#god he was SO SO SO fine in that ep i was gripping the couch w my nails

[bad-wolf-circe]

i would just like to say that david tennant in Smith and Jones... holy mother of god. holy shit. hey are you free can i have your number.

#the wink to martha... the kiss.... the piercing(??? god wtf am i writing a romance novel??) gaze he gave when he invited her onto the TARDIS #like i know martha deserved so much better than ten #but WOW. #WOWWEEY #god he was SO SO SO fine in that ep i was gripping the couch w my nails #oh but also. MARTHA #if ten was fine martha was on FIRE #she was SOOOOOAUR hot #like omg #wow #martha and ten god. #doctor who #tenth doctor #martha #tenmartha

[ansbobcar]

EP 2. Hangover and find out

WORD COUNT. 1425

Link to overview

_ _ _ _ _

The Desert Cane woke up with a hangover. That was a fact, slowly bringing himself to find his glasses which were on the coffee table beside the couch. With a sigh, he could finally check the time in his office.

“It’s only 8 o’clock,” he huffed in relief. His division began work around 9 and the monthly briefing with the field agents was at 10, so there was still some time for him to look less… wasted, taking a walk to the closest washroom and looking at himself. He looked about the same without his robe, just more irritated honestly. It’ll go away with time, he brushes it off as he washed his face at the sink before patting it dry with his handkerchief.

Once he returned he was greeted by Rinka once again who was now in her orange robe. “You’re awake!” She had brought over some soup and a loaf of bread. “You had me worrying for a bit last night.”

“You didn’t have to bring me anything,” he dismissed her words only to wince at the throbbing pain.

“I definitely did,” putting down the tray of food she brought and helping him over to his chair. “I’ll take over for the meetings.”

“Don’t you—”

“—I’ve got nothing on my schedule in the morning, I’m fine,” and he conceded.

She was the previous head of the Magical Power Administration, he reminded himself, unpleased by the saltiness of the soup he sipped. He should trust her more than he lets himself.

“Was there anything else you were supposed to do today? Like in the afternoon or evening,” she tidied the mess that occurred near the coffee table.

By the mention of it, the grip on his spoon loosened as he scowled, “one more meeting.”

“With who?”

“No clue,” his parents set him up again.

“Just give me the location and time then.”

“2 o’clock, The Hound at the end of Marchette Street,” he recalled from the phone call. “I’d prefer if you didn’t follow me for it.”

“Sure thing.”

_ _ _

Sadly, she heeded those words, faced with a dolled up daughter of another high ranking officer in the Bureau… probably. There was no sense of charisma in her charm-filled eyes, did she recently learn a spell? It was sloppily applied, he critiqued as he held a blank expression during their conversation whilst waiting for their food.

She seemed too relaxed compared to the others who knew his position and placed him highly on a pedestal.

“... I’m currently studying at Easton in the meantime. Sadly, I’m in the Lang House, so I think that’s where our similarities end,” she chuckled to herself with a calculated awkwardness, as she tucked some strands of hair behind her ear.

“Did you join Easton recently?”

“Not at all but mid-terms are coming up soon,” she rambled about practising her subjects soon but they seemed elementary the more he focused on the details. “What were your favourite subjects?”

“Didn’t have any since I did rather well in all of them, but I preferred to be in the library before I opted to do police internships if that helps,” he replied sincerely. “You should probably focus on Potions and Magic History then. Under timed conditions, it’s easier to lose large amounts of marks due to the nature of their content and as a result either fail the subject.”

‘Oh god,’ she thought. ‘He’s just babbling away about how the exam will be? I didn’t study that far into Ancient History with the Giant Race though?!’ Even the food went cold as she completely immersed in his words of advice. It reached a point where she was about to hit curfew at 5 o’clock alongside the clouds thickening it’s dull appearance over the city, and quickly left him to finish eating his meal alone.

‘That’s the curfew for… oh.’

He hid the tightening grip on his hidden hand as he watched her run in the distance.

“They’re just unbelievable,” he held back a scoff, thunder boomed nearby. Droplets tap danced with increasing crescendo onto the roof and all around the city centre as he continued his meal as a waiter lit up the candles inside the restaurant and he sat there, mulling over his next decision towards those needy oldies.

They would likely send a new letter with another rabbiphone in about a week’s time and by then he has to figure out how to get away from the problem. If it continues beyond this month, he might actually lose it and become a full blown alcoholic. He would’ve chosen the one from today if she was in her graduating year at Easton as he had initially believed.

