi screamed in his head. Things just went from bad to a disaster!

Again, Megumi tried to shift the man away, but every time he tried Yuuji would whine.

“Stop moving…” Yuuji mumbled and wrapped his arms around Megumi’s waist, snuggling his face deeper into the man’s leg.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Megumi gritted out in a muffled anger. By now, his whole body felt like it’d been stuck in a furnace and was being roasted alive. Ugh! Yuuji had turned into a damn octopus clinging to its meal! And yet… Megumi had to admit the man was cute as he slept. Geez, he even smiled in his sleep!

Not much he could really do, Megumi exhaled in defeat. So, he did his best to turn off the laptop screen using his foot and shift it close enough to reach. He then grabbed it and placed it onto the nightstand next to the bed, leaving them in a darkened room with only the gentle breathing of Yuuji as any sound. Okay, fine! Megumi counseled himself. Just ignore the fact there’s someone attached to you and try to get some sleep. The faster he went to sleep, the faster the nightmare would end. So, he shifted his body to lie down, then turned over onto his side hoping Yuuji would also readjust.

And the man did, just not in a way Megumi wanted. Yuuji simply snuggled up to his back and weaved an arm around his torso like he was one of those giant stuffed animals you win at a fair! He pushed the arm away, but it sprang back into place.

Megumi screamed in his head. He was so tired… ‘just ignore it, ignore it, ignore it…’

The sound of birds chirping caused Megumi to rouse the next morning. Perfect, his torture was over, it was time to get up— ‘Why was the pillow so hard—’ his eyes opened in a panic as his hand felt the unmistakable sensation of muscle beneath clothing. Without moving an inch only his eyes shifted over and saw the outline of Yuuji’s body lying on his back and he was curled up against his side! ‘Oh, fuck!’

Fight or flight kicked into overdrive as Megumi sprang from the bed like a cat and bolted out of the room. Every nerve ending along his skin was on fire and his mind freaking out, praying Yuuji had slept through it all. ‘This is gonna be so awkward if— What the?!’

As soon as he made it out of the room, Megumi almost ran right smack into Gojo. The man had one hand on Megumi’s bedroom door and the other carried a cursed doll, like the one Yuuji had trained with to practice energy control. “What is that for?”

Realizing he was busted, Gojo slipped the doll behind his back. “Nothing. I was just gonna check on the progress.”

“Uh-huh…” Megumi’s eyebrow raised, instantly suspicious. “Well, let’s just check,” he opened the door himself and walked in. “What’s going on?!” He whipped around. “Are they finished?” Because his room looked exactly like he’d left it the morning before. And he meant exactly!

“Really?!” Gojo pretended to be surprised. “That was quick! Looks like you can move back in. Well, see you at breakfast.”

Gojo turned to leave but Megumi grabbed his shoulder.

“Oi! What the hell?! There was no construction was there you prick?!”

“Nonsense! They must’ve finished yesterday.”

Megumi narrowed a menacing glare at the teacher. “That damn doll was the one making all the noise, wasn’t it?”

“Um… no…”

“And you were about to plant it for a second day!”

“Of course, not! I’m just carrying it around…”

“You’re such a shit liar!”

“Careful Megumi, might wanna keep your voice down lest wake up Yuuji.”

“What do I care if he wakes up now?”

“He’ll find you missing and the bed empty and be sad.” Gojo grinned defiantly then took off in a sprint, cackling like a mad man down the hall.

Bastard pranked him! Megumi screamed as he took off after the man. “I’M GONNA KILL YOU!”

#itafushi week #itafushi #itafushi fan fiction #itafushi fan fic #itadori yuuji #megumi fushiguro #satoru gojo #one bed prompt #fushita

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Summer Nights (2)

A/N: Is that... is that...? The unbridled enthusiasm I’m hearing? Or are you trying to reach me with torches and pitchforks for being so untrustworthy? Assuming the first option.

Anyway -- Yes, as I promised, this is the second part of the Summer Nights which you would hopefully enjoy. Waiting for your feedback. It’s the INDEX if you need a refresher.

ALSO, I give a lot of credit to @drawlfoy and @bored-and-botheredwho helped me with editing this chapter and steamed off my emotional breakdown related to my writing (lmao). I love you so much gals and a big THANK U once more!!!

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: coarse language; alcohol; Narcissa turning into a shitty-mother (lol)

Tags: @war-sword @paradigmax @winnsmills @idkatee@bforbroadway @okaydraco

The next thing Draco knew, he was being woken up with a massive hangover in the snuggly, way-too-comfortable bed by the high-pitched squeal of his mother.

"You, darling, made a lot of trouble for yourself yesterday," Narcissa admonished her son, a glacial cool look on her face. Entering Draco's hotel apartment, she walked over to the window and opened the drapes with one swift movement, splashing an annoyed Draco with light. He groaned, not yet daring to complain due to his mother's livid mood, to say the least.

"You have no idea of what happened yesterday, do you?"

"Yyy-" was the only sound he could make. God, where to the fuck was he? He hadn't been this plastered in forever.

"Of course you don't." Narcissa shook her head and laughed nervously, although she made it plainly obvious there was nothing humorous about the situation. "You blacked out so hard in that sleazy bar there is no way you can recall anything from yesterday. Look at you -- you are squinting at me like I'm the sun!"

Draco nervously ran his finders through his disheveled hair. He was definitely not in the right mind to provoke the conflict. "I left you the note at the reception," he informed her, trying to slickly get out of the unenviable conversation. "Told the receptionist to hand it over."

Contrary to his mother's accusatory ascertainment, he actually had some glimpses of the previous night (or should he say an all-night rave?). There were for sure drinks -- a lot of drinks; a variety of kinds he didn't recognize from the magical world but still guzzled delightfully. The second recollection was dancing --which wasn't his intention, but with some luck of his -- got invited by some hot-looking chicks from across the table. And yes, he definitely remembers the swaying and the rhythmical moving of the hips along with some cheesy muggle vibes mixed with the smell of booze and weed. Maybe he even hooked up with one of the girls? The last thing he recollects before passing out, almost like through a haze, was seeing Narcissa's furious face screaming something incoherent at him. Overall, that's his all night wrapped in one.

"Do you think the mere note 'I will be fine' was going to calm down my shattered nerves? Draco Lucius Malfoy, I swear to our dear ancestors, I did not raise you to act so irresponsibly." She waved the finger at him warningly. “We come from rich history. You are the descendant from a line of successful forefathers who put their effort into building up our reputation. Do you think Lucius would approve of such unrestrained behavior? I’ve been already hearing of letting you be too careless. Is tha-"

"Mother, could we skip the lecture?" Draco snapped angrily, try as he might to suppress it. "I've heard it too many times. All I’m trying to have is a peaceful life. Without the prying eyes of the media and the meddling of my family..."

"And all I’m trying to have is an integrated, happy family to offer you support and love.” Draco opened his mouth to cut her in, but she shushed him with a wave, clearly suggesting 'Don’t even get me started’ meaning. “I’ve been- been trying  to get a job, going through the infelicitous job interviews and looking for a solution to help our household through the post-war crisis. Have you shown any interest in that? Any?"

"But mo-"

"The last thing I want to have on my mind is dealing with your ignorant, boyish transitional stages, and let me tell you -- you do not make it any easier for me," she said without taking a breath. She exhaled slowly and continued, this time forcing a softer tone. "I ask you one thing for this summer. Let it be an enjoyable time without unnecessary conflicts. We have come to the beautiful country as France. Let's make a good thing out of it."

Draco, who was already wide awake by the buzz of adrenaline, looked at her with a serious expression. Scanning her face made him suddenly realize how hard must it have been for her to bear everything, and seeing the bags of tiredness under her beautiful, hazel eyes stopped him from retorting. "Mother, no matter what happens, I'll always support you. Remember that."

Narcissa smiled. “Oh. I know, honey, I know.” This time she lowered her voice by two octaves, slowly sitting at the edge of the bed. “It’s just… people have been gossiping behind our backs lately, partly throwing the blame at us. All I’m trying to do is protect us from those tormentors. But your binge drinking is not making the deadlock any better, and it drives me mad.” She chortled a little bit and patted Draco’s palm. “So, until the rumors die down, all we can do is raise our chins high.” Narcissa ended, her voice encouraging yet plaintive.

The last thing Draco liked is seeing his mother on the verge of emotional exhaustion, like in this moment. He felt an instant surge of sympathy, so he quickly found himself locking Narcissa in the supportive embrace. She responded to the gesture by wrapping her arms around her son’s neck and stroking his cheek delicately with the back of her hand, just like in the old times. Both of them yearningly wished to come back to those years of frivolity.

"I promise I'll try to be better," Draco said with certainty. Seeing Narcissa’s eyes light up in gratefulness and the smiley dimples form on her features, he assured himself it was the right thing to say at that mother-son moment.

“How could I be so lucky to have such a wise boy,” she muttered proudly, kissing Draco at the top of his head. “But perhaps you should not restrain yourself too much during the holiday. I give you the partial alibi per se. Just keep it under control.”

Smiling, Narcissa got up, straightening up her impeccable posture as in the habit of the high-status woman. For the first time in that day, Draco noticed how elegantly she was dressed up: the black, partly lacy dress stopping at the level of her knees; the shiny-white pearl jewelry perfectly matching her entire outfit; dark yet not defiant high-heels; andhair fixed up in the tight bun. In Draco’s opinion, she looked too prim...even for herself.

"Mother, are you heading somewhere?" he asked curiously.

“Well…” she started, blushing. “I’m going to see my old friend in the coffee shop. I haven’t been there for ages, so it’s one of the chances to meet up with them. Hopefully, you are going to take care of yourself for a few days.” 

"Days?" he asked, shocked.

“You didn’t expect me to travel from town to town, did you?” she laughed lightly. “Bordeaux is quite a route to overcome. So I might be settling there for a few nights. Do you mind it, darling?”

Was he positive about the information? Did he mind? Partly yes. He didn’t imagine the prospect of wandering around the alleys of France on his own, especially on the first day of being there. But from the other side, seeing the joy painted on his mother’s face as she told him about the planned get-together made him feel less skeptical. Plus, getting rid of the extreme supervision for a few days wouldn’t be such a disaster as well.

As he calculated now, the ratio about the idea was 90% pro and 10% against.

"Of course not," he said simply, smiling at his mother.

"I knew you would understand." The crease of uncertainty on her forehead disappeared, and she let out a sigh of relief. "Meanwhile... I have already booked you the brunch downstairs but seeing as you are not in the wholesome state, I might order a delive-"

"Don't..." Draco opposed, rising from the bed and throwing the nearest shirt he could find over his head. "I'll come down. Some fresh air may be a cure for a hangover. Oh, and speaking of hangovers -- do you happen to have an anti-hangover potion?"

Narcissa let out a quiet chuckle and clapped her hands, seemingly satisfied with herself. Her tranquil gaze landed on the cupboard. "As a matter of self-preservation, yes, I do. Try searching inside the bedside cabinet."

He thanked her and then they talked with each other a little bit longer until Narcissa took the pocket watch out of her handy purse, noted the time ("Merlin's Beard, I am so tardy! I'm going to be alone on the platform if I stay here a minute longer!), and –a little startled with her inadvertency – hurriedly declared she should get going ("I really should get going Draco!”). Pecking her son twice on the cheeks as a farewell, she rushed towards the door and, for the last time, turned around to blow a brief motherly goodbye kiss. She left in such a hurry that the only sign indicating her presence in the room a few seconds ago was her familiar perfume lingering about in the air.

Draco gathered his clothes, and after half an hour of very difficult preparations while dealing with the consequences of yesterday's actions -- because the potion finally hits after two to three hours -- he found himself in front of the hotel's restaurant. As he walked in, he had to admit the room enchanted him with its lovely atmosphere, which brought back the memories of his first Hogwart's magical feast as an eleven-year-old boy.

With the large windows allowing plenty of light in, the entire space was in the classical style. The whole floor was clad with marble tiles in the white-like color; the walls were purely white and, apparently, someone must have put a lot of effort not to let a single dust spot appear in there; the ceiling was created in the concept of the sky resemblance making an impression of the real clouds hovering over heads. Three enormous chandeliers made a very good fit with carved wooden tables and similarly-looking chairs.

"Sir, would you like to make an order?" The decently looking waitress walked over to his table, with a white apron around her waist and green, deep eyes staring at him. "I'm Laura, by the way. I'll be serving you today."

He nodded, not really paying much attention to her primitive attempts of having a chit-chat. Cursorily glancing at the menu, he decided on having a french bagel with melted cheese and a coffee which was a specialty of the house as was written in the recommendations. The waitress scribbled something sloppily in her notes, smiled briefly, and then strode away.

The restaurant was almost fully emptied, and the only things heard in the background were a heated discussion of the couple beside the table and a composition of french, old songs prepared specifically for the guests.

Draco let out a small sigh of boredom, thinking yet again about the scenery of today. The only ideas that crossed his mind were either lounging in his stuffy hotel room or finding another hang-out spot to drown his sorrows.

After the War, he had found out it was pretty easier not to give in to any of the memories, blurring them out with the support of Scotch as a coping mechanism. Pansy and Daphne, his childhood friends, had tried to talk him out of it, kindly offering some tenderness and a chance for a conversation. But he had eventually stopped caring about any of that bullshit anymore.

That's why perhaps he'd just--

"Hi!" said a cheerful voice behind him, making him jump slightly at his seat with surprise. At first, he thought it was a mistake; that he must have been deemed as someone else considering he didn't know anyone around, so was in the opposite way. Turning around, however, made him realize it wasn't entirely the truth. "Do you remember me?"

"Hello." Of course, he remembered her. It was the receptionist from the previous day, whose name he didn't bother to memorize. Although he planned on avoiding potential candidates for a talk today, he said truthfully, "Yes, I do. You work here, right?"

"Yeah," she confirmed, smiling. "Can I join?"

For a moment, his sluggish brain did not process what she was asking about, and that made him frown. The girl probably comprehended what it was about because she explained, reading his confused expression. "...the table".

"Oh," he said, feeling more than embarrassed for his dumb reaction. "Yeah, help yourself."

"Thanks," she mumbled, pulling out the chair to make some room for herself. "Tough night, huh?"

The inquiry made him suddenly realize she must have witnessed the whole scene yesterday -- him asking her for a favor, Narcissa drilling her out for any clues about his disappearance, his arrogant attitude, and scurrility as he spoke to her. For sure, if she were smart enough, she would deduce what the situation was about.

He couldn't help it, but a wave of shame pierced through his body, and his stomach rolled slightly.

"A little," he answered minimizing a dimension of the spree, almost like a lie, and then he shook his head. "Listen, sorry about yesterday. I might have been...rude."

A small smile of courtesy formed on her lips. "I presumed you were a little off. Happens..." she said tentatively, gripping both of her hands together. "Oh, and about yesterday -- you lost this at the lobby." She took his wand out, and Draco's stomach made a second roll, the heartbeat hastening like a speed of light. He quickly tried to bring his face to the natural expression, but the girl had noticed that, and curiosity filled her eyes. "I thought I should give that back. In case it was valuable or something."

Fucking great... How was he supposed to elucidate that?

His throat felt so dry he couldn't let out a word of excuse. The moment was so mortifying to him he just reached for the familiar wand and nodded politely in gratefulness.

"Mhm..." Draco hummed, barely audible and momentarily deflated. "It's just... Something I've been training with..."

What the fuck is that supposed to mean, dolt?!

"Oh," the girl unconsciously flipped her hair off the shoulders, probably trying to make sense of the information. Furrowing her brows, she put her hand under the chin. "Are you a magician?"

"Kind of..." he agreed, not happy about the reputation he had just created for himself, but at the same time satisfied he didn't have to make up more explanations.

Luckily for Draco, the uncomfortable pause was rescued by the arrival of the food -- thank Merlin -- and even though he hadn't been hungry at all, now he felt an unexpected appetite to eat up the awkwardness. The girl probably caught a hint it was about time to end an encounter because she grunted.

"Listen," the girl started, clearing her throat yet again. "I better get going. But..."

The next thing Draco knew was that she was reaching to her pocket again, this time taking out something similar to a quill, only without ink. He assumed it must some kind of muggle invention, only a mechanical-like version. The girl uncorked it and suggestively drew out her hand, clearly signifying he should bring his hand closer as well. He obediently did.

"France is a big city," she said, glancing at him and sounding serious. "If you ever needed someone to show you around, let me know."

Without any preamble, her soft, delicate fingers grasped his forearm (he made sure to give her the right one), and with a few scrawls on his skin, she looked at him merrily, blushing slightly, and then left a table.

He stared after her for a while, looking at her curls bouncing behind her back as she walked away at a slow, monotonic pace. After a few seconds, she disappeared out of his sight, letting him finally peek at the note she had left:

'Call me, Y/N,' and a nine-digit number attached.

XOXOXO

A/N: I know this part might have contained too little Draco x Reader momento, but I promise it’ll get better as a plot develops. Also -- is it only my impression, or is Narcissa as changeable as the weather in Germany lol.