The restaurant doors opened briefly, greeting his ears with the rapid descent of rain from his seat. Shaking the umbrella in her hand before she left it at the door, she turned towards him and waved before she walked to the seat opposing him, bits of her hair stuck to her skin. “You didn’t return so I thought you passed out again,” she rested her drenched robe on the seat as she received a menu and ordered chicken chop immediately. “And then the weather changed,” she continued. “How are you feeling compared to this morning?”

“The headache’s been gone now,” he promptly replied. “How were the meetings?”

“There were some glaring issues with their patrol routes, since they avoided common hotspots for magic abuse,” she summarised. “I suggest linking them up with each district’s police branch to come up with a flexible schedule since our own forces are rather limited still.”

“I also looked over some of the newly handed in reports, nothing strange about them.”

His scowl-filled eyes softened into disappointment as his co-worker continued to catch him up on important details. He couldn’t interrupt her out of necessity even if his seething thoughts could barely be chained to the back of his mind but he tried his best to listen to her. “Sophie’s new security system in the storage room is almost impenetrable and inescapable for your average double line magic user! I’m so happy my ideas helped!”

However, those reigns were instantly ripped apart as she questioned: “How was the blind date?”

“She didn’t even start high school yet,” his resentment for his parents grew in his voice. Alas, there was no law against this practice for the near future as he watched her section of her dish.

“Hopefully she graduates from high school,” her eyes filled with melancholy at his words. “So how are you going to evade your parents now?” He stayed silent, at a loss of words.

“And I thought he was a decisive guy,” she mumbled under her breath. “I’ll be frank.”

“Either you have me act as your girlfriend or you’re gonna meet that teenager in a week and pray that she cheats on you down the line so the engagement gets cancelled.”

“I’m not putting false hope in a middle schooler,” he turned down the second option, only to grimace at the first option she gave. “And that… needs a realistic progression to be believable.”

“This is the realistic progression,” she countered. “If it wasn’t for the rain, the candlelight on the table fits the atmosphere we’re trying to convince them of! Haven’t you seen the people tailing you from outside? The paparazzi are crazy in this part of the city regarding famous figures.”

The rain shuddered in the wake of another stab of thunder. His 

“Can we discuss the details later in my office?”

_ _ _

A night passed with the breeze, as Ryoh Grantz, the most dazzling man alive, awaits for the other Divine Visionaries to arrive with the honey obsessed Flame Cane who briefly glares at him. He sits at the edge of the balcony connected to the director’s office, who for now has taken a deserved month long break. Alas, the Bless Minister hasn’t returned to the room as expected. 

He giggled handsomely at this fact before the door opened gracefully, revealing the lovebirds… from the corner of his eye,” he stiffly fumbled his words as his comment seemed to be ignored. He wasn’t scolded for his narcissistic remarks or had his delusional teasing corrected, as they just stared at him like guilty children stuck in place.

“Yeah.”

The white haired sweet tooth choked on his tea as he questioned them with a tight grip onto his cup. “Since when?”

This time, the bespectacled youngest in the room replied.

“It’s been a few months.”

_ _ _ _ _

Lmao the quotation in the overview's mentioned now so uh. yayyy. When will the title be mentionned in storyline? Dunno?

EDIT: I MADE A CONTINUITY ERROR FOR LATER CHAPTERS. We're currently in May the school year. Like 8-10 months before the main mashle canon plot begins.

#mashle oc #orter madl x oc #orter madl #mashle x oc #i made a continuity error

[blossom-tonic]

Please...

-> A Luke drabble

-> GN! Reader

I had this idea while playing his EP 2 story. It will involve Angst so be ready for that. Have fun reading this short piece c:

You sat on your couch in silence. Hand folded on your lap, trying to fight the urge from gripping the fabric of your clothes out of pure frustration.

Luke sat beside you, looking at you worryingly. He just told you his secret which he kept for a very long time. He didn't know why he did it. Maybe it was your happy smile yesterday which made him changes his choice. Originally he didn't want you to find out. The last thing he wanted to see was the sad look on his dear Watsons face. But the expression you're making now is worse. Because he doesn't know what it means.

You had your lips pressed in a thin line your eyes where forced to keep the tears in that are threatening to fall. You knew if you look at him you would break

"how long have you known?" You finally asked after hours of silence. You tried to keep your voice from shaking but a little bit could be heard. Your voice was stern and hurt which was unusual when you talked to your best friend.

"n-not so long! I-"

"how. Long?!" You interrupted him as you noticed that he was trying to use excuses.

"3 years ago. When i was still in the NSB." He then answered looking at the floor. He wasn't expecting you to be angry at him. You were rarely angry, only when you were scolding him when he did something stupid.