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco x you #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fanfic #summer nights #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco Malfoy x oc #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #draco Malfoy x you #Harry potter imagine #draco Malfoy fanfic #hp #draco malfoy x muggle #my writing #draco x oc #draco

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Satisfied, Part 33

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Updating today instead of tomorrow so I can spend the whole day on the work I procrastinated :/

~~~

How did she end up staying at Wayne Manor for a week and a half? Deception. She’d never felt more betrayed than she did in that moment. And to think, she and Tim had been friends. 

She’d rolled her eyes when Wayne Manor came into view.

“I can go home, you know.”

“Says the person who got kidnapped on her way there,” responded Tim with a sigh. He paused at the gate as they waited for it to open. “Besides, your ankle’s messed up. You shouldn’t be walking.”

She groaned and tipped her head back against his arm so she could glare at him. “I’m fine.”

He had looked away for a moment, using the gate opening as an excuse, then he started walking. After a while, he hesitantly looked at her. “But I’m not! You got hurt because of me. Please, just... let me take care of you for a little bit.”

Her face burned. “Fine. I’ll stay until Halloween. Happy?”

He seemed to consider this, then shook his head. “But, bean, that’s tomorrow! At least stay here for proper treatment, then you can go.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I could get proper treatment without you.”

He had only sighed in response.

She bit the inside of her cheek. “Fine. Fine. I’ll stay until I’m healed.”

“Really?” He asked, his face full of hope.

She nodded.

And then, much to her horror, a smug smile stretched across his face. “No take backs! Sucker!”

Truly horrible. She’d never trust again.

~

Still, she'd be lying if she said she didn’t have a good time.

After ‘convincing’ (begging) them to go to her apartment and get her supplies she’d started working on the outfits for the steadily approaching Gala. She’d intended to do most of her embroidery while she was there, because it was calming and repetitive and she’d be able to relax with Tim... but then Dick had seen what she was doing and had nerded out with her about outfits and design. It turned out one person in their family did have a little bit of style, and she was ecstatic. Now she lazed on his way-too-comfortable bed and worked while babbling on about her designs. And he actually understood what she was saying. It was great.

And, when she wasn’t designing, she’d often be found drinking coffee with Tim (the Waynes had bought another machine for her after the first day’s... ‘incident’). They would lean against each other and drink in comfortable silence, which is exactly what everyone wants in the early morning. Who cares if it was three in the afternoon? With their sleep schedules it was practically like being awake at five in the morning anyways.

At other times she and Jason could be found together. This was less fun, because he was the one most pressed about her ankle. While everyone knew that her foot would probably be fine in a week’s time, he was the one to practically carry her everywhere like a damsel in distress. He’d learned to stop when she kicked him in the shin (with her bad leg, it was not a good time for either of them), but he was still extremely worried for her and not at all concerned with hiding it. Still, he made it up to her by sneaking her extra coffees (Dick had set a limit when he’d seen the way Tim and her binge-drank when with each other).

The only bad part was...

Her and Damian locked eyes across the table and they sent each other a glare. She didn’t even know why his presence irritated her to no end, didn’t know why her veins buzzed whenever he got too close; she only knew that she didn’t like it.

She didn’t act on it that much, surprisingly. She had no real reason to be angry with him, the slight rudeness he’d presented the day they’d met was perfectly justified. Marinette settled for the occasional snide comment at the table.

This only seemed to upset him more and more as time went on.

Finally, when her leg was healed (Jason had managed to convince her to stay an extra day to be sure), he’d grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her away from Tim before either of them could really react.

“What’s your problem?” She hissed as he pulled her along, struggling to not spill her coffee due to their brisk pace.

He dragged her into the dojo and crossed his arms over his chest. “Me? You’re the one who’s been rude the whole time you’ve been staying here!”

She couldn’t respond. He had a bit of a point. She settled for sending him a glare over the rim of her cup.

“What do you have against me?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Does it matter?”

“Yes! Obviously!”

“Maybe I just don’t like people.”

“You made friends with the Rogues!”

Oh. So that’s what this was about. She lowered her drink slightly. “Maybe I just don’t like you,” she corrected herself.

Damian scoffed and shook his head. “Whatever. You don’t want to answer? Fine. Fight me.”

Marinette felt like she had whiplash. He’d gone from being annoyed that she wasn’t being nice to him to wanting to fight in approximately half a second. Still, she had to admit, fighting him would probably be nice. Not only did she miss the adrenaline of a fight, but a tiny part of her hoped that her anger would dissipate if she gave him a punch or two.

She set down her drink. “Sure. Whatever.”

He looked a bit smug. They walked along the walls and pulled off equipment that they deemed necessary. Basically they both pulled on some grappling gloves and she added an ankle brace to make sure she didn’t instantly mess up her leg again.

After a few minutes of stretching they squared up to each other on the mat.

She grinned and raised her hands to her face. She didn’t actually know how good he was, but she wasn’t all that intent on going easy on him. They had a dojo, he had to have some kind of fighting expertise, that only made --.

Marinette was pulled from her thoughts as a punch came at her face. She dodged with ease and backed up a few steps, raising her guard properly. All she needed was to take her time to learn his fighting style.

She smiled as she dodged his attacks. He was getting angrier, sloppier, with every miss. His style was getting more and more obvious. Just a few more attacks and she would be completely sure --.

His fist came for her throat.

She had to do a backflip to avoid the blow.

His eyes widened.

She cursed mentally. She’d given up her one possible advantage: the high chances of him underestimating her.

Her element of surprise gone, she forced herself to go on the offense. She threw a short jab at him and raised her eyebrows at the almost practiced nature of his block, like he’d done this exact motion a million times.

Her lips twitched. Amateurs are usually the ones who choreograph their moves like that --.

Realization struck her just as his fist did, sending her back a few steps.

Her body moved on autopilot, sending a kick at his chest to get him away so she could recover. His hand locked on her foot and one of his legs swept hers out from under her. A curse slipped from between her lips as her back hit the mat, but it was nothing compared to her reaction when he dropped a bit of weight on the leg he held. Pain pulled a strangled sob from her throat and she thought her leg would shatter.

Her hand slammed the ground twice.

Damian stopped instantly at the motion a worried expression flickering across his features. Red Hood wasn’t lying, the reaction had been instantaneous in both of them. They’d both been drilled, both had the same cues. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

And, unfortunately, Damian wasn’t completely stupid. She saw confusion find its way across his face. And then shock. Denial. Understanding. Anger. And then acceptance.

He dropped onto the mat beside her and covered his face with his hands. “You’re Ladybug.”

“And you’re Robin,” she agreed, pulling her still throbbing leg to her chest. “You suck with and without the outfit. It makes sense,” she muttered.

And, sadly, it really did make sense. The buzzing under her skin she’d interpreted as anger was just the cat miraculous calling out to her, to its guardian, waving its arms and screaming at her to just let him use it. And, now that she thought about it, it could only have been him. She’d probably recognized the feeling she had around Damian as the one she had around Robin subconsciously and transferred that anger onto him.

“You can’t tell anyone,” she warned.

He scoffed. “Why would I hide it? They already suspect you. Besides, it’s not like the rest of my family would care, they love you with and without the costume.”

She sat up and sent him a glare. “It’s not about that. I keep my identity secret because I want to. It’s my privacy, my secret, and you don’t get to a choice in this.”

Damian -- no, Robin -- no -- He opened his fingers to peek at her serious face and she caught an eye roll.

“And, if you don’t...” She added, her voice sickly sweet. “I’m sure your family would love to know exactly how I found out who you all were.”

It was a guess, really. She assumed that, because they were pretty open about being family as vigilantes, they all had to be in on it when they told someone about their identities. But it was still a guess. She gave him her most confident look so he wouldn’t think she was bluffing.

His eyes narrowed and he sat up as well. She scrutinized his face; she looked for fear or annoyance or something, but he’d managed to put together a perfect mask.

And then...

He sighed and stuck his hand out. “Fine. I don’t tell them anything, you don’t tell them anything. Deal?”

They shook on it.

“Deal.”

~

She spent the next three days (because Jason had thrown a fit when he’d realized she had messed up her ankle more) observing the family. It would be beneficial to learn which bat corresponded to which Wayne, it made it easier to keep her lies consistent.

She could go off of ages, of course. It was the easy way to guess, but she’d never been one to take the easy way.

Besides, the ‘hard way’ wasn’t actually all that hard.

Bruce Wayne was a reclusive billionaire known to adopt kids faster than they could say ‘hi’. Batman was a reclusive billionaire known to take vigilantes under his wing just as quickly.

Dick Grayson-Wayne was an ex-acrobat who was determined to figure out if Marinette and Ladybug were the same person. Nightwing incorporated acrobat-like flexibility and technique in fighting and was determined to figure out if Marinette and Ladybug were the same person.

Jason Todd-Wayne was a sarcastic guy with gray morals and a tendency to joke about committing murder. Red Hood was a sarcastic guy with gray morals and a tendency to actually commit murder.

Timothy Drake-Wayne was a coffee-addicted workaholic that was smart enough to become CEO of a company at a young age. Red Robin was a coffee-addicted workaholic that was smart enough to figure out Batman and Robin’s identities at a young age.

Honestly, she felt like banging her head on a wall for not realizing it sooner. Sure, she’d suspected it, but she’d been so determined for ‘proper’ proof that she didn’t realize that there was some pretty good proof right in front of her.

Well, at least she’d figured it out at some point, she supposed.

~

She sent Jason a glare as she scooped some coffee pods into her bag. “I am fine.”

“But --.”

“I am fine.”

He huffed. “You’re still limping.”

“I. Am. Fine.”

He opened his mouth one last time, but was cut off by Tim pushing past him to wrap her in a hug. “Beeeeaaaaan, please let me --.”

She rolled her eyes and didn’t bother to push him off, only detaching an arm so she could drink from her mug. “Not working a second time.”

He groaned and buried his face in her hair. She sighed and glanced at Jason. “Help.”

“Only if you promise to stay a bit longer,” he said without missing a beat, his lips curved into a Cheshire grin.

Marinette sent him a look before leaning into Tim. “You’re all allowed to come to my house at any point.”

“Yeah, but your house is boring,” complained Dick.

She threw a cup of coffee creamer at him and he dodged it without even sparing it a glance.

“It’s true, bean, it’s pretty empty in there.”

Marinette laughed quietly. “Fine. If you guys don’t like it then you’re not allowed back.”

Jason gasped and joined the hug. “How dare you?”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to trap me here?”

“Whaaaaat? Us? No,” said Dick as he, too, walked over and wrapped his arms around her.

Marinette decided she’d give them a few minutes. She could still reach her coffee, and that’s all that really mattered.

At least, until she saw Damian in the hallway. Her shoulders tensed slightly at the sight of him. Ever since their agreement they’d come to a kind of truce. After all, if they really wanted they could spill the secret. Sure, there was incentive to keep quiet, but if one of their tempers got the better of them...

“Help?” She tried.

He looked away and continued walking, leaving her to suffer.

She sighed and went to work prying arms off of her. There was a lot of whining, but none of them resisted.

Outside of Tim.

Dick broke into a grin and pulled Jason out, yelling that they were going to help pack her stuff over his shoulder. She didn’t believe that was quite it. For some reason.

“Tim,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Come back for Thanksgiving?” He asked.

She blinked. A little over a month beforehand he’d been desperate to keep her away from this place. She couldn’t help but smile a little. “Fine. I’ll stay for Thanksgiving. But only if you let go.”

“Fine.”

Marinette raised her eyebrows when he didn’t let go immediately.

“Um...?”

He smirked. “I said I’d let go, I never said when.”

She groaned and pushed him off. This time he let her. “You’re so annoying.”

“You love me.”

“Mmm,” she said, determined to not say yes or no.

He didn’t seem to notice, giving her a wide grin. “Right, ready to go?”

She smiled. “Yep!”

~~~

Taglist

@comet-kun @thatonecroc @trippingovermyfeet @swiftie-miraculer13 @nickristus-dreamer @moongoddesskiana @i-am-ironic @indecisive-mess-named-me @thebooki3h @insane-fangirl-of-everything @deepestobservationwombat @theymakeupfairies @fatimaabbasrizvi @clumsy-owl-4178 @fanofalittletoomuch @iamablinkmarvelarmy @nathleigh @lilkymilky @silvergold-swirl @dino-lovingreen-angel @thestressmademedoit @kissa-chan @ladybug-182 @alysrose-starchild @t1dwarrior-of-earth @spyofthenightcourt @rowanrouge @nik-nak-3 @momothefemur @aestheticnpoetic @labschaos @our-preciousss @mochinek0 @eliza-bich @mythogaychic @severelyenchantedwonderland @sashakoi @smolplantmum @bluesimani @tropestropestropes @kitsunebell @keepingupwiththemalfoys @sassakitty @2confused-2doanything @too0bsessedformyowngood @all-mights-asscheeks @demonicbusiness @meg-an-ace @fantasiame @qualitypeacepainter

<3

#timinette #timari #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #red robin #satisfied #maribat

[charincharge]

Cruel Summer, Part 23

cruel summer masterlist

AN: Sorry if there are mistakes in this. It’s 7k words long (as opposed to my usual 2-3k). We’re maybe kinda getting somewhere? Anyway. I have enjoyed hearing your responses so much, especially as we come up on the end of this thing. Have I mentioned how much I adore you all? All angst to be blamed on Miss Taylor Alison Swift, and not me in the slightest, okay? xo.

Aelin is so completely exhausted. All she wants to do is sleep but it seems her body’s forgotten how. It’s as if every time her eyes are about to close, her brain startles her awake, making her heart race with adrenaline, anxiety spiking and coursing through her body. This must be some sort of sick punishment, she thinks. Around 5 am, she gives up trying to get any rest and gets out of bed. She may as well have a productive morning if she can’t get any sleep. She throws on her sneakers and plays an exercise video on her television, her feet stepping in time with the hip-hop cardio she used to do every morning at home. The familiar moves relax her, raising her heartbeat so she can’t feel the difference between her endorphins and her prickles of anxiety. Aelin is surprised to realize it feels… good. She smiles when realizes she’s found the magic cure for her restless mind today. Exercise. She doesn’t plan on stopping moving until her body gives out. By the time her parents wake, Aelin has finished two exercise videos, gone for a swim, and walked Fleetfoot. She makes a hearty breakfast of fried eggs, bacon and fruit salad. And is skipping toward the coffee machine for her third cup of coffee when Aedion, Lysandra, Evie and Gavin stride in for the day.

Aelin pauses, realizing her extended family’s appearance means she’ll have to go to the park shortly. The park where Rowan is. Her mind flashes back to their farewell embrace, less than twelve hours ago. She wonders what it’ll be like to see him again. Will he avoid her? Will he say hello? Will he pretend like nothing ever happened between them?

Nope. Aelin isn’t ready to think about that. Instead, she hops from foot to foot around the kitchen, skipping through patches of light like a cat, looking for the best sunshine to curl up under. However, Aelin has no intention of sitting and napping any time soon. She skips all the way to the coffee maker, refills her giant mug and hops back, careful not to let the hot liquid slosh over the side. She must look ridiculous, a constant flurry of movement, but she can’t stop. If she stops, she’ll have time to think. And she can’t do that.

Aelin knows her family thinks she’s gone crazy — she doesn’t care.

“Visual noise,” Aedion complains from behind his coffee mug, waving at Aelin’s ridiculously moving body, but Aelin ignores him, continuing to dance around the kitchen, humming to herself as she sips.

“Did you not get enough sleep, sweetie?” Evalin asks her son, and Aedion laughs.

“I have two kids under the age of ten.” He pauses with a wry smile as a well-timed squeal peels through the kitchen as Gavin chases Fleetfoot out to the back patio. “I never sleep.”

“If that’s true, then why does Lysandra never complain about it?” Aelin asks, and her brother casually flicks her off.

“Because Lys sleeps like the dead.”

Lysandra appears in the doorway, fresh faced, her pink lips curling into a grin as she laughs at her tired husband. “It’s not my fault that a pin dropping would wake you up.”

She pushes his blonde hair back affectionately and kisses his forehead. Aedion looks up at his wife with such love in his eyes, it nearly knocks Aelin out. She takes a large gulp of her coffee, and looks down at the ground where her feet move in tiny circles, tracing the tiles beneath her toes. Up, up, and around. She lets her eyes follow the pattern of her foot, practicing tendus as if she’s back in elementary school ballet.

“Do you want to stay here and rest while we take the kids to the park?” Lysandra asks, and Aedion shakes his head and brushes his lips against Lysandra’s hand. Aelin brings her leg off the ground, tapping it lightly to her knee, before placing it down again. She focuses on the position of her turn out and pointing her toes, just like her old dance teacher used to tell her.

“No, I’ll be fine. Just. Coffee, please?” he begs, and Lysandra rolls her eyes at him, but continues smiling. “If Aelin didn’t drink it all. Seriously, how much caffeine have you had? You’re vibrating the entire room. Sit down, it’s exhausting just looking at you.”

Aelin sticks her tongue out at her brother and watches as Lysandra pours Aedion his coffee with two packets of sugar in the raw and a splash of vanilla creamer. Aelin briefly thinks about how Rowan also needs to put a million things into his coffee to drink it – in fact, last week she filled a glass halfway with coffee and filled the rest with milk, and he still said it was too strong for him. She remembers the way his eyes gleamed when she told him he needed to toughen up, and he smiled and just said he liked things that tasted sweet and then kissed her.

Aelin stops herself. She shouldn’t be thinking about that. She and Rowan are over. Finished. He made that perfectly clear. Aelin slams her mug against the counter a little too hard. It clunks loudly against the marble, silencing the room as she finally stills.  

“So, should we get going or what?” Aelin asks, her foot swinging back and forth distractedly. If her movements are any indictaton, she’s not nearly ready, but she needs to pull off the band-aid eventually.

“Are you okay?” Aedion asks, raising an eyebrow at her odd behavior. But Aelin simply smiles and reassures him with the mantra she’s been saying over and over for the last twelve hours.

“I’m fine.”

The walk to the park seems longer than ever, for some reason. Aelin’s heart thuds loudly, beating in time with each step, filling her with unease as she grows closer to the park. When t finally comes into view, Aelin starts to feel nauseous. It’s probably her third cup of coffee that pushed her over the edge into jittery illness, but she suddenly wants to go back home and tell her mom she’s sick. She’s not ready for this.

But before she knows it, they’re at the entrance. She won’t be a coward, she decides, stepping through.

Aelin keeps her eyes wide open, searching for a flash of silver hair, her stomach roiling with knots as her family heads to their first ride. It gets worse with every corner she turns, holding her breath in anticipation of seeing those dark green eyes and wondering what emotion they’ll hold. Her constant anxiety works its way through her body, exhausting her quickly, and soon Aelin needs a snack break, desperate for a sugar boost.

As soon as she’s ordered her ice cream, Aelin is interrupted by a widely smiling Elide. Aelin smiles back at her beaming friend, knowing that she had a much better weekend than Aelin did and not wanting to bring her down. She heard all about it on the ride back home last night. And she assumes Elide and Lorcan went for a repeat as soon as they were off the bus.

“Hey!” Elide wraps her arms around Aelin’s waist, coming in for a giant hug.

“Hey yourself,” Aelin laughs. “You’re in a good mood again,” she quips, and Elide shoves her arm.

“Shut up. Let me be happy,” Elide grins.

“Judging just the size of Lorcan’s hands, I’m sure you’re very happy.” Aelin winks at her friend, whose cheeks flush and her brown eyes sparkle with glee, confirming Aelin’s suspicions.

“You’re the worst.”

“No, I’m the best,” Aelin says with a chuckle, and it feels good to smile, even if it’s not quite genuine.

“Speaking of, how’s your other half feeling?” Elide asks.

“Dorian?” Aelin replies. “I haven’t heard from him yet today.”

“No, you idiot.” Elide looks at her with narrowed eyes. “Rowan. Lorcan said he called in sick this morning.”

Aelin freezes, the nauseous feeling spilling into her stomach again. “He did?”

Aelin’s pause gets Elide’s attention, an Aelin tries to force a mask of calm on. She’s not entirely sure it works. Elide quirks her head to the side, trying to figure out what’s going on, looking like a confused animal.

“You didn’t know?” Elide asks slowly, and Aelin shakes her head as the snack attendant hands her an ice cream bar, but she’s not feeling hungry anymore. “I assumed you would have been there decked out with soup and juice or whatever.”

Aelin gnaws at the skin on her lip and shrugs. “Rowan and I actually…” She breathes deeply and plasters on a small smile for her friend. “We didn’t have as good a weekend as you. We actually, um, ended things.”

Elide gasps, horrified, and opens her arms to hug Aelin as she apologizes. “Oh my god, Aelin, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—" But Aelin stops her quickly.

“It’s fine,” she says with a shrug. “I’m fine.” Aelin sighs, her heart beating loudly in her chest as she repeats her practiced words, the ones she stayed up all night rehearsing and repeating over and over in her head until it became her truth. “We both knew it was just a summer thing, and now summer is over, you know?”

“Yeah…” Elide says sadly.

“Seriously, Ellie. You don’t need to give me that sad face. I’m fine,” Aelin repeats again.

“Okay.” She knows Elide is appeasing her, but she appreciates it. She doesn’t want to keep having this conversation. “Well, if you feel like coming out tonight and getting wasted, a bunch of us are hitting the Mason Jar after work,” Elide says. “You’re welcome to come.”

Aelin smiles, grateful at her friend for dropping it. “I think Dorian and I are supposed to hang later, but we could probably come after? I’ll let you know.”

Elide accepts Aelin’s half-committed response with a small nod, gives her another hug and heads off to her next shift.

Aelin takes one lick of her ice cream, hoping it’ll settle her stomach, but it does the opposite. It tastes like chalk in her dry mouth and she struggles to swallow it. She makes it back to her family, getting ready to go on the log flume. She gives the ice cream to her mother instead, who accepts it with a happy smile, completely unaware of her daughter’s upset. Aelin starts to dance in place again, needing something, anything to do.

Aelin thought she’d be relieved to know that Rowan isn’t in the park, but it’s brought her anything but comfort. Instead, she feels antsy that he’s in his apartment and not at the park. She said she’d see him in the park, and the first day, he goes and stays home? Aelin has a distinct feeling he’s not sick and wants to call him out.

Aelin pulls out her phone, ready to text Rowan and ask how he’s feeling, call his bluff. But she knows she can’t. Who is she to judge him for staying home and avoiding her? Rowan asked for space, and her checking in with him on day one is the absolute opposite of that. She’s furious with herself for even contemplating it. Why is she such a selfish bitch? She can’t even give him a single day off from her? Her chest tugs uncomfortably with the realization that he’ll have the rest of his life off from her. Aelin points and flexes her foot and reminds herself that she’s fine. She stands on her toes and plies, again and again, as she repeats the thought to herself.

She shoves her phone back into her pocket and doesn’t take it out again until the day is over.

When she pulls it back out, she’s not surprised to see she has no notifications. She’s been with her entire family the whole day. Who else would be texting her?

Instead of going back down that spiral, she texts Dorian, asking him if he’s still up to hanging out tonight.

He texts her back immediately. What do you want to do? Movie night?

Aelin pauses. The idea of sitting and watching a movie for hours sounds like torture. She needs a way to get out of her head. She impulsively texts him if they can go for a run instead. Dorian’s response is immediate.

A RUN?! We don’t run.

We do now. Dorian doesn’t reply, and Aelin starts feeling her heart pound again with nerves.

Please? Aelin texts again. She’s not above begging. She can’t help but feel ansty as she waits for his reply.

Fine. But I get to pick where we get dinner after.

Aelin smiles and walks home quickly. Dorian is already waiting on their back patio, running shoes in hand when she arrives. And she can’t help but smile.

“You’re the bestest best friend in the whole world,” she says, hugging him tightly, and Dorian shrugs her off, but she sees his pink ears as she showers him with praise.

“Where to?” he asks, shoving his feet into his shoes, and Aelin doesn’t wait for him to be ready to take off through the house, startling her parents who are opening a bottle of wine and settling in for dinner.

“Try and keep up, Dor!” she shouts, winding her way to the front door and taking off down the long driveway.

Unsurprisingly, Dorian catches up quickly. Despite him complaining about running, Dorian is actually fairly athletic. He played lacrosse all of high school and into college, and running comes second nature to him. He keeps stride beside Aelin, who breathes loudly as she finds her pace.

Aelin isn’t much of a runner herself – she danced and swam as her sports, but she can’t deny there’s something meditative about the even-paced tread of running. Her body falls into a solid rhythm, and she listens to the soft thud of her feet on the hot asphalt to center her as they take off into the neighborhood, the sun starting to set behind them.

“So…” Dorian starts, and Aelin turns her head lightly towards him to see what he wants to talk about. He doesn’t continue, so she assumes he’s trying to prompt her into some conversation, but he’s going to have to work harder than that.

“Ace,” he continues, breathing her nickname out like heavy sigh. “Talk to me.”

“About what?” Aelin asks, pumping her arms harder so she can talk and run simultaneously.

“You don’t need to pretend,” Dorian says carefully, his lips pursed. “I know.”

“Know what?” Aelin asks, turning her focus back to the steady thump, thump, thump of her footfall on the street.  

She’s not looking at him, but she knows Dorian is staring at her like she’s the biggest idiot in the world.

Aelin swallows loudly as she croaks out, “How?” And she watches the tension pull at Dorian’s neck and shoulders as he contemplates his next words.

“A little gay birdie told me.”

Aelin stumbles, losing her footing for a brief second, before ploughing forward. “Manon?” she pants, and Dorian nods.

“We’re actually, uh, friends now?” Dorian tells her nervously as he runs beside her. “I’ve been hanging out with her a lot since she’s started dating Nimi. They’re moving in together.”

“I didn’t know…” Aelin says quietly. Sweat beads run down her forehead and into her eyes, and Aelin wipes at them with the hem of her shirt, refusing to break step again as she thinks about all that she’s missed this summer. She hasn’t spent nearly enough time with her best friend. Yet another thing to add to her ever growing list of things to feel bad about.

“You’ve been busy.” Dorian shrugs and blots off his own sweat. “But you’re… not… anymore?”

Aelin shakes her head. “It was just for the summer. You knew that. It’s fine,” she says for the millionth time that day. “I’m fine.”

She watches as Dorian slows down his pace, so he can turn to her fully, his blue eyes piercing through her. “No, you’re not,” he says, and Aelin’s entire body stiffens under his intense scrutiny.

“Yes,” she insists, not letting his slowed pace affect her. She needs to keep moving and moving fast. “I am.”

“Aelin, come on. You can’t bullshit a bullshitter,” he says, becoming more agitated. He grabs at his curly bangs and tugs them off his forehead, a sure sign of his annoyance with his friend. “I know you. I’ve never seen you like this before. You were so wrapped up in him, I’m surprised anyone could pull you two apart. You can’t just end something like that and be fine.”

“Well I did, and I am, okay?” Aelin can feel her pulse racing as she stares at her best friend. She’s always run a little hot, but she never snaps at him.

“I just don’t understand why it ended at all. You’re obsessed with each other and—”

“Dorian, stop!” she hisses as her feet stutter to a complete stop. His lips part in surprise as he stops just in front of her, but he gives into her demands, hands up in defeat as he quits talking.

Her shoulders heave with her heavy breath as she struggles to tamp down her sudden burst of anger.

“Can we please just finish our run and not talk about my no-longer existent love life? Please?”

Aelin knows she can’t handle this conversation. There’s a reason she needs to keep moving, and it is so she doesn’t have to think about this. About being obsessed with Rowan, about being so wrapped up in him that she almost convinced herself she could have him forever. She can’t think about all that she’s lost. Not yet. So, she’ll keep moving instead.

“Can I give you a hug?” Dorian asks, and Aelin shakes her head immediately.

“I appreciate that so much, but… I just can’t, okay?”

Dorian nods, though she’s not sure he really understands what she’s saying. She doesn’t really understand what she’s saying either, honestly.

They pick their feet back up and start their run again, although it doesn’t distract Aelin as much as she wishes it would. Now that Dorian’s poked that tiny hole in her wall, she can feel the sadness start to mix with her anxiety, creating a cacophony of heartbreak seeping into her body. It threatens to drown her in a deadly tidal wave of her own creation.

By the time the pair finishes their run, Aelin is desperate to keep the emotions at bay. She will literally do anything to erase them.

“Dinner?” Dorian pants as he wipes sweat from his brow.

“Yeah,” Aelin breathes heavily. “Where do you want to go?”

Dorian shakes his head. “Lady’s choice.”

Aelin sighs. She doesn’t want to have to make any more decisions right now. So instead, she chooses Dorian’s favorite restaurant. A small Mexican restaurant with cheese coated everything and killer spicy margaritas. If Dorian is surprised, he doesn’t say anything – though he knows Aelin isn’t the biggest fan of the place because cilantro is in literally every dish, and she can’t stand the herb. But Aelin can’t help but think that a margarita sounds pretty damn good right now.

They agree to shower and meet up in an hour, and Aelin takes the time to put on a full face of makeup and do her hair. She needs protection from the real world. If she’s going out and seeing people, she’s not going to be Aelin tonight. She’s going to bury herself beneath layers of hairspray and makeup and too tight clothing. She takes the time to blow out her hair straight, something she hasn’t done since the very first week of summer, and cakes on foundation, dark eye shadow and liner and finishes with a thick coat of mascara. She stands in front of her closet, needing the proper clothes to accompany her non-Aelin look, something to act as armor. She finds a pair of old ripped jeans, which are far too tight, but she manages to shimmy into them, and finishes with a strappy black crop top from her college partying days.

She stares at herself in the mirror, armed with cleavage and sultry eyes, she doesn’t look like herself. And she feels a modicum of relief. She can be someone else and forget her problems. Just for the night.

Dorian whistles when she enters the restaurant, spicy margarita already waiting on the table for her. She brings it to her lips and takes a long sip as Dorian peruses her look.

“All this for me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow, and Aelin can’t help but roll her eyes at him.

“I thought we could go out dancing after dinner,” she says, quickly swallowing a large gulp of her margarita. It’s spicy and sweet and salty and tingles all the way down as it settles in her stomach. She knows dancing is a long shot – Dorian hates dancing. In public, at least. He can’t stand the bad club music and overheated floors and gaudy lights and overpriced drinks. It’s not his environment; he’d rather do karaoke at a dive bar any day of the week, but Aelin is desperate to keep her endorphins up. Karaoke just won’t cut it.

“Dancing?” He looks put out, and Aelin crinkles her nose at his frown.

“Yeah, you know. Loud music, sweaty bodies, dimmed lights, more drinks...” “I hate dancing,” Dorian scoffs. Aelin is undeterred by his less than enthusiastic attitude, already prepared for his pushback, as she grabs a chip and dunks it into the bowl of salsa between them. “You do not,” she says, exasperated with her best friend already. “You’re just a music snob. But once we get enough liquor in you...”

She lifts up her margarita, already half empty, and Dorian finally cracks a smile. She’s breaking through to him. She knew she’d be able to. Knew the restaurant would help bribe him. “Elide texted me about drinks?” he says, and Aelin sighs. She knew she should have just told Elide they couldn’t come. “Why don’t we just get drunk at The Mason Jar with everyone else.” “Because there’s no dance floor at MJ’s. Pleasseee?” Aelin begs. “Are you going to yell at me again if I tell you you’re acting a little manic?”

Aelin pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. She knows she is. She’s been chasing an adrenaline high all damn day – running and twirling and skipping from activity to activity, unable to stop moving. She can’t think about what happens when the endorphins fade. “I just. Want to dance. Please, Dor. Please.” She pauses and waits for him to answer, hoping against all hopes she can get him to agree to dancing. She knows it’s a long shot, but she’s willing to do anything at this moment to get him to agree .

“If we go dancing, then will you actually talk to me about you?”

Ugh. Anything but that.

“Tomorrow?” Aelin asks, hope blooming in her chest that she can push those feelings off for another day – or ideally until she’s back home in Adarlan and completely alone, and Dorian frowns again.

“Let’s eat first and then decide how we’re feeling,” he says.

Aelin isn’t completely happy with his answer but agrees. She’ll never get him to agree if she pushes too hard.

Instead, she asks him about the last few weeks. She wants to be informed about everything. What has he been up to? How did his friendship with Manon form? What have they done together?

Aelin listens closely as Dorian launches into his stories of what he’s been doing with Manon, following every word as he describes their adventures around Terrasen. He tells her about their time at the brewery and getting free drinks all night because Manon and Nimi convinced the bartender they were newlyweds. And how Manon let him bleach her hair, and he ended up bleaching his arm hair by accident. He pulls up his sleeve to show the evidence, and Aelin cackles wildly at the orange tinted hair on his arm. Dark hair doesn’t bleach well without toner, he explains, causing Aelin to laugh hysterically again.

It feels so good to laugh. Dorian can tell and continually tells her stories, one progressively more absurd than the other. By the time he’s explaining the first time Manon wing-manned for him, and picked up a dude, because she “just assumed,” Aelin is having a hard time breathing through her giggles.  

“But you do like dudes,” Aelin says through her laughter.

“Yeah, but only on occasion! And I can’t believe she even didn’t ask.”

Aelin laughs at her best friend, who is clearly acting put out to get her to laugh more. She appreciates his efforts.

“You still hooked up with him, though, didn’t you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Dorian says with a fiendish grin. “He was hot.”

Aelin smiles so widely she feel like her face might crack. “I missed you, Dor.”

He runs his hand through his dark curls and bats his dark lashes at her overzealously. “Yeah, yeah. Me too.”

Aelin bites her lip as she begins to launch into her one last plea for dancing, but it turns out to be unnecessary.

“Alright, to Red Square?” he asks, and Aelin squeals with glee.

“Are you sure?” she asks, wanting Dorian to have a good night, too. “You could invite Manon if you want.” Dorian raises an eyebrow at the suggestion. “Won’t that be a little weird?” “No, I already told you, it’s fine. I’m—“ “You’re fine, yeah. I heard you.” She knows he doesn’t believe her, but as long as he’s willing to go dance with her, she doesn’t particularly care. He bites his lip and Aelin smiles, knowing he’s convinced.

Dorian shoots off a quick text to Manon, who replies quickly that she’s at drinks with Elide – of course, Aelin should have known – but that if they get drunk enough, she’ll be happy to watch Dorian make a fool of himself on a dance floor.

“I like her,” Aelin snorts as she links her arm with Dorian, who pulls her close and kisses the top of her head. Her heart stutters as she thinks of all the times Rowan ghosted his lips across her hair and forehead; his favorite spot to kiss. But she shakes it off quickly, thinking about all the liquor she’s about to consume. She’s ready to have her mind erased. There’s exactly one dance club in all of Terrasen — a Russian vodka bar with a cramped dance floor in the back, where barely twenty people can smush their bodies against each other like sardines, swaying to the bad DJ playing hits from five years ago. Just ever so out of touch. They’re famous for their signature cocktail. The nanotchka. A sugary combination of strawberries, champagne and vanilla flavored vodka. They taste like candy but are seriously lethal.

Aelin immediately orders three.

Dorian lifts an eyebrow. “Manon isn’t coming for a little while yet…”

Aelin smirks and picks up the drinks off the bar. “I know. These are both for me.”

She wiggles her hips as she slurps down half of the strawberry concoction, feeling it warm her immediately. Dorian laughs and grabs the third one for himself, watching Aelin throw back the first drink in record time.

“Dance time?” she asks, feeling looser and lighter already.

Dorian holds out his hand for Aelin to lead the way, and she makes her way from the empty front bar to the back room, which is already pulsing with heavy bass and flashing colored lights.

“I love this song,” she says, traipsing onto the dance floor. Bodies part for her and Dorian, making room for them as she slides into the middle, hips swaying with the steady thrum of the bass. She closes her eyes and lets the music flow through her. With Dorian next to her, she feels safe enough to let loose. She sways happily to the music, sipping at her second drink just enough to keep it from spilling. He matches her pace, grinning at her as she sings along to the song blaring overhead.

We're all here -- the lights and boys are blinding We hang back, it's all in the timing It's poker, he can't see it in my face But I'm about to play my Ace

Dorian spins her around, and she whirls in a circle, her hair spinning around her shoulders as she continues to sing too loudly for the small dance floor.

Baby, we're the new romantics Come on, come along with me Heart break is the national anthem We sing it proudly We are too busy dancing To get knocked off our feet Baby, we're the new romantics The best people in life are free

Her heart swells with the lyrics, singing her affirmations. Before she knows it, her second drink is empty, but Dorian replaces it with a third quickly.

Some time between her second and third drink, Aelin’s head starts to swim, and her body floats away. She’s no longer in control of her limbs – she’s just moving. A body unto someone else. Three quarters vodka, one quarter sweat. And one hundred percent unencumbered by feelings. This is exactly what she wanted. She’s almost forgotten about the persistent painful tug against her chest. Almost.

Aelin is completely wasted by the time Manon arrives with Nimi. She knows they’re not exactly friends, but she can’t help running off the dance floor to greet them with big smiles and hugs. She throws her arms around Manon’s shoulders, stumbling slightly into the tall blonde. They both sway momentarily while Manon regains her balance, but Aelin barely notices, as she moves onto greeting Nimi.

“Whoa,” Manon mutters under her breath at Aelin’s forceful hello.

“You both need drinks!” Aelin chirps, and insists that she get their first round, despite their insistence that they can’t stay for that long. Aelin shushes them and promises the nanotchka will change their lives.

At the bar, Aelin orders another round, and feels someone pressing into her, trying to get to the front. She attempts to move to the side, but the hand on the small of her back just shifts to her hip as she moves. She looks up into the eyes of a tall man with shaggy brown hair and blue eyes. He’s looking at her like he knows her, but she can’t place him.

“Well, well, well, never thought I’d see heiress Aelin Ashryver at Red Square,” he chuckles darkly, and Aelin sways on her feet and narrows her eyes, trying to remember the man in front of her.

“Do I know you?” she finally asks, trying to gather her drinks quickly, but she’s much drunker than she initially thought, because she knocks one over immediately, spilling it all over the bar.