"3 years?! And you didn't think of contacting me?! Or telling me the second we met again in Stallis?!*

"I thought it would be better-"

"You thought it would be better not telling. For you to disappear like before telling me you'll be back even tho you know that you wouldn't?!" You screamed at him as you finally looked to him. That the first time you raised your voice at him. This beautiful voice which was like an angel for him is now filled with pain and betrayal.

He still looked at floor. Ashamed. He didn't think you would react this way. And to be honest if he would've he wouldn't have told you.

"look at me." You requested and he did. As he looked at you, he could see the tears which we already spilling. It broke him to see you like this. All he wanted to is wipe them away and hug you. Telling you that everything will be fine but he knew you wouldn't believe him.

"you reconsidered treatment right? Like getting into therapy? Getting help from doctor's who can maybe even find a cure?" You asked trying to keep yourself together. You didn't sound so angry anymore but still ik pain.

"i declined" he answers shortly knowing you wouldn't like the answer but he wanted to be honest with you.

"You did what?! Are completely out of you mind?! You got anything offered and you declined?! If it's the money i could easily pay for it! Maybe i can ask the law firm to give me a raise! Maybe even Marius can help!

"it not about the money..."

"is it about your stupid Ego?! I swear to God i know you really don't wanna let other people see your weak and powerless but-"

"STOP! ITS NOT ABOUT THE MONEY, MY EGO OR ANYTHING!" Now it was his time to interrupt you. You were stunned, never ever did he once scream at you. He was always treating you with care and softness. Which was the reason you fell in love with him in the first place.

He noticed how he reacted and immediately apologized quietly. With one quick breath he calmed himself now looking into your eyes with a seriousness.

"it's not about anything. It's just that...it wouldn't help. The medication they offered would keep me alive for one more moth that's it. And how long could it take for them to find a cure? It would just be a waste of time..." He sighed rubbing his forehead. Why couldn't he just keep it a secret... everything would be easier if he never told you.

"S-So that it? That's your answer? You are giving up? You are not even trying to survive?" You didn't want to hid the tremble in your voice. Your tear kept flowing and flowing, you didn't even bother to wipe them away.

Luke couldn't stand your hurtful face anymore and cupped your face with his warm, calloused ones. Wiping your wet cheeks from the tears softly.

"I'm not giving up. I still try to make the most of it! I'm still trying to do things that make me happy and i try to make as much as memories of you as i can. I didn't plan on telling to prevent this from happening. I wanted you live your life happy, without fear that someday i won't be with you anymore* he tried to explain, smiling a little while still stroking your cheeks. But now as way of comfort you.

You love his warm that he gave up. It felt like home. You always felt at home with him. And it scared you that this hike would be taken away from you.

You couldn't help yourself and leaned into his body, laying your head in his chest to listen his heartbeat while sitting on his lap. You wrapped your arms around him as an attempt to hug him.

Under any normal circumstances, he would be a blushing mess, stuttering and asking why you are sitting right there while not knowing where to put his hands. But that wasn't the case today.

While he still had a faint red color on his face he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you, rubbing your back softly and a comforting manner while lying his head down in yours, smelling the sweet shampoo you always you use which compliment your Natural scent.

He let you cry. Not carrying if you wet his shirt with your tears and sobs. All he thought about was holding you in his arms and trying to comfort you.

"Please... I know i can't force you but please reconsider the offer..." You quietly begged into his chest in which he just responded with light kiss in your head

"i...i think about it...."

_________________________________________

So yours truly got tested positive for Corona which means I'm in quarantine and maybe can write again, depending how i feel. I'm triple vaccineted and wore my mask everywhere even in class. That's just a reminder even of you are vaccineted and where your makes you can still get Corona. Pls Take Care of yourself and follow the rules and wear your mask!!!

#tears of themis #tears of themis x reader #tears of themis luke #tears of themis angst #tears of themis xia yan #tears of themis drabble #luke pearce #luke x reader #luke pearce x reader #xia yan #xia yan x reader

[cellard0ors]

Fic: Movement (4/5)

Still working on this for @peachworthy. Should wrap up sometime this week or next and then the full thing'll get posted to AO3. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 here for now!

They decide to do it on a Saturday night.

Link has the weekend off from work and no classes. Rhett’s schedule is also free. They discuss the matter in terse terms, both seeming nervous about the idea, but neither backing down.

As such, Saturday rolls around with little fanfare until late into the evening. An evening that finds Link sitting on the couch, one of his legs jiggling and bouncing about as he waits for Rhett.

Rhett comes out to the living room holding a pillow and he offers it to Link. Link looks at it with some confusion and his friend clears his throat, eyes darting away, “For your lap.”