She apologizes to the bartender, but the man in front of her smirks and offers to get her another.

“No, it’s fine,” she says quickly. “I probably don’t need another one anyway…”

And it’s true. As Aelin looks up, she realizes the floor is tilting slightly. She forgot how strong these drinks were. She definitely should have paced herself more.

“Cairn,” the man finally says, and Aelin struggles to remember why that name sounds familiar. “I’m a friend of Sam Cortland’s,” he clarifies. “We met briefly at his party.”

The main thing Aelin remembers of that night is kissing Rowan under a streetlight and how handsome he looked. Everything else was a blur. She shivers and grabs the remaining two drinks, trying to steady herself enough to walk back to the dance floor.

“Right. Well, my friends are waiting,” she says, motioning back to the dance floor, and he finally releases his grasp on her hip.

“See you out there,” he says with a wink, and Aelin can’t walk away fast enough. Even wasted, she knows that guy gives off bad vibes. She finds Manon, Nimi, and Dorian, who have taken their spot in one of the booths, which surround the dance floor.

Dorian pouts upon seeing her two drinks. “None for me?”

“I could only carry two!” she says with a laugh. “Now, who’s coming to dance with me?”

She braces herself on the side of the table and pointedly looks at her friends, but they all avoid her.

“We really are leaving soon… our ride is on the way,” Manon explains, and Dorian grimaces as he pleads a break. His feet are tired. He’s sweaty, and he’s almost ready to leave, too.

Aelin looks at her phone. It’s already after midnight, somehow. She asks Dorian to give her twenty more minutes of dancing, and then they can head out. He nods and says he’ll be waiting at the table for her whenever she’s ready to go.

Aelin slides between the mess of sweaty bodies, finding her place on the floor again. She doesn’t go all the way to the center, wanting to be able to flag down Dorian, should she need him. But, she gives into the music again and starts moving.

Her drunk feet barely leave the ground as she flails her arms and hips. She thinks that’s safest. But she lets herself ascend again. After a few minutes of moving, she feels someone’s hands on her hips as a warm body presses against her back.

She stiffens as she looks over her shoulder and sees a leering Cairn, trying to look down her shirt. She expertly spins out of his arms, and takes a step away to keep dancing alone, but he follows her, undeterred.

“What are you doing?” she shouts over the music.

“Dancing with you,” he says, his hands reaching out to grab at her waist and pull her into himself again. She can feel him hard against her, and Aelin is completely disgusted. Her head swims as she tries to regain her senses, but she’s too drunk, too out of control, and she’s not strong enough to pull out of his grasp as he moves their hips together, his erection poking into her stomach uncomfortably.

“I want to dance alone,” she says, trying to extract herself again, but his fingers are hooked into her belt loops, and Aelin is stuck. She looks over to Dorian’s table, trying to get his attention, but the table is empty. Her heart pounds, suddenly feeling very alone and unsafe and abandoned.

“No one who’s dressed like you are right now wants to dance alone,” Cairn says and dips his head to her bare shoulder. He skims his nose against her skin, and Aelin focuses and pushes against his chest as hard as she can. He barely moves. “Sam told me you were a little tease,” he sneers, and Aelin starts to feel sick.

“Just, leave me alone, please,” she begs, her eyes darting around the room for Dorian or Manon or Nimi. Where did they go? She’s way too drunk for this. Her heart pounds wildly, and not just from the hours of dancing she’s done.

“I don’t think I will,” he says, letting his hands slide down her thighs and grope her ass.

She’s about to shove him again when she’s pulled back aggressively, whipped out of Cairn’s grasp by two strong arms. She stumbles back into her savior and immediately feels warmth creep up her back and neck. She knows his grasp before she even spots his face or hears his voice over her shoulder.

“She said to leave her alone,” he says lowly, and Aelin can’t help but look over her shoulder at her silver haired protector. Part of her thinks she’s dreaming, until she sees the coldness in his green eyes waver when he looks down at her. His anger hardens again as he looks back at Cairn, and she trips over her feet again. The floor is definitely not even, Aelin decides as she stumbles back into Rowan’s chest. His grasp steadies her, and she can’t help but relax into it slightly.

“Who are you?” Cairn sneers. “Her boyfriend?”

“No,” Rowan sighs. “Not her boyfriend.” Aelin can hear the pain behind his exasperation. It’s enough to shatter the walls she’s attempted to keep in place all day, and she can feel tears start to prick at her eyes. God, she’s so, so stupid. Here he is, still saving her. Always saving her.

“Well, then, fuck off and mind your own business,” Cairn says, reaching for Aelin again. Aelin pushes backwards, away from Cairn, and Rowan pulls her with him as he takes a giant step back.

“There you are!” Dorian calls, jogging up beside her. Rowan immediately releases Aelin, and she feels the loss of his warmth acutely, despite Dorian wrapping his arm over her shoulders. “Hey Cairn,” Dorian coos at the sleazy man in front of them. “Should have known you’re the type to prey on drunk girls.” He stares at him, waiting for a comeback, but Cairn stays, staring. “I think you’re done here,” Dorian says again, firmly, and Cairn finally rolls his eyes and stalks back onto the dance floor.

“Are you okay?” Doran asks, looking her over, and Aelin nods, but she can’t help but be distracted by Rowan’s hovering presence.

“I thought you were sick,” Aelin says, and Rowan’s shoulders stiffen as he looks down at her, his face unreadable.

“I figured I was allowed to play one day of hooky.” He pauses. “Is that a problem? You’re not going to tell your parents and get me in trouble, are you?”

Aelin’s brow furrows. “No, of course not,” she mumbles, suddenly feeling nauseous on top of everything else. The wall crumbles in front of her, and pain rushes in, knocking her senseless. “I’m sorry…” She tries to look at Rowan, really look at him, but her head is swimming, and she can’t stand up straight. She slumps against Dorian, who holds her up.

“Let’s get you home,” Dorian says, leading her out of the bar, but Aelin can’t focus on anything except for the slight warmth coming from Rowan’s body, just inches away.

She ignores Manon and Nimi’s concerned looks as Rowan piles them into the cab of his truck. Rowan pauses, staring at them. Aelin wonders what he’s thinking.

Dorian speaks up. “We’ll be fine. Our Uber is already on its way.”

Aelin wants to apologize again, but she can’t say anything. All she can do is watch as Rowan slams his truck door shut and drives off, leaving Aelin slumped against Dorian, her head pounding and her stomach clenched.

The Uber arrives quickly, just as Dorian said, and he pulls her in after him. The Uber driver chats aimlessly with Dorian as Aelin leans against his shoulder. She tries to breathe steadily, but all she can see is Rowan’s angry face, and all she can feel is her broken heart.

At first, just a small tear falls down Aelin’s cheek, but she wonders what she’s fighting it for. Her shaky breath gives way to a loud cry, and she shocks the entire car when a sob rips out of her chest, and her shoulders heave as she lets out her tears. What is her problem? Why did she do this to herself?

She needs to apologize to Rowan, needs to tell him how much she cares about him, how much she wants to be with him. But, she has no idea how to make that future work. She thinks about giving up her life in Adarlan and staying in Terrasen with him for the first time ever. What would that even look like? She has no idea what she wants to do with her life, still. And even if she decided to do that, would Rowan even have her anymore? Her heart splits painfully as she tears herself apart. Sobs wrack through her body as her shoulders heave with the weight of her sadness.

She briefly hears the Uber driver ask Dorian if she’s okay, and she holds up her hand, repeating her mantra over and over – “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

But she and Dorian both know it’s a lie. She’s not fine. She hasn’t been fine since she pushed Rowan away. And for what? To make them both miserable?

She wants him. No, she needs him. So fucking badly. She can’t imagine feeling this empty hole in her chest for the rest of her life. She needs to figure out how to fix it. She just doesn’t know how. She ruined everything.

Aelin’s tears don’t stop, even as Dorian leads her up the stairs of her house and sits her down in her bathroom to wipe away the caked streaks of mascara from her cheeks. He pours her a large glass of water and helps her change into her favorite shirt of Rowan’s to sleep in. Aelin is infinitely grateful when he curls beside her in her bed, without her having to ask him to stay, as her tears continue to pour down her face.

“I’ll take that hug now,” she whispers, and Dorian doesn’t wait a second before wrapping her up into his tight embrace. He rubs at her back and lets her cry it out.

“I don’t know what to do, Dor,” she says, her voice cracking. “Every second I’m not with him I feel like I can’t breathe.”

Her tears fall in earnest again, dampening her pillow.

“You’re so dramatic,” he chuckles, pushing her tear dampened hair off her cheeks.

“I leave in five days,” she cries, and Dorian hugs her tighter.

“You’ll figure it out,” he says. She nods, not sure that’s true, but she’s grateful for her best friend. He stays with her, smoothing out her hair and whispering hushed affirmations until Aelin finally falls into a fitful sleep.

~*~*~*~

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@galyxsy​

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@queenofbumblebees​

@kaitlynn1216​

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@officialasianbitch​

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@df3ndyr

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@tottenhamboys20

#rowaelin #aelin x rowan #cruel summer au #charincharge writes #tog fanfic #throne of glass #angst #blame taylor swift

[brywrites]

Flight Risk X

Summary: An answer to the age old CM question, “who’s flying the plane?” And the story of a pilot and a profiler. Part X: In which a profiler and a pilot find a safe place to land, and in which our story comes to a close.

(Series Masterlist) ( Previous |  Next )

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

“It’s a serial poisoning case,” Garcia explains. “And Reid, he got poisoned somehow. He’s at the hospital now and they’re gonna give him an antitoxin but he’s still unconscious. Morgan’s there now but the team really needs him back in the field and I just didn’t know who else to call.”

Y/N swallows past the lump in her throat and says, “Tell me where to go and I’ll be there.”

“Oh my god thank you thank you thank you,” she sighs. “I’m sending you the address now and I’ll make sure they put you on his visitor list.”

When she hangs up Arthur asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Reid’s been poisoned,” she says, and she hates the quiver in her voice. “He’s at the hospital. They need someone to stay with him.”

“I’ll come with you,” he says.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to.”

“You shouldn’t have to do this alone.” Before she can argue he puts cash down on the table to cover their order and is ushering her out the door. The hospital Reid is at is mere feet away from the The Graduate and in that moment she loves that stupid tacky motel with her entire heart.

A nurse leads the two of them to the correct room, where Morgan is waiting outside. “Hey mama,” he says, offering a tired smile. Then, with a polite nod to Arthur, “Captain.”

“Is he okay?” she asks.

“He will be. This unsub is poisoning people using various coffee shops, and Pretty Boy here bought a cup at the most recent target this morning. They just gave him the antitoxin so he should be waking up soon. That stuff does a real number on the body though, so he’ll be feeling pretty bad when he does. But I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you. Just keep us posted, okay?”

“Okay,” she says. Morgan heads out to find the team and she walks into the room. There are two plastic chairs so she and Arthur sit together at the side of the hospital bed where Reid currently lies. He looks a little more pale than usual, though if it weren’t for the IVs and the hospital gown she would think that maybe he was just sleeping. Looking as peaceful as he did the morning she found him asleep on her couch.

“It’s a dangerous job,” Y/N says quietly.

“It is,” Arthur agrees. This is their greatest fear each time they fly away on a case. That one of the agents they transport will wind up hurt or hospitalized or worse. That all their passengers won’t come back to them safe and sound. “I’ve been flying these agents around for fourteen years. Agent Morgan seems to be injured the most, but when Doctor Reid is hurt it always seems to be something extreme. On more than one occasion I didn’t think he would ever set foot on this plane again.”

The words unnerve her. There’s still so much she doesn’t know about Spencer, in spite of all their conversations and meetings and stories.

“It’s not easy to care for people you know will get hurt someday,” he says. “But that hasn’t stopped you from loving him.” Y/N turns to him wide-eyed, her cheeks burning. The captain chuckles. “Please, Y/L/N, I don’t need to be a profiler in order to see what’s happening between the two of you.”

She sighs and turns her gaze to Spencer. “I know you think I’m making a mistake.”

“Not at all.”

“But you kept warning me not to get close to the BAU, and I didn’t listen to you at all.”

“Martin and I always kept to ourselves when we flew together. We did so because the agents were not always interested in talking, and because it was difficult to become friends with people we knew were constantly in danger. One day there was a case in Boston. Six of them died. It felt like we had flown them there like lambs to the slaughter. It has always been easier for me to keep my distance and to do my job. But I can see that it’s different for you.”

She can’t imagine. Six agents. As it currently stands that would be the entire team.

“You need to feel connected to people,” he continues. “Even if it means this job is harder. That’s not a mistake. And in all the years this man has been on my plane, I’ve never seen him smile at someone the way he smiles at you.”

“Coffee.” The words are barely a mumble, but they immediately jolt the two pilots out of their conversation. Spencer shakes his head slightly. “It’s in the coffee beans,” he mutters. He turns his head and he blinks awake with heavy eyes that can’t seem to focus, but she swear he looks at her. “Angel,” he sighs. And then his eyes close once more and his heart rate returns to a slower, steady rhythm. She looks at Arthur, completely befuddled. He simply shrugs, not knowing what to make of that any more than she does.

There is a knock at the door and a doctor in a white coat steps into the room. “Could I speak to one of you for a moment?” she asks. “There’s some paperwork that needs to be filled out if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I can do it,” Y/N says. Arthur promises to keep a good eye on the good Doctor, and so she follows this doctor out into the hallway, glancing back at Spencer one last time as she does so.

----

His head feels fuzzy. Everything is a haze. All he knows for sure is that his body aches all over. Oh. That must be the poison. He remembers when it began to affect him, and suddenly it all made sense. He tried to tell the team but the world went dark before he could explain. It wasn’t just in the coffee, it had to do with the coffee beans. The bags the shops were using to make their coffee. That’s why they couldn’t trace it back to one single location. He needs to tell them, they need to know, but everything is just so hazy. So confusing. For a moment the world doesn’t feel dark – it feels blindingly bright and he has a sense of urgency, a need to be awake. He tries to open his eyes but everything is just light. He turns his head. There is a figure dressed in white. It looks like her. That can’t be right. They’re not speaking these days. It must be angel. He doesn’t believe in such things, but what other explanation is there? It may just be his brain playing visual tricks on him but that trick must be an angel. His angel.

But then his eyes feel so heavy. Sleep would be nice. He slips back into the haze.

Reid isn’t sure how much time has passed when he suddenly jolts out of the fuzzy feeling. He’s asleep but he’s in a bed and everything hurts and he should probably try to open his eyes. With much effort, he does. He blinks at the bright light of the hospital room – he’s been in enough to recognize immediately where he is. If he’s alive, that means they got the antitoxin to him in time. Which means his team has figured out what’s happening, and he can just breathe easy now. Or as easily as his aching lungs will let him.

Someone clears their throat. There’s almost always a member of his team waiting with him, but he’s surprised to turn and see Captain Dobson sitting there beside him. Reid nearly jumps, the heart rate monitor spiking to emphasize his confusion.

“You’re alright, Doctor Reid,” he says. “Everything’s fine. You’re in a hospital. You were poisoned.”

“I know,” he says, his voice raspy. “It was… the poison was in the-”

“Coffee beans?” the captain finishes. “You were saying something about it before you woke up.”

“I must’ve been dreaming then. I remember thinking about the coffee. And I thought I saw an angel. But that doesn’t make any sense.”

But then the door opens and Y/N steps into the room in a white dress and cream-colored cardigan and it absolutely does. “Hi,” he says, sitting up in the bed.

“Hi,” she replies sheepishly.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Arthur says, standing up from his chair. He and Y/N make eye contact briefly before he steps out of the room, closing the door behind him.

After a moment of awkward hesitation, she sits down next to him in one of the plastic chairs. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I made things weird between us.”

“I think we both did,” she says. “But no matter how much I try to pretend that I don’t care about you, when Garcia called me I was so scared.” Her voice shakes. “I thought I might never get to see you again and that the last thing I ever said to you was to leave me alone.”

“I was scared too,” he admits. “I missed you.” He missed every conversation, missed the sound of her laugh, missed the promise of a free weekend meaning he could spend a little more time with her. Even if it would only hurt him in the end, he wanted to see her.

“How did this even happen?” she asks.

“Morgan and I were revisiting the last known locations of the victims. I wanted to get coffee before we drove back to the precinct. The closest place was called Café Coco. I figured it was safe because I watched the barista grind a fresh bag of coffee beans before brewing my cup and she never added anything to it, but before we could even finish giving the profile I was out.”

“Café Coco?” she asks. “I went there this morning.”

“What?” Reid gasps. Panic surges through him, the adrenaline countering the exhaustion he feels. Oh this can’t be good. Did she drink the same coffee? How much did she drink? Is there enough antitoxin in supply? This is it, this is proof that the moment he starts to love someone the universe conspires to strike them down. “We need to tell a doctor, we need to-”

She puts her hand on his. “Spencer, it’s okay. I didn’t get coffee. I ordered tea. For some reason I just... felt like caffeine wasn’t a good idea.” He stares at her and he has absolutely no words. The panic ebbs and gives way to a stunned quiet. Because this is new. This isn’t anything he’s prepared for. Y/N waltzed right through the heart of danger and was unscathed. Maybe, just maybe, the universe has spared her. Maybe this time he gets to be happy after all. Maybe there is still one thing he can love without ruining.

But then he remembers. And his chest aches for a reason that has nothing at all to do with the poison. “It’s not fair,” he says quietly.

“What’s not fair?” she asks.

“I care about you and you’re okay. And that’s never happened before, but it doesn’t matter because you’re leaving.”

“What do you mean?”

“The IRT job,” Reid says. “Your dream job.”

“I didn’t take it.”

“You didn’t?” Now he’s confused. “But why? Y/N, you said it was your dream.”

“I didn’t take it. I mean, I still have to give them an official answer, but I’ve known my decision for a while now. I knew the moment you walked away. I thought a job like that was the only thing I wanted. But lately I’ve started to question that. And when you told me about the people you’ve lost and how much you missed them, I knew for sure. I want to fly,” she insists. “I want to be in the air and in a plane and loving the sky. But I want a home, too.”

Her eyes are shining and the soft smile on her face as she speaks makes all the pain fade when he’s looking at her. “I’ve been flying for a long time. But I’ve never had a place to call home like this before. With Yeeqin and all of our friends. With Arthur. With the BAU. And with you,” she adds. “Even without you, I finally feel like I have a place where I belong, and I don’t want to lose that. My airplane heart has been circling for a long time. I think it’s about time I found a safe place to land.”