“My-?” Link looks down and then to Rhett and then…oh. Link colors, realizing that the pillow is to be used in order to cover any potentially ‘arising’ situation on his part. Feel exposed yet stubborn, he remarks dryly, “Don’t think I’ll need that.”

Rhett lets out a loud laugh and pats him in the chest with it, “Trust me. If I’ve done my job right? You will.”

“…point taken,” Link says softly and he takes the pillow, settling it over his crotch. To be fair, he probably will pop wood. After all, he sometimes pops it when Rhett’s full clothed.

Nude?

Yeah.

Link presses down on the pillow harder, even the errant thought of a nude Rhett causing a stirring. Rhett walks to the television and fiddles with the remote.

An app that Link’s noticed before, but never bothered with, is clicked on. Erotes Plus. The screenshots for the videos that come up are…certainly something. Link looks away, almost overwhelmed by all the bare flesh before him. The titles of the videos are also a bit much. Rhett notices and Link can hear the smirk in his voice as he says, “Prude.”

Link scowls and glares back at him and the screen. He is nota prude. However, titles such as ‘Lonely Housewife Squirts for The First Time’ and ‘He Rides His Daddy Dry’ would take anybody aback. At least Link would like to think so – he supposes some people are more immune than others. After all, his own history with porn is on the small side.

During puberty he’d taken his healthy peeks at nude magazines and a few of his friends had snuck out adult VHS tapes to check out, but for the most part it hadn’t interested him. Granted, this was probably due to his eventual discovery that – while he appreciated the female form – it didn’t draw his interest quite like the male one did.

And finding gay porn? Where he grew up? Yeah, pretty much a completely impossibility. And then – when he’d finally managed to snag some – it had, once more, disappointed. It all just seemed so cold and callous. Like a business transaction with a boatload of grunting. Not at all to his tastes.

Rhett, scrolling through the videos, finally finds one titled simply ‘Movement’ and turns to Link with an apprehensive glance, “Still plenty of time to say ‘no’.”

Link’s throat is dry. Unlike some of the other screenshots, this one is vaguer. It’s two forms silhouetted in shadow. One of those forms is Rhett. Link feels numb as he speaks, “I’m good.”

Rhett clicks the video and it begins.

He moves over and sits near Link, lounging against the other side of the couch in an oh-so-casual way. As if an adult video starring him hasn’t just begun to play.

The film opens with a lithe redhead in a yoga outfit doing various poses. While this is being shown the title card appears followed by the starring and since Link highly doubts Rhett goes by ‘Jenessa Star’, he can’t help but chuckle at, “‘Donatello Velvet’?”

“What?” Rhett asks simply and Link gestures to the television, “That’s you, isn’t it?”

“Problem?”

“That’s the screen name you chose?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it, I just don’t see you as a ‘Donatello’,” Link grins at him and Rhett laughs, rubbing one finger along his top lip thoughtfully, “What would you’d’ve gone with then?”

“If I was doing adult film?” Link asks and at Rhett’s nod, he crosses his arms and thinks, “I don’t know…Bevin, maybe?”

Rhett tosses his head back and laughs and Link feels a fissure of delight at that sound, just as he always does. He turns back and the redhead’s poses have become…much more complex. Almost painful looking as she contorts herself to degrees Link wouldn’t think possible and then she rises, stretching out and that’s when Rhett enters.

Or maybe it would be better to think of it as Donatello enters. Yes, it’s a little easier that way and Link does his best to cling to that, to try and stay nonchalant as he offers dryly, “Well, well – there’s a familiar lookin’ fella.”

Rhett just hums and they both watch as he walks up to the woman. He runs his hands along her shoulders and down her arms, whispering into her neck huskily, “Good form.”

Link can’t help but let out a snort. Rhett rolls his eyes, “Okay, okay – I know, I know. Dialogue’s a bit-?”

“Bad?”

“…it could use some improvement.”

“Uh huh,” Link just beams and hey, this isn’t so bad. Cheesy and kind of silly and maybe it will just stay like this. Light and fun. For all Link knows, they won’t even watch the whole thing. Maybe just some of it and then they can turn on something els-!

Rhett begins kissing Jenessa’s neck, white teeth visibly dragging along her skin and Link’s whole body tightens. A phantom sting starts along the same side of his neck that Rhett’s touching on Jenessa. Jenessa’s whole throat arches back, a pleasured moan leaving her and Rhett’s tongue is…very pink.

Link’s Adam’s apple bobs as he says (much huskier than he’d like) “N-Nice camera work…”

Rhett just hums, “Mac’s always had a good eye.”

“Mac?”

“Mackenzie, the director of this one.”

Link just lets out a sound of acknowledgement as he watches Rhett reach around Jenessa and tug at her tank top. Tug until her small, pointed breasts pop free. He cups them in his hands and he has…great hands.