“I can be that,” he says without thinking. But he means it. “I can be that, if you’ll let me.”

“Do you want that?” she asks.

“Yes. Very much so. When I realized what was happening to me in the precinct, I was thinking about a lot of things. About the coffee beans and my team and what they needed to figure out. But I thought about you, too. I wasn’t sure what would happen but I was afraid I would never get the chance to tell you that I missed you and that I was wrong. That I felt it too, that I felt so deeply for you. And I still do.”

She laces her fingers through his and he’s never held hands with someone like this before but god does it feel so right. “Flying was my first love,” she tells him. “And I never thought I would find anything that felt as magical as the moment a plane lifts off the ground. But you do. Every time you look at me it’s like that. Like gravity doesn’t matter anymore. Like everything is a little bit lighter.”

While he has never quite fallen in love with flying the same way, Reid knows exactly what she means. Every second he’s with her is like finishing his favorite book. Each time he makes her smile he feels like he’s solved the most important puzzle in history. She’s the first chemical reaction he completed, the first equation he solved. All that and more.

“I think,” he says, “that’s how love is supposed to make you feel.” And maybe it’s too soon and maybe it’s too much but he’s nearly told her once already and he just doesn’t think he can bear to hold the words in his chest any longer. “I love you.”

Her face absolutely lights up. “I love you, too,” she says. And he wants so badly to kiss her but with the mess of the IVs and cannula and monitors he can’t turn to do so he just squeezes her hand a little tighter and they sit there grinning at each other feeling like the luckiest people on the planet.

“So,” she says. “You, um, thought I was an angel?”

A laugh escapes his lips. “Well, yes. But I still kind of think you are.”

---

That evening Arthur grabs both of their bags from the Graduate so that she can wait with Spencer while he’s discharged. The doctors caution that there may be some aftereffects over the next twenty-four hours and send him with medication in the event anything changes during the flight back. The three of them ride over together to the airport to meet the rest of the team and head home. All of their passengers are accounted for. Everything is okay. Even so, she doesn’t let go of his hand the whole ride, and can’t stop from asking him each time he winces if he’s feeling alright.

They arrive at the hangar soon enough. Spencer rubs circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. “I’ll be alright,” he assures her, noticing the worry on her face. “It’s not even two hours. The team will keep an eye on me and we’ll see each other soon.”

“I’ll just get changed and then be ready to prepare for takeoff,” Y/N tells Arthur.

“Actually, that won’t be necessary,” he replies.

“What do you mean?” The captain has always been strict about the Bureau mandated dress code.

“I told you that I need you focused when we’re flying. And I know that your thoughts are elsewhere at the moment, so I called an old friend in Nashville. Sheila will fly as my co-pilot tonight so that you can stay close to him. I think it’s what you both need.”

Despite all of their formalities, Y/N throws her arms around him in a hug. “Thank you,” she says. “Thank you so much.”

“And Y/L/N? About the IRT offer,” he adds. “Malik and I have been talking. He’s retiring this year and there’s a lot of things on our bucket list we have yet to do. I’ve been thinking that perhaps it’s time for me to do the same. Spend some time traveling for enjoyment with my husband rather than crossing the country multiple times a month. And if I were to retire, I would want you to succeed me. If you’d be interested, of course.”

“Really?”

He smiles. “I think you’ve found something good here. And it would be a shame to leave that behind. But I also think it’s time you were promoted – and time I took a page from Martin’s book and enjoyed the time I have with the person I love most.”

“Of course. Yes, yes absolutely.”

“Then it’s settled,” he says, putting his cap on. “I’m glad you didn’t listen to me all those month ago.” He disappears into Geff, and she bounds back over to Spencer.

“Arthur called in a favor,” she says. “So that I could ride home with you, if that’s okay?”

“That is more than okay,” he tells her, grinning. And it’s such a perfect smile that she can’t help herself. She leans in and presses her lips to his and he reciprocates immediately, his hands gently cupping her face and it’s all too brief but all so wonderful and when he pulls away the grin has shifted to dazed, blissful smile that she is certain mirrors the look on her own face.

“Well damn,” Morgan says behind them. “Garcia’s gonna be so mad she wasn’t here to witness that.” Kate elbows him and Spencer turns beet red but the smile never fades.

She’s been in the cabin plenty of times before, but she’s never flown. It’s an incredibly nice interior and they sit side by side in seats that are more comfortable than she’s imagined. Geff speeds down the runway and Spencer holds her hand, her head on his shoulder and his head against hers just like that night on the couch. They lift up into the clear blue air and it’s still so magical and this feeling is still so magical and she doesn’t know how it could possibly get better than this.

---

“Are you ready Doctor?” she asks. “You look a little nervous.”

Reid looks at her. “Y/N, angel, you know I trust you. I’ve just never been in a plane this size before.” After three months, the BAU has taken down the trafficking ring, Kate has taken a leave of absence, and everyone has been given a week off to take a much-needed break. And his girlfriend has convinced him to spend one day of that week in a tiny prop plane with her. She insists that there’s nothing quite like being in the cockpit when the plane takes off, and this is the best way to experience it.

They sit side by side in the small cockpit of the plane, the sky above them a perfect clear blue. She has already run through the preflight checklist, identifying all the valves and instruments she’ll need in a matter of seconds. “It’ll be okay,” she promises, turning the key. “Headset on.” He puts it on as instructed, ensuring that they’ll be able to communicate with one another despite the roar of the engine. She pumps the throttle and the engines and front propeller spring to life.

“Charlie Mike eleven ready for takeoff,” she says into the microphone.

“Charlie Mike, proceed to two,” he hears from the headset.

“Charlie Mike proceeding to two.”

“Winds one ninety at fifteen, Charlie Mike cleared for takeoff.”

“Here we go,” she says with a grin. Reid holds tighter to his seat as she turns the plane down the runway. She puts the break on just at the turn and her hands work away at the switches and instruments faster than he can keep track of. The engine roars louder and the propeller becomes just a blur before them. They advance down the runway faster and faster, her hand on the throttle, and the asphalt is coming to an end, the grass approaching and he braces himself but then she pulls the yoke down and just like that they are up in the air. So smooth it’s hard to believe, as the burden of gravity seems to fall away. He stares out over the window as they go up and up, the horizon stretching out before them, falling open like an invitation. Like magic.

It’s incredible.

He turns to look at Y/N and she wears an awestruck smile, staring straight ahead and while he’s seen her near Geff so many times and he knows how flying works, it is something else entirely to see her in her element like this. And he thinks that she too, is like magic.

Reid can see how she must have fallen in love with this. The lightness and wonder of it all, the way the world looks from up above. The sensation of lift and defying the pull of the earth.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” she asks.

“It is,” he says, though he’s only partly focusing on the view.

She turns to glance at him and the sunlight on her face and the glow of happiness she wears makes her simply radiant. He thinks back to what she said in Nashville all those months ago. It’s true after all – this is what love feels like. With her, it doesn’t feel like falling at all. It’s like liftoff. It’s like soaring. Up in the air above all odds, with nothing but open sky and sunshine and that weightless wonderful sensation.

It makes sense to him now, why J.M. Barrie wrote that the secret to flying was thinking happy thoughts. He’s sure that by now he’s collected enough with her to keep him high for a very long time.

Three months he has let himself love her. Three months and he is happier than ever. Three months and she is still safe. Three months and love doesn’t feel like such a flight risk anymore. Love is a safe place to land.

[Thank you for reading Flight Risk. Please check around your seat for any personal belongings and use caution when opening the overhead bins, for any feelings you stowed there may have shifted during the flight. If you can, we’d be pleased if you take a moment to share your feedback with our pilots on the way out with a ‘like’ ‘reply’ ‘reblog’ or ‘message’. And on behalf the author, and the entire cast of characters on this flight, thank you for joining us. We hope to see you on board again in the future!]

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #reid x reader #spencer reid x reader #flight risk #brywrites #imagine #spencer reid imagine

[btswritingcafe]

coffee and cakes | drabble event.

Welcome to Btswritingcafe’s first drabble writing game! We have decided as our first prompt team creation that we would make an event available for all BTS writers to join!

Want to know how to participate? Read blow for the guidelines!

— guidelines 

you do not have to be a member to apply

you must be following the network

reblog this post

fill out application

make sure to follow our network guidelines when it comes to written content

you can use as many prompts and scenarios as you would like (there is no limit)

there is no due date for these drabbles, you can write and post whenever you wish

applications are always open so you can apply at any time

you can post more than one drabble but please indicate on the application roughly how many

you must tag your drabble using #cafedrabbles20

if your drabble happens to be longer, such as a whole fic, that is more than okay! generally we are wanting to this event to be drabbles to allow writers to get some inspiration.

you do not have to choose something from each category and you do not have to choose a scenario. simply pick what you would like!

you must be 18+ to use our smut prompts. we will not accept anything from minors on this. we are not lenient when it comes to that.

once you have applied you are free to write! if you are unsure of what you chose, message the network!

OUR MENU

— scenarios

playful banter (and mayhaps some tension) between barista!person a and manager!person b.

person a always gets the same drink and sits in the same spot and mayhaps person b is in love with them. the only thing between them happens to the a counter, maybe person b will be bold?

couple that owns and runs a little cafe together.

cafe-library shop and person a is a librarian and drinks way too much coffee. person b is the barista worried for person a's health.

first date at a cafe.

there's a little fantasy cafe tucked away behind bushes and vines. the owner, mysterious and eccentric, has a secret behind the cafe that should never be seen by mortal eyes.

a budding pastry chef scores a job making cakes at a cute little cafe with a cute owner.

rivalry coffee shops that are only one block apart, one belonging to person a and the other person b. in order to keep small businesses thriving the two bickering owners must partner up to save their cafes.

where person a and person b working together at a cat cafe.

two regular customers happen to meet each other at the same time every single day while waiting for their coffee orders.

— fluff 

“You will never be alone because you will always have me by your side.” 

“You’re the spice to my pumpkin latte.” 

“I can’t concentrate when you look at me like that.” 

“I thought you new that you've always been my favorite.” 

“It doesn’t matter what setting we are in, I’m so comfortable when you are around.” 

 “I’ve wanted this for so long.” 

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” 

“you’re very endearing when you’re half asleep.” 

“this isnt adrenaline, i want to spend my life with you" 

“Do you need a place to stay for the night? Because no matter what, I can be someone you consider home.”

— comedy 

“I like my men like I like my coffee.” “Keeps me up at night.” 

 “No amount of coffee can keep me awake like you do.” 

“should I be concerned with how much caffeine you’re taking in?” 

“I’ll call you by the right name whenever you start to get my order correct.” 

“If looks could kill, you wouldn’t be able to hurt a fly.” 

“Sorry, but whatever’s being measured here has me at a severe disadvantage.” 

“I could kiss you right now!” 

“Call me a tall cup of coffee one more time and this will be the last you see of these fine espresso beans.” 

 “you’re naked!” “You said it was pajama day.” 

“how long have you been standing there?" "longer than you'd like."

— angst 

“Let’s not do this here.” 

“Are (they/he/she) really just a friend?” 

“Stop pretending that everything is okay. It’s not okay.” 

 “this cafe’s all i have. i can’t give this up for you.” 

“I swear it won’t happen again.” 

“Do you want me to leave?” 

 “I thought you changed...I guess I was wrong.” 

 “you need to rest. All you do is work.” “Work is all I have.” 

“You left me. That’s what I want you to remember. It’s not the other way around.” 

 “You said we would be okay. You said that we could make this work.”

— smut 

“what I’m offering is not something you can find on the menu.” 

“I’m looking for a special type of creamer.” 

“I know another way to warm you/me up.” 

“you’re just trying to get me on my knees, aren’t you?” 

“i bet you would look even better without your clothes on." 

“so do you flirt with everyone that comes here/works here or is it just me?" 

“If you complain that its hot one more time, im going to give you a reason to sweat." 

"you think you can just run that pretty mouth of yours whenever you want?" 

"do you have anything better to do later?" 

“i saw that. you just checked me out"

Reminder: there is no deadline! you create whatever you would like with the listed prompts above. take your time and have fun! happy writing! keyword: cafe bliss

— OUR PROMPT TEAM MASTERMINDS

☕️ @joontopia ☕️ @amored ☕️ @namjin-fangirling-again ☕️ @bangtiddies ☕️ @suhdays ☕️

#cafedrabbles20 #network;post #coffeeandcakes #collab event #collab

[adhdeancas]

Sunset Sound: Honey Bee

Chapter 17 is available to read on AO3 too :) 

trigger warning: panic attack/anxiety attack

Dawn has not quite hit when Dean is suddenly blinded by a light. “Son of a- what the fuck?” They’re awake before they can notice, blind fear running in their veins. Dean scrambles for his keys, stomps Baby into drive, and they’re 0 to 80 in seconds. 

The spotlight hits him straight in the corneas again and he swerves and almost runs into a fence lining the road. Cas jumps back into the front seat, tugs the wheel over and they crash through the barbed wire. “Cas, what the hell?”

“We need away from the road!!” Cas explains, holding a hand up to try to fend off the horrible glare. The spotlight fades as they hit forest, Dean swearing left and right as he guides Baby through tight swaths of tree trunks. They abandon her once it gets too much and make a run for it. The spotlight can’t keep up; it pans across trying to find Dean’s plaid in the overgrowth or Cas’s trench coat, but Cas grabs Dean and throws them both into a bush before it can. Dean spits out a leaf and glares at him. “You’re welcome.” Cas mutters back, except it’s breathless, because for some reason beyond the physical exertion, Cas can’t breathe. It’s then that he realizes he’d left the walkie talkie, their only connection to their friends, in the backseat of the car.

He takes in big gulps of air but it doesn’t seem to matter, or maybe those gulps of air do too much, because it feels like his head is floating. He squeezes his eyes shut and just holds onto Dean; he needs to know that he’s still there but the panic in his skull finds the image of him too much.

“Cas?” Dean whispers, and it sounds far off. “Cas.” Cas can feel Dean’s grip on his arms, pulling at his coat sleeves like he’s trying to reel him back in. “You okay? What’s going on?”

Cas shakes his head then nods. “I’m fine, I just- am having trouble-” he takes another gulp of air because he keeps running out, and his confusion mounts. Is this what running normally feels like, to humans? Is it usually so uncomfortable and debilitating? Perhaps his vessel is just woefully - as Dean would say - flabby. Out of shape. 

“Breathing?” Dean gathers from Cas’s exaggerated gasps. The fear in his own chest calms down a little bit now he knows what’s happening. “Cas, it’s alright, look at me,” He puts a hand on his cheek, trying to convince Cas to open his eyes. “Cas, trust me,”

Cas finally does, of course. He takes a breath in and opens his eyes, and it’s a mixture of stunning adrenaline and comfort that goes through his body when he realizes he and Dean are sitting almost on top of each other within the poking branches of the bush. Dean pushes a stick out of his way so Cas can see his eyes clearly. “What’s happening?”

“You’re having a panic attack, doofus,” Dean smiles at him with his best bedside manner. “It’s fine, happens to me all the time. Just-” He grabs hold of Cas’s hand and raises it so Cas can see. “Up means breathe in, down means breathe out.”

“But what if-” Cas throws a glance up, focused completely on the wrath of heaven that could descend upon them at any moment. 

“Since when are we scared of a couple dicks with wings? We’ll be fine. C’mon, have I ever let you down?”

Confidence leaks back into Cas at the reassurance, and a glint reaches his eyes as he says, “Well…”

Dean mimes out a sarcastic laugh and holds their hands up again. “Alright, asshole, breathe,” He lifts their hands slowly, Cas’s breath growing past what he’s comfortable with, then lets them down even slower. Over and over again until it’s all Cas is thinking about, and he knows his heartbeat has stopped hammering so fast against his ribs. It’s still there, the panic still bothers him, but it’s manageable, which he guesses is what Dean is going for. He nods at Dean in thanks.

“I’m okay. We can go.” Dean ignores him to do three more breaths, which Cas grudgingly follows. Then he highers himself into a crouch, still holding Cas’s hand.

Dean pulls him back onto the run and they sprint until they see a cabin in the distance. They make eye contact and agree; they can take whoever owns the cabin, if they need to. It’s Cas who pounds on the door and Dean who peeks in the window, which means he only looks after the owner answers the door and Cas has grabbed him by the throat. 

“Corbett?” 

Cas lets him go almost immediately, but the poor boy’s eyes stay wide. “Uh-D- Dean?” Dean steps up and puts a hand on Cas’s arm, pulling him back to try and make Corbett a little less on edge. It works a little bit; the nervous man withdraws slightly and rubs at his neck. “Dean… Winchester, right?” 

“Yeah,” Dean nods encouragingly and steps in front to ease his way in the cabin. Cas has a hand on his back trying to push him in faster, still aware of heaven’s spotlights looking out for them. “Been a while, buddy. Mind if we-?” He pats Corbett on the shoulder as he just stands there and stutters and Cas and Dean both get to work drawing warding on the walls. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Sigils, to keep the angels off your back,” Dean explains quickly, glancing at the guy’s bewildered expression. “Dude, what are you wearing?” 

Corbett looks down, offended, and puts his hands on his hips. “A robe- I didn’t expect visitors!” The robe is baby blue and it stops above his knees, and Dean raises an eyebrow at it. “Hey!” He throws his hands up. “Listen, I’ll change and all, but what are you doing here? And who is he?” 

“Cas. He’s- well, you can trust him.” 

“...why do I need to trust anyone?” Corbett says suspiciously. He walks over to his bedroom and reemerges wearing actual clothes, not comforted by Dean’s silence. “Do you guys want something to drink- water, coffee?” His politeness takes over by instinct, and he gestures his guests to his table. “Please tell me what’s going on.” 

“Coffee would be great.” Corbett looks over at Cas and he nods the same. “Uh, we got angels on our trail.” 

“And that’s… a bad thing?” 

“I’m not on their good list.” Now it’s Corbett’s turn to raise an eyebrow from the coffee maker. Dean smiles awkwardly. To this poor guy, being on an angel’s shitlist probably isn’t a ringing character endorsement. 

“It’s a long story; promise we’ll tell you some other time. But, uh, you mind if we lay low here for a while?”

Corbett shrugs, not sure he has much of a choice, but he plops down coffees in front of the three of them anyway. “Looks like we have some time then. But, um, Dean… how’s Ed?” The kid looks at Dean hopefully, flashing some puppy-dog eyes that even Sam would be jealous of. Dean looks at Cas for help, but of course Cas has no freaking clue what Dean’s conflicted about. He looks back at him without a care in the fucking world beyond burning his tongue on his coffee.

“He’s good. I mean, not- he’s- he was sad- he mourned you and all, if that’s what you’re asking.” The tips of Dean’s ears turn red and he changes the subject before he can shove his foot in his mouth. Last time Corbett talked to Ed, Ed was pretending to be in love with him. The key word being pretending. “Anyway, so, hate to break it to you but heaven sucks.” 

Cas steps in then, helps soften the blow and explains with more eloquence than Dean could. Corbett takes the news surprisingly well, something about always figuring God was a dick (yeah, growing up gay in the Midwest will do that to you), although the fact that Cas was/is an angel threw him for a loop. 

“So you don’t have, like, wings or anything?”

“I did. I do.” Cas frowns down at the table. After losing all but all of his grace, his wings are but a mangled decoration for him now. Especially being in heaven, not being able to fly around stings, it feels like he is moving in slow motion sometimes. Dean’s hand appears over the table and taps his, his fingers soft and consoling. He pulls back slowly and Cas wishes he would keep touching him. “I can’t fly now, not without my powers.” 

“That sucks.” 

“Yeah.” Cas smiles up at Corbett. The simple openness of this man is making Cas instantly fond of him. It’s a refreshing change of pace from hunters and ethereal creatures’ secretive nature. “It was worth it, though. I’m alive.” 

“... you’re in heaven.” 

Dean snorts, and Cas nods, amused. “I’m not here… naturally. Given the ability, I believe I would be able to traverse back to the mortal realm and live as… well, as a human.” He looks up and meets Dean’s eyes, who looks shaken by the information. 

Cas could go back and live on Earth as just a regular old human, and Dean… Dean’s dead. Dean’s dead at 41 and that’s that. The thought makes his heart sink like a rock in his chest. 

“Well,” Dean stands up and slaps a hand on the table, breaking the quiet of the cabin. “We should probably get going.”

“Wait.” Corbett stands too and grabs Dean’s arm, an action far more forward than he’s used to. “Dean, you gotta… please, tell me. What aren’t you telling me about Ed?” 

Dean sighs, looking around the cabin for a possible exit. His eyes land on a stupid framed photo of Corbett and Ed, taken like a selfie before front-facing cameras existed. His stomach twists in a knot. How is he supposed to ruin this guy’s happiness? He thinks Ed is gonna show up someday and they’re gonna be happy and together and gay in a dumb little gay paradise.

“Please. Dean, the truth.” 

The knot in his stomach twists further and Dean winces. He’s gotta tell him. Better that than the guy getting his heart ripped out when Ed finally shows up and doesn’t want him. He swallows and looks up at Cas, who’s frowning at him in confusion. Dean looks away. Better to look at Corbett. “Uh, listen, Corbett… Ed… he’s not in love with you.” 

Corbett blinks. “Wha- no, he- he said-” 

“Yeah, he lied,” Dean sighs and sits back down heavily. “Sorry dude, but…” He shakes his head. Corbett shakes his right back.

“No, he said he loved me.” 

“I know what he said!” It bursts out of Dean before he can stop it, louder than he meant. He pauses and clears his throat, and the whole cabin is silent. 

Cas puts a hand on Corbett’s shoulder. “I’m sure he meant what he said, in a way.” he says, talking out of his ass. He has no way of knowing what the situation was, but Corbett talks about this Ed man like they were close, friends, pals. 

Corbett keeps his eyes fixed on Dean. Dean sighs and turns his head, looking at the young man again. “Listen, I’m sorry,” But he can’t get another word out before Corbett starts crying. He puts his head in his hands and sobs, and Dean and Cas look at each other helplessly. Cas pats his shoulder, but he shrugs it off. Finally Dean heaves himself up and squats down next to Corbett. He tugs on his hands gently, pulling them away from his face, and Cas imagines this is how Dean dealt with it when Sam cried as a child. “Corbett, man… Ed loved you, just not… listen.” He stops and Cas can practically hear the ‘shit’ in his head as he searches for the right words. “Ed loved you enough to tell you he loved you, just so you’d be able to move on. To save you.” his voice is steadier now, quiet and firm. Cas stills, just listening. “And maybe he doesn’t want to come up here and shack up and watch Desperate Housewives, but,”

Cas watches Dean’s train of thought trail away as he catches his eye. He holds his gaze, and Dean looks heartbroken. He looks insecure. He looks like he did that night in the barn, when Cas recognized his self-loathing without a second thought. Now, the expression causes Cas physical pain, and he wants to reach out and soothe him. Instead, he just stares as Dean continues talking without taking his eyes off him. 

“I mean, he probably still wants to, y’know, have a beer or something. And that’s shitty, it’s-  disappointing as fuck but… you gotta respect that.” He clears his throat and finally looks down. “Everything’s shitty right now.”

“Everything’s shitty.” Corbett agrees, sniffing. He was too lost in his own misery to notice the considerable tension in the room. Cas can’t get the image of Dean’s face out of his head, his words playing like a broken tape-deck over and over.

The rest of the goodbyes are said through a haze of Cas’s thoughts screaming at him, and it isn’t until they get back to the car, fuzzy small talk half-remembered, that Cas gets up the courage to say something. Still, he waits minutes into the car ride, because he doesn’t want to seem like he has been waiting to get into the car. The logic makes no sense but it controls him, and it makes his voice quaver when he finally says, “Dean?” 

“Yeah,” Dean smacks his lips and glances at him once, fingers tapping the wheel to the beat of the radio. 

“Why did you want me?” 

Dean furrows his eyebrows and looks at Cas like he doesn’t understand the question. “Why did I…?”

“Why did you bring me- to go with you to the Garden.” Cas clarifies. Helpfully. Almost confidently, if he’s being generous with himself. 

Dean gives him an incredulous glance. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t have my powers, Dean. There are angels you could have brought with you that are far more powerful. Or, if you wanted to attract less attention, there are plenty of hunters who could slip under the radar, who are more skilled in combat.” Cas tries not to let his self-doubt seep into the words. He’s not sure if it works, because Dean shifts uncomfortably in his seat. 

“I dunno, because I didn’t want to bring those other guys,” he says defensively.

“Dean,” Cas pushes, insistent. His heart is speeding up in his chest and he feels like he might explode if he keeps going, but he has to. His momentum is already started, and the look in Dean’s eyes as he’d talked to Corbett is giving him strength. 

“What!” Dean sounds annoyed now, but it’s just more defense. He’s starting to feel like he’s being cornered into doing something terrible, like telling the truth.

“Dean.”

“Because I like you?” 

It’s even and it’s uncertain and it’s vulnerable. Dean is scared as hell, but then he looks at Cas and he gets terrified. A flicker of hurt passes across Cas’s face, and it’s so severe even Dean can’t miss it. 

Cas feels like a child. He feels like he’s being spoken to like a child. He had expected… but that was too much. Instead of simplicity and vulnerability, he heard patronization. “You don’t need to do that Dean.”

“Do what? I do like you, man. We’re- friends. Didn’t think I needed to spell that out for you.” Dean laughs nervously, completely un-fucking-aware of what is going on right now. 

Cas looks at his lap. “Claire has explained to me what ‘friendzone’ means, and I assure you, it’s unnecessary. It always has been.” Feeling is excruciating.

Dean sputters. He had not expected the word “friendzone” to come out of Cas’s mouth like… ever. “I don’t- I haven’t-”

“You’ve called me your brother multiple times.” Humiliation burns across Cas’s face. 

“No, no, I don’t mean it like- I’m not trying to friendzone you…” Dean laughs, a little crazed that he’s actually in this conversation. More that he’s about to- “I just- I want you around…  because I like having you around. I want you around because I like seeing you and I like your grumpy little jokes and I like your dumb info dumps about plants and I like watching movies with you you’re only watching to humor my dumb ass…” Dean trails off, the little bit of pink in his cheeks matching Cas’s. “Listen, Cas, you’re not like a brother to me. I mean, I love my brothers, but I don’t love them like that.” He swallows, looking at the road in front of them. It stretches quiet and unremarkable, like it has no idea the progress being made in this old hunk of well-shaped metal. “Like this.”

He keeps facing straight ahead, fingers tapping out of beat against the wheel now. Cas is dumbstruck. The car is filled with the heaviness of it. It’s finally out there. Dean loves him. Cas looks over at Dean, and lights throw his face into half shadow, and he looks beautiful. Cas reaches out and grabs his hand off the wheel and holds it in his own. Dean keeps driving. One handed.

tag list: 

@dochunterwitch  @justonecitizenoftheearth @gnbrules @purpe @castiel-is-a-cat @alienapparatus @damian-janus-pendragon

#sunset sound #chapter 17 #honey bee #deancas #destiel #fanfic #destiel fanfic #my writing #fix it fic

[spooderboyandtincan]

So let’s say our boy Peter’s sick

(A classic trope, I know, but.....................)

And of course, he doesn’t tell anyone, but his very intelligent aunt knows her nephew/ son, and as soon as she sees him, she’s like “Peter, honey. You’re sick. Get back to bed, I’ll make you soup.”

But apparently, he was worse than she thought and comes down with a bad fever. He keeps saying that he’s freezing and so so cold, but in reality he’s burning up. He keeps crying for Tony, and of course May immediately calls the man. 

“Tony, you need to get here now!”

She can here his sharp intake of breath as it speeds up and can almost hear his heart rate increase. “Peter?! Is Pete okay? Fuck, May, tell me he’s okay!” he cries, voice trembling. She can hear him suiting up in the background. 

“Tony, he keeps calling for you- he’s sick, you need a doctor. He has a temperature of 105 degrees.” She sounded scared.

That’s bad. That’s really bad. Peter Peter please be okay please please 

I need you

He distantly heard FRIDAY calling Cho, saying that the proper medical services were on their way. He heard her say to slow his breathing down, heard her say that she was taking control of the suit. But none of it mattered. Peter mattered. 

~~~~~

When Tony finally burst through the door of the apartment, his suit already halfway off, May had the tiny boy in her arms, sitting on the couch as he moaned, ready to hand him over to the doctors. 

“Peter!” was the first word to come out of the man’s mouth as he rushed over to his son. Kneeling by the Parkers, he brushed the child’s sweaty hair from his forehead. “Hey there, spiderbaby. You feeling sick? That’s okay, we’re gonna get you all fixed up. Don’t you worry, tesoro. Just focus on being okay,” he rambled fearfully. 

Peter didn’t get sick. He had his powers. His super immune system. Was something wrong? It had to be. He was never sick. Peter was never sick.

“His temp is the same, he keeps asking for you, saying he’s cold,” May said calmly, taking control. “You tell him you’re here while I make a cold compress.” 

“Yeah. Of course. Of course.” He gathered Peter into his arms, cradling him against his chest. “Hey Pete,” he whispered, rocking back and forth. “I’m here, don’t worry. You’re okay, kiddo. You’re gonna be just fine.”

A long moment passed as he nervously asked FRIDAY when medical would be there, when his stupor was broken by a small, familiar voice. “ ‘Ony?” He looked down, surprised, at his baby’s hot, flushed face. 

“There you are! Look at you, piccolo. You’re doing great. Focus on me, okay? Just look at me.” 

Peter only groaned in response. “Don’ feel good. Cold. Hot.” Suddenly, tears began to flow down the poor kid’s face.

“Oh, no, no bambino, please don’t cry, it’s okay Pete,” Tony begged. He would never say so, but Peter’s tears caused him physical pain. 

“Hur’s,” the boy whimpered. 

“Can you tell me what hurts, baby?” Tony asked gently.

Peter sniffed and whispered “Side. Bad.” More tears trickled down. 

His side? That made no sense. Tony frowned and gently peeled Peter’s soft, fuzzy spider man pajama sweater from his hot skin. And what he saw... nearly made him pass out. “Peter. Oh fuck. Oh god. Peter.” 

Because his child’s stomach was covered in thick, sticky blood. “Fuck, no. No no no no. Peter!” 

At that moment, in Tony’s pure, uncontrollable fear and panic, May chose to hurry in, brandishing a cold cloth. “Is everything okay? Tony? Ohmygod- Peter!!”

~~~~~

Cho and the med team rushed in only five minutes later, having been informed that Peter’s condition was worse than they had previously thought. There they saw the two parents, scared out of their minds and urging Peter to stay awake and focus on them. 

“Tony.” They both looked up to see the doctor. 

“Help him. Help him, please,” the man whispered. 

The team rushed forward with a stretcher, pulling the small boy from his father’s strong arms and already hurrying downstairs to the ambulance. Tony and May raced along with them, each holding a limp hand.

~~~~~

Peter needed surgery. His bullet wound (as they later found out) had been infected and required treatment. Tony sat in the waiting room, huddled on the couch with May, trying to control his breathing and erratic heart rate. All he could think was Please please be okay Peter I need you I need you Peter I was supposed to protect you how did this happen. May’s fingers held his hand tightly, trying to ground him, but it wasn’t helping much. He was so scared. Because Peter didn’t tell, neither did Karen, or FRIDAY. It was his fault, he should have noticed. Did Peter hack his AIs? They were supposed to be un-hackable for that reason. And now he was in surgery. 

Peter made it out without much issue. He didn’t wake up during the procedure, thankfully, but Cho said that he would be unconscious for some time as his super immune system tried to heal. He wasn’t in a coma, just asleep, she explained. He’d wake up. 

That was all Tony needed to hear before he raced to Peter’s room in the medbay. The room was dark, the curtains closed, though there was a small lamp on the bedside table. A heart monitor was beeping steadily, but he only had eyes for Peter. Peter, who lay still and silent, dressed in a hospital gown and covered with wires. He had a nasal cannula and a thick white bandage around his waist. 

Tony rushed to his small son, sitting in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs and taking his cold hand. He immediately began rubbing it gently, trying to warm it. After a long silence, the man spoke quietly. “Hey Pete. How’re you feeling? Cold? Your fever went down but it’s still there. But you’re gonna be just fine, baby. I’ll make sure of it.” You just have to wake up.

Please. You’re scaring me.

~~~~~

May joined them later, pulling up a hard chair and handing Tony coffee, which he accepted but didn’t drink. 

“Stop.” He jumped as May spoke suddenly. 

“What?”

“You’re being too hard on yourself, Tony. This isn’t your fault.”

It isn’t my fault that my kid is a hospital bed, needing help to fucking breathe? “Right.”

“Tony,” May said firmly. “I know how you feel. Every time Peter comes home injured, he says he’s fine. He usually is, but sometimes it’s too much. I still blame myself sometimes, but I can’t keep him from going out and getting hurt. It’s what he loves.”

“But I should have known. I have protocols, ways to keep this from ever happening, it’s not supposed to happen, ever. And he- he fucking hacked the system, and that’s my fault.”

“It’s your fault he’s a genius?” she asked calmly. 

“It’s supposed to be un-hackable. For this reason,” he said, trying to hide the fear and left-over adrenaline shaking his voice. 

“Tony, that’s-” 

They both looked down, shocked to hear coughing. “Peter?”

The boy looked barely awake, sick and flushed, but awake all the same.

“Oh god, baby, hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re fine,” Tony murmured bending down and pressing a kiss to his temple. The child continued to cough hoarsely, moaning. “Get a doct-” May was already gone to fetch Cho.

“Mis’er St’rk?” he slurred, confused and disoriented.  

“Right here, bambino, I’m right here,” the man comforted. 

“Mmm. Hur’s.” 

Tony felt his heart clench. “I know, I’m sorry tesoro, we’re gonna fix that soon, okay? You’re fine, Pete. It’s okay.” He knew he was nervous and his words barely made sense, but it was all he could think to do. 

At that moment Cho rushed in, May behind her. 

“Hello, Peter,” she said calmly. “I’m surprised you’re awake.” She pulled a needle from her coat. “Can you tell me what hurts?”

“Mmm.” Tony squeezed his hand comfortingly. “Ev’rythin’?”

“Alright, Peter. It may take a bit but this will help your pain.” She injected the syringe into his IV and replaced it in her pocket. Turning to an extremely worried Tony, she said, “This will probably knock him out. I don’t know how he woke up so soon; even with his metabolism he doesn’t burn through these so quickly.”

“But he’s okay?” Tony asked, peering intently at the boy, who’s eyes were now closed as his breathing evened out. 

“He will be. He does need to heal, though, Tony, and it’s your job- and May’s- to keep him on bed rest for the rest of the week, at least.”

May laughed quietly as she took her seat. “Oh, he’ll hate that.” Tony nodded in agreement, smiling. 

The man finally, finally relaxed (though just slightly) when he realized that his son would be okay. Because he had to be okay. He pressed several kisses to Peter’s soft cheeks and curled into the chair, still holding his hand.

Whether the boy would be fine after May chewed him out, that was a different question.

#look at this trash #irondad and spiderson #irondad #spiderson #whump #angst #hurt/ comfort #hidden wounds #protective tony stark #precious peter parker #fever #tw blood #don't you dare tag as st*rker #eww #bad medical knowledge #no medical knowledge #poor bby peter

[fredweesleyismyslut]

As Long as I Can See You  Steve Rogers x reader

A/N:  So, hey guyssssss!  I signed up for summer classes basically last minute and let me tell you Developmental psych is kicking my ass, I literally have never learned so much about babies before.  Anyways, I decided to write this because I was procrastinating doing my reading, don’t be like me guys, and my mind was rushing with caffeine because apparently I thought it was a good idea to drink coffee at 11pm so if it sucks that’s why haha.  So, I hope you guys enjoy this I kinda got some inspiration on this idea from the kdrama Crash Landing on You in the scene when Seri gets kidnapped and Jung hyuk is all like “Tell me where you are...as long as you’re in my sights I’ll keep you safe.” or something along the lines of that.  So, I might do a part two of this if my coffee brain lasts for another hour but enjoy and definitely check out Crash Landing on You if you guys like kdramas!