They looks so tan against her skin, palms rough and big, and Jenessa lets out a full throttle moan. Rhett teases the pink tips, fingertips agile as they play along the sensitive flesh, as they circle around her areolas.

She whimpers and turns, kisses him fully, passionately, and it’s…messy. Wet. Link can feel his whole heart thump hard at the sight. Janessa’s hair is shorter than Rhett’s – cropped close to her scalp and Rhett’s hands have abandoned her chest to run through the short strands.

Link barely stops himself from reaching up and touching his own hair, instinctively wanting to mimic how that might feel. To imagine Rhett doing it to him.

He tries not to fidget and talking, talking will help, “Surprised this isn’t more, ah, instant.”

Rhett shrugs, “Foreplay’s a thing, man.”

“No, I know,” Link knows his voice pitches a little high at this, defensive, “Just…figured, mean...’s porn…”

“Some of the earlier videos on here are like that, but when EP got bought out, the new owners took the company in a different direction.”

“EP?”

“Erotes Plus. The platform these films are on,” Rhett explains and then he starts mentioning a few things about different production companies and distributors and the like, but Link is too distracted because Jenessa is now fully naked and Rhett is on his knees between her legs, feasting on her moist lower lips.

The silken tip of his tongue is parting her, dancing along the bundle of nerves that is her clit and her head is tossed back on a loud, wild whine.

Her pale body undulates and she’s gripping his long hair so hard. Link feels as if he’s having an out of body experience. This is his roommate. His friend. The man he’s secretly in love with.

And he’s pleasuring this woman with such…focus. With intensity and finesse and when he rises, his erection is clear, straining at the linen pants that are containing it. Link points to the screen weakly, “Hippie clothes.”

The comment is stupid and unhelpful, but Rhett just laughs, “Yeah – kinda the theme of this series. I’m like, a Yoga Instructor or something? Least that's the way it was explained to me, so – linen pants, cotton top – I mean, we’ve had better costumes, but for this shoot-!”

Rhett is talking some more but, again, Link is barely listening. His eyes are transfixed by what’s taking place on the screen. Janessa easily strips off Rhett’s shirt and then his pants and – No. Underwear.

Link is seeing Rhett’s dick. It’s there…thick, but not as big as his own, a visible vein running along one side. Dusky dark and with a blushing pink tip and gently curling hair hiding his full, taunt sack…

“Link? Buddy? You doin’ alright?”

“Fine.”

“Lookin’ like you seen a ghost," Rhett teases, but there’s a breathless quality to his words, “My body all that bad?”

Link just shakes his head and watches as Jenessa strokes Rhett, as his head falls back and he lets out a shuddering gasp that Link feels in his very bones.

Link is suddenly very, very thankful for the pillow that bobs some as it reacts to the situation taking place beneath it. That situation being Link’s own dick perking upwards, making his jeans tight and constrictive.

“You…?” Something Rhett said finally seems to click in Link’s head, “You said this is a series?”

“Yup,” Rhett murmurs and now the film shows him pressing Jenessa against one of the studio walls and she raises one leg high. Insanely high. It’s a very gymnastic level move and Rhett slots his cock up with her opening, sliding hard and deep into her body.

Jenessa lets out a wail of pleasure as he presses in and she holds that leg up – all strength and grace as he begins to move within her at a steady rhythm.

Her hips answer some, but it’s more about how…open she is. And how deep he’s getting. They’re eyes are locked as he picks up his pace, rocketing in and out of her, shaking her whole form with his thrusts, her tiny breasts jiggling with each movement and movement, they call this…

“Got an award for this one.”

Thank God. That one comment draws Link back to some semblance of sanity even as his body quickens with an unspeakable longing, a carnal hunger that aches, “Really?”

“Uh huh,” Rhett says with no small amount of pride, “Best Sex Scene.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I mean, I owe it to her to be honest,” he waves to the screen, “She’s the one turning herself into a pretzel throughout this thing. Same for the rest of ‘em. They kept finding co-stars for me to work with who had had extensive training in this sort of body contortion. It was just my job to, uh, well…”

Rhett waves again and the answer is obvious: to fuck them through it. Link is not at all limber. In fact, he’s kind of a klutz. Nothing to match up with someone like this.

For some reason, this realization leaves him hollow. Cold. His arousal dims some, “Where’d you get the award from?”

“XRCO.”

Link makes some sound that would imply he understands, but he doesn’t. Rhett sighs, “Got nominated for Most Popular Male Performer on Pornhub but lost to Johnny Rockwell. Guy deserved it though. Performance he did that year was nuts.”