Staring at the small, neatly wrapped red box in your hands you smiled, humming quietly to yourself as you practically danced up to the front door of the house you shared with Steve, your boyfriend, or better known as Captain America.  He was out on a mission for the past week but was suppose to be coming home tonight.  You had bought a small surprise in celebration of him coming back and to celebrate your one year anniversary.  “I really hope Steve likes this,” you muttered to yourself, losing yourself in your thoughts as you unlocked the door.  As you walked in, an eerie feeling took over your body, the kind of skin prickling feeling that you get when it feels as if someone is watching you.  The hairs on your arm raised in reaction to the feeling as you looked around, nothing seemed out of place you thought to yourself as you slowly crept in.  Looking around for signs of anyone being inside or some type of disruption you set the small box down on the counter.  In the reflection of the microwave, you noticed a figure looming behind you as suddenly a gloved hand clamped over your mouth.  Your body tensed quickly before you forced yourself to relax, remembering what Steve had taught you briefly during a quick lesson on self-defense.  You relaxed your body and forced yourself to think as you quickly grabbed the box cutter you had left on the counter that morning while opening mail, and quickly turned as you slashed the attacker’s arm.  A deep voice grunted at the impact as a couple of drops of blood dripped to the wooden floor of the kitchen.  “Fuck…” the man’s voice muttered as he looked up, hair long and unkempt with a slight beard.  He looked as though he had just fought with a bear and barely managed to escape with his clothes equally as disheveled and messy as his hair.  You heard the blood pumping in your ears from the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you took a fighting stance, He doesn’t seem to have any weapons….I could maybe take him if I keep some distance, you thought to yourself.  You weren’t heavily built nor did you know five different types of martial arts but you still knew how to survive.  As you thought this you heard more footsteps coming from upstairs.  Eyes widening at the thought that there were more of them you felt slight panic start to rise in your thoughts.  You could barely fight off one guy, more than one was probably pushing your luck even if you had been slightly trained by the oh so famous Captain America.  Looking around the room for some type of escape your mouth started to speak without thinking, “What do you want from me?”  The man glared up at you, “We don’t want anything from you girl.”  Confusion placed itself in your head as you worked through his thick accent, probably Russian, as you realized they probably wanted to use you against Steve but no one knew you two were dating besides the Avengers members.  “So what is it that you want then?  Money?”  The man scoffed mouth opening to answer till another voice answered, “Stop giving out answers, Mikhail.”  Mikhail...now I know at least one of their names, you thought to yourself as you paced back more trying to create more distance.  

Suddenly, the sound of glass shattering surrounded you as you slid to the ground, dust flying around the kitchen making it hard to see and breathe.  The only thing you remember was the smell of wood-burning from the ground and the sweaty feeling of perspiration from your neck and hands as you crawled around on the floor.  Next thing you knew you were awake in the back of a car and all you could see was darkness.  The sound of shuffling surrounded you as the ground rumbled beneath you, they must’ve been driving in a not well-paved area.  The sheet was pulled from your head and you counted out three men in the back all wearing variations of black with some type of symbol in the corner of their sleeves, the symbol didn’t look like Hydra’s symbol however, it looked more like a simple star encased in something.  One of the men, Mikhail from earlier, pulled out your phone and placed it to your ear.  “Talk and say you’re leaving but say a word about what’s happening and…well you’ll see...” the man said.  The dial tone ringed as you heard a familiar voice, “Y/n, what’s wrong?  I’m almost back home we were running a little late because Bucky wanted to grab some food.”  Your voice choked at the sound of his voice as one of the other men, short-cropped black hair with green eyes placed a gun to your head and nodded his head towards the phone.  “Ummm...yeah.” you choked out, “I’m fine I just I’m leaving early for my business trip, Jeff wanted me to prepare a presentation.”  Steve’s voice laced with concern as he replied, “Is something wrong?  You never said anything about a business trip.”  you could hear the panic rising in his voice as he asked, “What do you see y/n?  Or do you hear anything?”  “No, baby, I’m...I’m fine.  I just wanted to say that I-I love you.”  Your voice cracked from stress as you tried to hold back tears as he started to shout through the phone.  “Tell me what you see y/n!  I promise I’ll find you, you know I will.  As long as I can see you I’ll always keep you safe, just please...please”  his voice took on a pleading tone as you continued to choke back sobs, hearing the tone of his voice.  “I don’t see anything babe...I love you, Ste..” the phone cut off and the last thing he heard was the gun clicking as the trigger pulled and the bullet went through the roof of the car as it lurched forward.  You tumbled in the car, blood rushing in your ears as the momentum of the world-circling in front of you.  You’re pretty sure you hit at least several different parts of your head as a ringing takes place in your ears and something trickled down your forehead.  The last thing that you can think over and over again as your vision goes hazy is...I love you, Steve Rogers and you swear you can almost smell the scent of his cologne as your vision finally fails and the world goes dark.

#captain america #steve rogers #rogers #steve #avengers #chris evans #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader #captain america x you #captain america x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x reader #x reader #avengers x fem!reader #avengers x reader #marvel #marvel x reader

[backtobackbakubabe]

I’m Gonna Make This Place Your Home

Bakugo X Reader 

Runaway reader finds a home with Bakugo. But will trouble follow?

Warnings * This one is a little heavier than stuff I have written in the past. Kidnapping and mentions of abuse. 

Words: 3676

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

This was the third night in a row he had woken up in a cold sweat. This had been happening periodically for months but it had been happening more frequently lately. It was the same dream over and over again. It would always start as a normal dream but before he knew it, there was a girl maybe a year or two younger than he was. She was always dressed in the same shitty dress. Her hair wild and tangled. But  nothing was more haunting than her eyes. They were so sad and scared. She was always reaching out to him, her lips moving but no noise coming out. He desperately wanted to know what she was saying, but he never got the chance. He’d always wake up panting and angry. 

It didn't matter what time it was he always got up after that and went for a run. There was no going back to sleep after that. Those eyes were burned into his brain. Every time he closed his eyes he could see that scared look, and it crushed him. 

He didn't even know this girl. At least he didn’t think he did. He read somewhere that your brain can’t invent new people so all the people in your dreams where people you had seen before. 

Was she someone he had saved in the past. No he would have remembered her, he could tell she was pretty even if she was underfed and covered in dirt. Was she someone he saw in a movie or on TV? That had to be it. The only problem was he had been so busy with hero work he hadn't had the time to relax and watch anything in months. He was in his first year as a Pro Hero and he was working relentlessly to make sure everyone knew his name. 

He poured himself a cup of coffee and took a look at the clock. 4 am. Fuck he had only been asleep for a little over two hours. He rubbed his temples. He had to report to work in six hours. Maybe he should just go in early. If he’s going to be awake he might as well get paid for it. 

He sluggishly got dressed and drained the rest of his coffee. Thank god today was supposed to be a short day anyways. He didn't know if he could make it through another 24 hour shift. 

The ding of the elevator sounded louder than usual, and in his exhausted grumpy state he took it very personally. As if the elevator knew he was tired and wanted to taunt him. 

He walked over to his desk and threw his bag that held his costume onto it before slumping into his chair. 

“Wow. dont take this wrong way. But you kind of look like shit.” He looked over to the cheery as hell red head that he usually would consider his best friend, “How the hell am I not supposed to take that the wrong way?”

Kirishima rubbed the back of his neck, “I mean you just look tired is all. Speaking of which shouldn't you be asleep right now? Your shift doesn't start until 10. I know you’re punctual and all but four hours early seems a bit extreme.” 

He leaned back in his chair attempting to rub the exhaustion from his eyes, “I’m fine. I have paperwork to catch up on before my shift starts anyways.” 

Kirishima gave him a concerned look, “You hate paperwork man. What’s really going on?”

He debated for a few seconds if he should say anything, but then decided it might help to actually to talk about it with someone. “I’ve been having these weird dreams... Theres always this girl-”

“A girl! ooooh is she pretty?” 

He gave the red head an annoyed look. 

“Oh right not important. Continue. Sorry.”

He rolled his eyes, “Yes she is pretty. Anyways. She keeps popping into my dreams. It looks like she needs help but I can never hear her. She’s dirty and way too skinny and I dont know.. Its just messing with my head.” 

Kirishima seemed to ponder on that for a bit, “Do you recognize the girl? Like is she someone you know?” 

Bakugo sighed, “No, at least I dont think I do.” 

Kirishima nodded, “What is she doing in these dreams?” 

“I dont know. I guess she’s reaching out to me. At least that’s what it looks like.” 

Kirishima brought his hand up tp his chin as if he was Sherlock Holmes solving a case, “Why dont you take her hand then? If she’s reaching out to you, it must mean she wants you to right?” 

Bakugo threw his hands up in defeat, “I dont fucking know! Even if I wanted to it’s not like I have complete control over my dreams. I’m asleep for fucks sake.” 

Kirishima rolled his eyes, “Alright grumpy gills. I think you need a nap. And this time if any girls happen to stroll through your dreams at least try to hold their hand and see where that gets you. Alright? I’ll handle your paperwork and come wake you up when it’s time for your shift.” 

He wanted to argue but even after 3 cups of coffee he was utterly exhausted. He couldn't work like this. Kirishima was right. He needed a nap. 

He curled up on one of the couches in the break room and fell asleep almost instantly. His dreams started out normal enough. Nothing odd in any way and then out of no where. There she was. Reaching out to him. Her eyes terrified, a silent scream on her lips. 

He was supposed to do something. What was it? Oh yeah. He slowly reached his hand out to hers. It seemed to go so slowly as if he was moving through molasses. His muscles hurt from the effort of forcing his arm up to meet hers. 

Finally his fingers brushed against hers... and he heard it. 

Her voice rang out loud and clear. “Help me Ground Zero! Please!” 

He gripped her hand tighter, “Who are you? What do you want?” 

The girl started to cry, “No time for that now. They’re onto me! Where are you?”

Bakugo flinched, “I’m at work at All Mights new agency.” 

She nodded her head in understanding and for the first time ever she left before he woke up.

Next thing he knew he was being shook awake, “Come on man time to get up! Tell your dream girl you’ll call her back later.” 

He shot straight up, “I did it...”

“That’s great..... what did you do?” 

Bakugo stood up his body coursing with adrenaline, “I touched her hand... and I heard her! She asked me for help and asked me where I was.” 

Kirishima looked at him like he had lost it, “Alright crazy pants enough of that. You know its a dream right? As in it’s not real. This is real, we are real, and you’re really about to be late if you dont hurry up and get changed.” 

Bakugo spent the rest of his shift on high alert. He looked around every corner to see if you were there. You were real. He doesn't now how, but he knows that to be true. He knew he couldn't say that out loud without sounding like a escaped mental patient but his heart kept telling him you needed him. 

Your voice played on an endless loop through his head. It drowned out everything else including Kirishima's annoying consistent ramble. 

The day flew by faster than usual which Bakugo was extremely grateful for. He was practically running out the door with Kirishima yelling after him about meeting up for drinks later. Yeah that wasn’t happening. 

He had taken all of three steps out of the building when he was being tackled. Well tackled wasnt exactly the right word, because that would imply that he fell, which he did not. Instead he lost his balance for a second before turning to see the source. 

It was her. It was you. 

“Shit shit shit. You’re real. I knew it! What are you doing here? Who are you?” 

You looked up at him with desperate eyes, “Get me out of here. They’re after me! I promise I’ll tell you everything just please get me somewhere safe.” 

He looked around to see if anyone was watching, but no one was around. He grabbed your hand and started walking towards his apartment, “I only live a few bocks from here. Think you can make it that far?” 

You nodded. If only he knew how far you had already come to find him. 

Soon enough you were being dragged through the door to his apartment. He lead you to the kitchen table and immediately began to pace back and forth in front of you. He suddenly stopped and looked at you, his eyes boring into yours. “Alright are you going to tell me who the fuck you are and what the fuck is going on?” 

You flinched a bit at his angry voice but quickly reminded yourself that he was good, he wouldnt hurt you. You composed yourself the best you could under the circumstances, “My name is Y/n. I was kidnapped as a child by a group of villains. They have been using my quirk to their advantage for years. I finally managed to get out and come find you.” 

He pulled a chair up so he could sit and face you, “Okay but why me? Out of all the people in the world why me? How were you in my head?” 

You looked down into your lap where your fingers were gripping the hem of your dirty dress, “My quirk allows me to enter people dreams. I'm a dream walker. But it cant be just anyone. I have to have seen their face and I have to know their name. I was a child when they took me. I didn't know any better. I thought they were my family. It wasnt until I got older that I realized how wrong what they were doing was. They would have me enter peoples dreams to get them to confess things, gain information, plant ideas... One day I fought back and tried to reach out for help. The only problem was I didn't know anyone... everyone I knew was a villain. All the people that I had visited in dreams before wouldn't listen to me. And why should they. I betrayed them. I entered their dreams, and stole their private information. Even if they wanted to help, I had no idea where I was... there was no way for them to find me.” 

He reached out and took your hand in his, “I’m so sorry that happened to you.... but you still haven't answered my question... why me?” 

He may be a bit insensitive but he still had no idea who you were and he didn't want to run the risk of this being some weird twisted trap. 

You wiped a tear from your dirt stained cheeks. “One night I snuck out of my room t- to try and get something to eat.... and the news was on, on the tv in the kitchen. It was an interview with you. I saw your face and I heard the name Ground Zero.  That’s all I got before I was being dragged back to my room and was pumped full of so many drugs so I couldnt use my quirk.” 

You were shaking now, “I dont know why and I cant explain it. But I felt a weird connection with you. Every day I repeated your name over and over again through my drugged state so I wouldn't forget it. I kept telling myself you were going to save me. Finally I was able to push through the drugged haze to reach out to you. To walk into your dream.”

Bakugo’s head was spinning, “Is that why I couldnt hear you? Because you were drugged?” 

You shook your head, “No, I have to have permission to truly be in someones head, you had to touch me, to acknowledge me before I can talk to you.” 

He took a deep breath, “Well I’m sorry I didn't do it sooner.... So how did you get here.” 

You started messing with the hem or your dress again, “They decided to move me to a different location. Said I was being too difficult and needed to be taught a lesson. I jumped out of the back of a moving van. I didn't know where I was going but I found my way to the city and asked the first person I saw for directions.” 

Bakugo was leaning towards you now, completely invested in the story, “Why didn't you go to the police?”

You sighed, “I dont know who to trust. They have moles everywhere. I cant risk showing up on a police report. They’d find me.” 

He nodded for a few moments thinking it over. “Ok.... well... I have a spare bedroom you are more than welcome to use. It looks like you need some food and it smells like you need a shower. The bathroom is down the hall, do you like spicy food?”

Your eyes widened, “Does that mean you’ll let me stay?”

He huffed, “Well I’m not going to fucking kick you out to rough it on the streets! Now do you like spicy food or not?” 

You shrugged as you tried to hold back the relieved tears that threatened to spill out, “I dont know. I’ve never had spicy food. I was only ever fed white rice. Sometimes if I did a good job they would add chicken.” 

He gave you a sad look, “Alright so I’ll go easy with the seasoning. Take your time, relax and I’ll get you some clean clothes.” 

You nodded as you walked carefully over to the bathroom he had pointed out earlier. You were almost too scared to touch anything. You didn't want to do anything that would make him change his mind. 

The shower felt so good. You couldnt remember the last time you had, had a shower. It had to have been during what you called your cooperative phase. They were so nice to you then. Before you realized they were all monsters. You had a nice soft bed, your own bathroom, and so many books to read. When you fought back everything had changed. 

You could see all the mud and dried blood swirling around before it went down the drain. You decided then and there that this was goodbye to your old life. If you could even call it a life. It was all going down the drain as well and you were never going back.

When you finally stepped out of the shower there was a warm looking hoodie as well a a pair of shorts and boxers sitting on the bathroom counter. The hoodie hung down to your knees and you had never felt so warm and fuzzy. You didn't know it was possible for an article of clothing to feel... safe. 

You walked out into the hallway and could hear hushed voices, you panicked. Had they already found you? 

“Dude I heard the shower running and you’re cooking... you definitely have a girl over! Who is it?”

“Will you shut up! She’ll hear you!”

“You DO have a girl over!” 

“Will you just fucking leave already? I promise I’ll tell you about it later. Tell the director I won't be able to make it work for the next few days. I’m uh.. sick.” 

“Sick huh?”

“Yeah I’m sick... sick of your shit, now leave!” 

You couldnt help it you giggled. It sounded so weird but it was undeniably a giggle. You felt a weight start to slowly lift from your shoulders. 

You waited until you heard the door shut before leaving the safety of the hallway and joining Ground Zero at the diner table. Your mouth started to water and you stomach rumbled, it all looked so good. You looked over to him, unsure if it would be rude to just dig in. 

He froze with a spoon midway to his mouth, “What? Are you waiting for permission or something? Fuck that just eat.” 

Your eyes lit up as you started to drain your bowl or soup first, immediately followed by mountain of noodles. It all tasted so good, “Thank you so much Ground Zero. This is delicious. You are an amazing cook.” 

You could see him blush a bit before shoving another bite into his mouth numbing a quick, “It’s Bakugo.”

You both sat in an awkward silence, eating until you were both fat and happy. When you finally decided you were done you leaned back into you seat. “That had to be the best meal I’ve ever had.”

Bakugo stood up and started collecting the dishes, “Dont take this the wrong way but it’s not like your pallet was all that expanded before.” He could see hurt flash over your features briefly before you schooled them back to neutral. He tried to salvage this conversation, “But dont worry I’ll try to stay away from cooking rice. I have a feeling you've had enough of that.”

You smiled as you stood up to help, “Here you cooked, the least I could do is clean up.” 

He took the plate that was in your hand, “Maybe next time... You’ve had a shower, you’ve been fed, now you just need to get a good nights sleep.” He gestured over to the hallway. “The bedroom at the end of the hall is mine. The one thats closest to us right now it the guest bedroom and the they're connected by the bathroom. I’ve been told I snore so I will apologize in advance for that. Go ahead and make yourself at home. There’s a tv and everything.” When you didn't move he gave you a light hearted nudge in the direction of the bedroom. “Honestly dont worry about it. I got it from here. Go get some sleep.” 

You weren't used to someone taking care of you and it made you feel suspicious. This was too good to be true. But you were also too tired to dwell too much. For the first time in a long time you were clean, full, and you actually have a bed to sleep in. Besides Ground Zero was a hero. Theres no way he’d do something to hurt you.... right? 

You tip toed over to your new room and marveled at how comfortable the bed looked. You pulled your pants off, opting for just the hoodie and boxers. Burrowing into the covers with your pile of comfy pillows beneath you, you practically hummed in comfort. You rolled over and saw Bakugo through the bathroom. He was also getting ready for bed in the dim light of his bedside lamp. He gave you a soft smile before closing his door. 

You weren't necessarily a fan of closed doors. You cant lock a door that isn't closed after all. But you felt safe none the less. You knew he was just in the other room. So you found yourself drifting off. 