Link’s lost in the vocal cacophony that is erupting from the television speakers. Moans, gasps, grunts, cries of sheer ecstasy as Rhett and Janessa really ramp it up.

They’re in a different position now, Jenessa’s body once more arched at a crazy angle and Rhett's just...really getting in there. His hips are pumping double time, like a jackhammer, and she is loving it.

Her blue eyes are flashing with adoration, her lips curled in that moue that speaks to an almost pleasurable pain and Link can’t help but ask, “Are the others with her?”

Rhett takes a moment to process the question and when he realizes Link is asking about the other films in the series, he shakes his head, “Nah, man. You don’t usually have repeating partners. Like I said, they found other people who could bend in weird ways. The sequel to this sees me with Julian St. Croix. Great guy. Really smart. He’s actually working on another doctorate. Plans on working in the tech field when he retires, which – money he’s making, should be pretty damned soon. You want me to dial that up?”

Link just shakes his head. The idea of watching Rhett doing something like this with yet another person and with a man no less…

He feels crappy for, well, feeling crappy. This is Rhett’s job. He shouldn’t take this personally.

Besides, it’s not like Rhett knows how Link feels about him. To him, they’re just friends and he should play the part of friend – be a friend, a good friend, “I can see why you won the award, Rhett. You’re doing a…a great job. Real good acting.”

The sound of the shocked (yet oddly sharp) laughter that leaves Rhett at that actually causes Link to finally look at him.

Rhett’s face is a ruddy red, like he’s embarrassed or something, and he’s looking at Link with a bit of a wildfire in his eyes, “‘Good acting? Are you serious?”

Link finally shifts about on the couch (which feels fantastic considering his body has been fighting off a plethora of sensations for a while now) as he fully turns to him, pillow still firmly in place, “Of course! I mean, it-it seems like you’re really into this girl,” he gestures to the screen, “when you’re doing this and I imagine that’d take some acting chops.”

He chews on his bottom lip and lowers his gaze, hands ghosting over the pillow as he talks to it more than Rhett, “Un-unless you really are into her.”

“Into her?” Rhett pokes one finger over to the television, “Into Janessa?”

“Yeah, I mean…if-if you two are a couple or-or were one or-?”

“Me and Janessa?” Rhett asks incredulously and some of the heat seems to leave him. Link gets the impression that Rhett had, for a moment, been mad or affronted by Link’s well intentioned compliment, but now is completely changing track. Now Rhett seems charmingly baffled, “You think I’m into Janessa?”

“I-I was just saying if you’re not into her in this,” Link waves to the screen where (seeing as the volume is dying down) it would seem the film is reaching its conclusion, “Then the acting is good and if you are-!”

“I’m not,” Rhett confirms firmly, “I am very much not, nor was I ever, into Janessa. We’re friendly, but we’d never work as a couple, man. She likes cats.”

Rhett says the last as if it’s a blasphemy and Link can’t help but giggle, suddenly feeling bright and light even though he knows better than to do so, “Problem?”

“Not a big fan of lil demons…”

“Noted, “Link sighs and he feels much, much better. The film is finally over, he’s seen some of Rhett’s work, and he can now say the following with sheer confidence, “I’m proud of you.”

And with that, Rhett freezes. He freezes solid, back going ram rod straight, and his eyes – they’re as round as dinner plates.

Big and green and looking at Link like’s a wild anomaly and Link worries that maybe he, somehow, inadvertently offended him with the remark so he’s quick to explain, “I-I mean it, bo. I’m proud of you. Going out there and-and doing something like this. Being so…so exposed and vulnerable and for anyone to see and yeah, sure, I mean, I guess it’s just for people to-to beat off to or whatever, but when you think about it, it’s something that brings people pleasure, which is a lot better than bringing something bad into people's lives and I know some would argue that porn is like, some gateway into violent dark tendencies or whatever, but for the average person it’s a good thing to explore and the fact you can so freely provide that to them and not be ashamed-!”

Link is blathering.

He’s a blathering idiot.

But he feels like if he stops talking, Rhett might snap at him. Or be mad. Or-!

But instead Rhett just shakes his head and whispers, “You’re unbelievable.”

Link’s diatribe cuts off. His blood stops in his veins. He feels completely seized.

“I’ve been trying so hard…fighting with everything in me,” Rhett breathes and he just…eases forward, eases closer. He’s in Link’s personal space and Link wonders if he should back up or something.

He can feel the heat coming off Rhett’s skin. His breath is bathing Link’s face as he rasps, “But I can’t anymore. You’ll have to forgive me, but…”

Rhett kisses him.

Rhett. Kisses. Him.

Rhett kisses Link.

Their lips meet in the smallest, quickest, sweetest little peck. The sound of it, the quick wet click of their lips…it’s earth shattering, sound-barrier breaking.

And Link feels his whole nervous system lurch at it. And Rhett is still looking at him, searching his eyes wildly. Link blinks and licks his lips and tries to speak, but there’s nothing to say.

Rhett just grins softly, “Bad for business…that’s what you are…”

Link’s gaze dips to Rhett’s mouth. To his lips. Lips that were on his seconds ago. His eyes feel heavy lidded as he gulps and Rhett just huffs as he kisses him again. Again.

Another kiss and this one is more than just a peck. This one? This one is the one Link’s been dreaming of, the one he’s been wishing for.

This kiss is perfect.

#rhink #randl #my writing #peachworthy

[12tardis]

Shy Smiles  (Newt Scamander x Reader)

Warnings: none Requested: Yes! Lovely anon said ‘could you pretty please write a fic with Newt where it's just like a lot of fluff and shy smiles and looking at each other with the reader with loving eyes, maybe staying up till late just reading and whispering shy words of love, and holding hands, holding each other’. Anon, I’m sorry it took me longer than expected I hope you got through the uni week okay! You GOT this! 

Pairing: Newt Scamander x Reader 

Summary: Super short and sweet fluff drabble. The reader has always been the confident and affectionate one in the friendship but once their official relationship is established the tables turn. A/N: Thank you to lovely anon for the request I hope you’re feeling better! I’m sorry I took a while to write it I had a not-so-nice endo ep this week which left me falling asleep literally every time I sat down to write. I’m emotional AF this week. Uni is hard! I hope you enjoy and please send me more requests x 

Words: 2,534

Newt looked down at you curiously where you where curled up next to him on the couch, leaning on him just slightly and looking incredibly uncomfortable perched so precariously next to him. You were trying to give him personal space while at the same time resting your head on his shoulder as he read to you, his arm slung lazily over your shoulder. In truth you hadn’t really been paying much attention to the story at all because you were so hyper aware of Newt’s body pressed against yours and trying not to come across as too clingy. And you may have also been slightly distracted by the colour of his eyes in the afternoon sun.

Newt flicked his eyes away from you with a shy smile when he noticed your staring, continuing to read the book he had balanced in his right hand, subtly sliding his other hand from around your shoulder and to your waist. He let out a grunt when you suddenly jerked in response to his touch, elbowing him in the ribs hard enough for him to be momentarily winded.

“Oh my god, Newt I’m so sorry! Oh god I’m sorry are you okay?!”, you gasped, flapping your arms around in a panic before your hands were suddenly cupping his cheeks and Newt leant into your touch , catching his breath again.

“Y/N, it’s okay”, he smiled, blushing lightly when you set your hands on his chest in an attempt to soothe the spot you’d struck him. He shivered slightly at the way your hands slid across his pecs and over his ribs in your flustered state “Y/N, I’m okay!” , he repeated, letting out a breathy laugh as he lay his hands over yours, gently gripping your wrists in his large calloused hands.

It had been nearly 2 weeks since the day Newt had suddenly confessed his love for you and you had kissed him in response and thus your official relationship had began and he was still over the moon.

In your years of friendship you had been the more tactile and comfortable out of the two of you. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence to to see you both hand in hand as you strolled around the castle. Or to find you perched upon Newt’s lap as you read a book aloud for the both of you or to find you sat with Newt’s head resting in your lap with your fingers tangled in his hair. And it definitely wasn’t unusual to see you both gazing at one another when you thought the other wasn’t looking. You’d both ignored everyone’s constant teasing over the years because it was blatantly clear to everyone else that you two were in love. Never ‘just friends’.

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It was towards the end of your second year at Hogwarts and you were stood in front of a very flustered looking Newt, waiting patiently for him to continue his story.

“W-we don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I just thought well-I thought you might like to see ”, Newt stuttered, his gaze darting around wildly as he started to fidget with his sleeves. He thought you might like to see the baby Pygmy Puff that he’d recently found but now he was stood in front of you he was worried he might scare off his one true friend.

You’d been incredibly accepting of his interest in magical creatures and you’d listened to many of his stories in rapt interest but he knew it was an entirely different thing to be faced with one of the creatures in the flesh.

You smiled gently at Newt, making sure you gave him the time to finish talking without interrupting him and when he finally finished rambling you took his hand in your own as if you’d done it a dozen times before. “I’d love to see your new Pygmy Puff, Newt.” you murmured gently, squeezing his hand.

Newt’s eyes widened, his gaze transfixed on your hand wrapped around his and he felt the all too familiar blush in his cheeks, eventually gazing back at you, a wide smile breaking across his own face. Your hand seemed to fit so perfectly in his own. So naturally.