You were back in your old room. Nothing but a bucket and a stained pillow so thin it may as well have just been a pillow case. You could smell the contents of the bucket in the corner and it made you want to puke. It was freezing but all you had for warmth was the thin tattered dress you wore. Your body hurt from how hard you were shivering. The pain in your stomach the worst of all. They hadn't fed you in a few days. Saying only good girls deserve food. You huddled further into yourself as you heard the deadbolt to what may as well have been your cell click. Someone was coming in. What do they want? The big guy walked in. The one with the crooked nose. “Time to take your medicine.” You thrashed around and tried to resist but he just held you down, laughing that sickly laugh that would haunt you forever. 

“NO!” 

You shot up in bed. Your face was soaked with tears. You felt a strong grip on you shoulder. You swung into the darkness and felt your fist connect with something solid. 

“Oi! relax its just me. You were having a nightmare. Thought I’d come wake you up.” 

You rubbed your eyes, “I’m so sorry I didn't mean to wake you.” 

He turned on the lamp on your nightstand, “It’s okay, it’s not like I have to work tomorrow anyways....” He was lost. He wanted to comfort you but he didn't want to crowd you. He also just met you today and shouldn't have such a strong urge to wrap his arms around you. But he does and he doesn't know how he feels about it. “So... do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, “I’d rather not. I just want to forget all about it...”

Bakugo nodded, “Thats fair... well if you need anything I’ll be right through there.” He pointed through the doors to his room. 

You bit your lip as you mustered up your courage, “Do you think you could... I mean you totally dont have to... but if its okay with you... could you... possibly stay with me until I fall asleep?” 

He quirked an eyebrow at you, “Uh... sure. I guess. That’s fine.”

You quickly snuggled back into your side of the bed and he got comfortable on his. He took a look at your sleeping face and felt his heart start to ache. You hadn't needed to tell him about your nightmare because you had already shown it to him. You had subconsciously pulled him into your dream and he had a front row seat to the horrors of your past. He reached out and brushed a stray hair away from your sleeping face. He’ll be damed if anyone tried to hurt you again. 

#bakugo #bakugo katsuki #Katsuki Bakugō #bhna bakugou #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #bnha #bnha fanfiction #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo imagine #mha #mha imagines #mha bakugou #mha x reader #my hero academia #mha x y/n

[angelicspaceprince]

Dewey x Crafter Reader Headcanons

Ive fallen down a rabbit hole of crafting and I can't get up. Help me. I write hcs to help save my soul

I'll also edit when I have computer access so then there is a read more button or whatever they're called, I can't find it on mobile

Wrote directly onto the tumblr app so if there are any mistakes that's why. No betas, we die by our spelling and grammar mistakes here

You were a crafter before you met Dewey, having taken up most crafts by the time you were 17

Sewing, needlepoint, embroidery, cross stitch, knitting, crocheting

You'd experimented with them all and even though each one had its merits, you definitely had your favourites

Then life happened. You had to start working, unable to attend college, and soon you had no time to craft. If you were awake, you were working

Mostly low paying jobs to cover rent, bills etc, taking on as many shifts as possible

It was actually during one of your shifts you met Dewey

You started working at a local music shop, mostly serving and organising CDs when a very excited Dewey rocked up, wanting to find the newest release for one of his favourite bands

You got to talking and realised that you had similar music tastes and, even though you really wanted to get to know him more, you had to remain professional. You were still on the clock

Luckily for you, however, you were invited to go see a group of local bands performing to celebrate your friend's birthday

You recognized Dewey the moment he stepped on stage and was in awe at his musical skill

You figured it'd be weird to go up to him and start talking because a) if he didn't recognize you then having a stranger come up to you and say that you remembered him from work would be odd and b) if he DID recognize you from work that'd be even odder

You didn't want to give off stalker vibes, so you stayed at the bar, content just to leave it

Dewey, however, saw you in the crowd and had a different plan in mind

Still riding the adrenaline high from being on stage, he walked straight up to you

"I don't know if you remember me, bu-"

"I remember you."

"Oh."

You both blushed heavily as you shift in your seat. "Drink?" You offered. "I....I liked talking to you earlier, I'd like to talk some more."

Dewey positively beamed at that, sitting down next to you as you effectively start ignoring your friend's birthday party celebrations in favour of talking to the man in front of you

The rest, as they say, was history

You ended up dating pretty quickly after you first met, moving in with each other after only dating for 6 months

It was an accident, you had your power cut off (again) and it was the middle of winter. Dewey offered you a warm place to stay temporarily and after 4 weeks of looking for a new apartment, he just said "you're already living here, just move in with me."

It made things easier, now there were two people contributing to bills

Rent was never paid in full, but something was always sent in

Patty wasn't impressed by that but Ned wasn't as fussed, just happy to have something coming in

It helped that he really liked you and felt that you were a good fit for Dewey

Even though things still remained tough, you were happy just to have a roof over your head and someone who loved you

When Dewey started working for Horace Green, things became easier

Bills were paid with his paycheck, yours became groceries and fuel money

Even then, for the first time in a long time, you had spare cash

Most went into savings but being able to afford your own Netflix account? Felt amazing

Despite having a bit of extra money, some habits were hard to break.

You rarely bought clothing from anywhere but thrift stores and Walmart, Dewey prefering Walmart but essentially doing the same thing

Unfortunately, that meant the clothing you had bought wasn't always the best of quaility, especially when Dewey was the one wearing it

Just the nature of his jumpy, clutzy, accident prone and slightly messy self meant you were constantly buying him new shirts and mending his sweater vests

To be honest, it was getting old

You'd also been missing crafting for a while so. Two birds, one stone

The next time you were in Walmart alone, you grabbed yarn and knitting needles and on the few days a week you were home alone, slowly you started to knit him some new sweater vests, using an old one that was beyond repair as the template to make sure each one fit

The first one was just a plain, fadded red to get yourself back into practice before slowly beginning to add simple designs similar to the few he owned now

Then a couple of weird themed ones, a couple of his favourite bands, one with music notes in the design, one that was birthday themed, one with mini guitars, whatever amused you and you thought would amuse him, you knitted onto the sweater

Each vest took three weeks to make. By the time his birthday came around, you had made him ten new vests, having kept it a secret the entire time

You were super nervous when he opened up his present, but the giant smile on his face was worth it, excited with the concert tickets you managed to get for the two of you (in the pit, of course) and with each new sweater, he got more and more excited

"These are amazing babe! Where did you get them?" He asked as he got up to try his favourite (the one with a replica of his Gibson knitted around the bottom) on

You go quiet. "I....uh.....I made them."

He looked over at you like you just admitted you had found a cure for cancer

You'd neglected to tell him of your crafting past, it never came up so you never said

Now, however, he was keen to see you craft

He never even dared to try it out for himself, but enjoyed watching you knit or crochet without looking at your work, watching TV or chatting to Dewey as you just continued to work

Every year, he got at least two sweaters from you, and you made sure to knit a sensible one and a silly one

What amazed you was the fact that Dewey seemed to have fewer accidents

He took extra special care of all of the stuff you make him, never spilling so much as a drop of coffee on them and tried his best not to get them snagged on the one sharp part of the doorway into his office

One day he came home, nearly in tears

You were folding up laundry but you dropped everything and came rushing over, thinking the absolute worst but instead he simply pushed something into your hands and said "I'm so sorry"

Turns out, he took off his vest when he came in to play a song with the kindergartners, something he now does daily as part of his role as music teacher

He didn't notice one of the kids grabbing it and wandering off with it

It was covered in paint, one of the Gibsons were cut out and the yarn was beginning to unravel, despite clear attempts to keep it from doing so

It was ruined

You hush Dewey as you pull him close and reassure him it's ok, you can make him another one

It took a while to settle him, he treasured everything you made him and he allowed one to get ruined

But once you assured him it was fine and you knew it was an accident, you ended up spooning in the couch as you mentally start planning the new sweater

A month passed when he found a wrapped up parcel on his desk

He was running late, didn't have time to grab a coffee and accidentally grabbed his vest with a massive hole in the back rather than one of your handcrafted ones

Still, he made it to the classroom before any students arrived, so he quickly opened it up and a huge smile plastered its way onto his face

A new sweater vest that was near identicle to his ruined one, a bit cleaner and better designed than the old one

You'd also made him a pair of socks, something you'd been experimenting with, with the AC/DC logos on the side

He found the note at the bottom 'Hope you have a good day. I love you. Y/N. P.S. These are not allowed near the kindergartners ❤'

He quickly changed into the sweater, feeling so much better than he did 5 minutes ago

The socks became his lucky socks and he'd wear them to his gigs, stating that it was like you were up there with him

He shushed you when you pointed out that it meant he was technically stepping on you, telling you "you know what I mean" before giving you a kiss

He'd give you requests for scarves, beanies, the lot. Socks were for bed or performances only, apparently, but everything else was worn whenever

You even made beanies and scarves for members of the band who wanted them, each having the School of Rock logo on it plus the kid's name

Dewey loves wearing and telling everyone about the stuff you make because he thinks it's absolutely incredible you're able to create something like this

And he treasures everything you make him

Most importantly, he's there to listen when you rant that the yarn isn't working like it should, or just about crafting problems in general, and be an ear as you problem solve an issue and is there to celebrate the victories when it finally works

Gets really good at yarn shopping too, picks up the brands you prefer and learns to read the packaging labels

Just

He loves the fact you can create something just like he can

#school of rock musical headcanons #school of rock headcanons #school of rock the musical #school of rock musical #school of rock #dewey finn headcanons #dewey finn/reader #dewey finn #dewey finn x reader #ama writes #amas stuff

[dontcare77ghj]

Insomnia

Tony x reader x Natasha

Part of my series surrounding sleep. 3 times you help him with his insomnia and the 1 time he helps you.

It had been you and Tony for years. For a long time, it was purely platonic, neither of you seeing the other as anything more than a best friend, but one day it all changed. You’d met Natasha about a year into your relationship, when she’d infiltrated Stark Industries. Again, the three of you don’t know how it happened, but it happened.

You all fell for each other.

Cut to a year the three of you were all together, living happily with each other. There was only one problem the three of you had to face daily, well, more like nightly. Tony’s insomniac tendencies. The battle of New York felt so long ago, but it clearly was still affecting the man, causing him to sleep very little and most nights bunker himself down in the labs.

During your time together, you and Nat had worked out some methods to either help him out that night or manage to get him to come back to bed.

“He’s gone again.” Natasha stated as she shook you awake.

“JARVIS?” You asked groggily, barely able to keep your eyes open. Natasha was sitting up next to you and pulled you in closer to her as you asked your question.

“Mr. Stark woke an hour ago and is currently situated in the labs.” JARVIS said in his thick British accent.

“What’re his stats?” Natasha questioned, fingers running through your hair.

“Currently as optimal as he allows them to be, but he appears to be having trouble staying awake.” JARVIS reported. You both sighed before you pulled out of Natasha’s arms.

“I’ll bring him down some coffee.” You said, stretching your arms above your head. “Get some more sleep, Nat. I’ll deal with him.” You added, pulling on a satin kimono robe.

“Are you sure? Because you got him last time.” Natasha asked, already curling back up in bed.

“I’m sure.” You said with a smirk. “I’ll be back soon.” You added, even though Natasha was already dozing.

Taking the elevator down to the kitchen, you quickly brewed Tony a cup of coffee just the way he liked, black and strong, before going down to the labs.

“Knock knock.” You say, quickly rapping on the door frame. The billionaire’s head shot up from the project he was working on and he smiled at the sight of you.

“Hey, sweet cheeks.” He greeted as you walked into the room. “And what’s this?” He asked, taking note of the cup in your hand.

“A gift for my lovely inventor.” You said, handing him the hot cup.  He inhaled deeply at the strong scent and immediately chugged half the still steaming beverage. “That’s going to burn your throat.”

“I’ve built up a tolerance.” He shrugged, placing the rest of the drink on the bench. “Now, what are you doing up?” He asked, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into him.

“Delivering you coffee so you don’t pass out while playing with your toys.” You said, placing a kiss onto his cheek.

“Not toys. But, thank you, for the addiction supplementation.” He thanked with a soft smile.

“Of course, darling. So, what are you working on now?” You asked, pulling out of his arms and taking a seat at the bench. Tony began to rapidly explain the invention he was working on, the two of you sat talking and tinkering on his new toy for around an hour when Natasha dragged herself into the room. Blanket and all.

“Nat, what are you doing?” Tony asked as she began to clear a bench behind the two of you. Once the bench was clear, she climbed on top of it and made herself comfortable.

“Too cold up there.” She grumbled. “Can’t sleep.” She added, snuggling into her pillow. You and Tony exchanged smiles at the sight of the dozy red head.

“Let me help you there.” You said and climbed into the makeshift bed with your girlfriend. Natasha curled into you and Tony smiled at the sight of the two of you. Tony continued to work on his invention as the two of you slept in his lab on top of a random bench.

After the two of you had been sleeping for over an hour, Tony took a quick break and watched as you both slept soundly. He let out a long yawn before climbing onto the bench with the two of you. Wrapped around the two of you, he let out a sigh of contentment, and smiled as you opened your eyes and gave him a half-asleep smile.

“Love you, Tony.” You murmured, eyes already closing.

“Love you too, Y/N.” He replied, drifting off to sleep.

“What are you two doing?” You asked, walking into your bedroom. Both your girlfriend and boyfriend were on yoga mats, Tony wobbling and Natasha standing perfectly still. The two turned to look at you as you entered, Tony falling out of his pose.

“She calls it yoga, I call it torture to those with no balance.” Tony grunted, taking a chug from his water bottle.

“It’s something Bruce recommended.” Natasha said, still in the pose, turning her head towards you. “It’s supposed to calm your mind enough that you can sleep.

“Yeah, right.” Tony snorted. “I still highly doubt this going to work.”

“Highly doubt or not. Bruce believes this will help you, and we’re going to try it.” Natasha said, finally moving out of the pose and turning to Tony. Placing her hands on her hips she gave him a stern look.

“Now back in position, Tony. We have half an hour more and that should be enough to help you sleep.” She scolded, causing Tony to whine.

“So bossy.” Tony complained, moving back onto his mat.

“Alright, I’ll leave you two to it.” You said, going to back out of the room.

“No, no, no.” Tony stopped you. “If I have to do this crap, then so do you.” He said, gesturing for you to come over.

“This is your thing, I don’t need to do this.” You complained, going to leave again. Tony quickly ran over to you and began to pull you back into the room.

“We are in this together.” He said, standing you next to him.

“I have less balance than you do.” You stated with a frown. “You better be ready to catch me.” You warned.

“I’ll catch you and Nat catch the both of us.” Tony promised, causing Natasha to scoff.

“Half an hour you two. Let’s stick to the schedule.” She said getting back into the pose.

“Tony, don’t you dare, no!” Natasha shrieked.  It was currently three am and the three of you had only gotten back from a mission a few hours ago.  The mission had been long and hard on all of you, and Natasha and you knew that Tony wasn’t going to sleep tonight.

The combination of adrenaline and paranoia had settled over the three of you, but he felt it the worst. To attempt to hold off what was sure to be a dreaded night’s sleep, the three of you had hunkered yourselves down in the labs.

“What are you two doing?” You asked as you re-entered the room, hands full of take away containers. Placing the containers down you took a good look at your two lovers. Natasha was covered in green and pink silly string glaring at a smug Tony.

“She said to wake her up if she fell asleep. She fell asleep and I woke her up.” Tony said, placing a can of silly string on the bench.

“That was not the wake up I meant.” Natasha snapped, wiping the sticky substance off herself. “Why the hell do you even have that shit?” She grumbled.

“Parker bought it in.” Tony explained with a shrug. “Said he wanted to create some new webbing with this texture.”

“But that would be ineffective.” You said, sitting next to Natasha. “You’d be able to just flick the stuff off.”

“That’s what I told him.” Tony stated, taking a container and beginning to eat. “But he left the stuff here.”

“You know, I love you both.” Natasha started. “But it is far too early in the morning for you two to be nerding out on me.” She added, shaking her head.

“Sorry, honey.” You said, handing her a container. She gave you a soft smile and placed a kiss on your cheek. 

“I can’t eat anymore.” You groused. “I feel like I’m about to implode.”

“My brain is about to do the same thing.” Natasha stated, looking away from her laptop.

“Maybe you two should get some sleep.” Tony suggested, finally looking away from his project.

“No, Tony, we said we’d stay awake with you.” Natasha denied, looking over at the brunette.

“I’ll be fine. But two need sleep.” He stated. “I’ll still be up for a few hours, so just head to bed.”

“I’ll sleep, but I’m not leaving you in this lab alone.” You said, leaning over to open a cabinet on the bottom of the bench. You pulled out a thick blanket and two pillows before moving over to an empty work space. “You joining Nat?”

“Of course.” She said, climbing onto the counter with you. 

“Night, Tony.” You both chorused. “Love you.” 

“Love you both too.” He said, placing a kiss on both your temples before moving back to his work station. 

The two of you had only been asleep for thirty minutes before you felt Tony crawl in with you.

For once the tables had turned. While Tony was peacefully sleeping in your bedroom, you and Natasha were currently wide awake in the living room. Natasha had been awake when you jerked awake to avoid waking, the for once peacefully sleeping, Tony you’d both moved into the living room.

“Sweet cheeks, Rushman, what are you two doing?” Tony asked, walking out of the bedroom. You and Natasha sat on the couch, your head resting on her chest, and you both turned at his entrance.

“Can’t sleep.” Natasha murmured, fingers still playing with your hair.

“Sleep sucks.” You mumbled into her chest. Tony walked over to the couch and pulled the two of you into him as he sat.

“Any chance you two are going back to sleep?” He asked, kissing you both on the temple.

“Nope.” You said as Natasha shook her head.

“That’s alright.” Tony said, pulling a blanket over the three of you. “JARVIS, please turn on Friends.”

“Right away, boss.” JARVIS said. The TV turned on, the opening credits of the show already rolling.

“Thank you, Tony.” Natasha thanked, settling into couch.

“This is great.” You added, reaching over and taking his hand in yours.

“Of course, anything for my girls.” He said, pulling you both in closer.

Sleep wasn’t something you guys were great at, but it was something you helped each other with.The three of you all had issues with the matter but there were times it felt good. Times like now, wrapped in each others arms, protecting each other from thoughts that plagued you all.

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Coming soon;

Natasha x reader x Clint

Bucky x reader x Sam x Steve

Bucky x reader x Natasha

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