He pulled you out of the common room and through the corridors, the smile never leaving his cheeks and he didn’t let go of your hand once that afternoon.

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Your 3rd year found you standing in front of Newt with your hand cocked on your hip as you raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re in my seat,” you said disapprovingly.

You’d been sat beside him in the Hufflepuff common room reading through your shared notes for Potions together in preparation for your exam the following day and Newt had obnoxiously taken your seat when you’d left to go to the bathroom.

Newt just smiled back at you smugly and shrugged “it’s my seat now. It’s quite comfortable. And much warmer here by the fire. I can’t believe I’ve settled for that seat all this time,” he teased, trying not to laugh when he saw the pinch of irritation appear on your face.

“Newt move!”, you huffed, folding your arms like a petulant child and glaring at him when he only laughed and gestured to his lean body “make me”.

And you glared at him challengingly for a moment more before you shrugged and smirked slowly “Fine! If you want to be like that I guess we can share,” you said before you sat yourself down sideways in his lap without warning, biting back your own laughter at the scandalised look on his face.

Newt threw his hands up in surprise, his cheeks growing hot as he stuttered in response “Y/N w-what are you doing?”,he breathed out as his heart thumped heavily in his chest.

You just smiled in response and stretched your legs out across the couch where he would usually be sat, slinging one arm around his shoulders for balance and picking your notes back up with your other, starting to read them exactly where you’d left off.

Newt found his arm coming to rest around your back on its own accord as he gazed up at you, his lips slightly parted and he knew then that he stood no chance in that exam the next day because the only thoughts in his head right now were all you.

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In your 6th year you were spending a weekend of your two week Spring break at the Scamander house as it had become tradition over the last couple of years.

The Scamander family was very accustomed to having you around by now. Newt’s parents were always glad to see the happiness that bubbled up in their youngest son at your presence and Theseus was just glad to have you around because it meant that for once Newt wasn’t rambling on to him about you. Instead he was rambling to you. And even he had to admit that it made him happy to see his brother so at peace.

Theseus had been sent to call you both for afternoon tea and he wandered out into the backyard, expecting to find you both in Newt’s shack when he stopped in his tracks. You were sitting under the cherry blossom tree, leaning back against the trunk of the tree and Newt was sprawled out across the grass with his head in your lap, half asleep with his eyes closed as you brushed your fingers through his hair slowly. 

Theseus raised his eyebrows in surprise as he took in the sight of you smiling adoringly down at his younger brother and the the way Newt looked so relaxed there in your arms. It clearly wasn’t a new position for the two of you. He smiled softly to himself and turned around carefully, slipping back into the house as quietly as he could so as not to disturb the two of you.

“They said they’re not hungry just yet.” Theseus called to his mother as he stepped back into the house.

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

You had always been the first one to initiate almost all physical contact during your days at Hogwarts but ever since that fateful day 2 weeks ago it was as if the roles had been completely reversed.

Suddenly you were a stuttering, flustered mess, barely able to touch Newt without tripping over your words and Newt found it to be utterly adorable and endearing though he was hoping you would get over your nerves soon enough because he really really missed the way you used to cuddle him without hesitation.

“Can we...maybe take this to your bedroom?”, you suggested, nodding towards his room that was just down the hallway and slapping a hand over your face when you realised what you’d said “n-not like that! I just- I just meant we could lay down there and stretch out because-because you look so uncomfortable squished on the couch like this and I just elbowed you and oh my god I’ve just completely ruined the mood”, you whined, covering your face in embarrassment as you willed the ground to swallow you whole.

Newt’s eyes had grown to the size of saucers when you first spoke and he could have sworn his heart actually skipped a beat but then you were sitting there panicking and looking so bloody adorable he was certain his heart skipped a beat.

“Y/N...” he murmured with a small amused smile, waiting patiently when you kept rambling “Y/N”, he tried again and eventually reached out to pull your hands away from your face.

“I knew what you meant”, he smiled softly, doing his best to keep the amusement off his face because the last thing he wanted to do was embarrass you further. He pulled your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle and hopefully soothing kiss to the back of it as you watched him shyly, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Come on then”, he murmured, pulling you in the direction of his bedroom and feeling his own nerves start to grow again as he gingerly climbed onto his bed, shuffling over to make room for you. His own nerves were running rampant but he decided to be brave for you, knowing one of you needed to take initiative if you were ever going to get past this awkward phase.

You sat down carefully on the end of Newt’s bed as you looked around the room taking it in properly for the first time, avoiding looking at your boyfriend as you tried to calm your nerves. You tipped your head aside curiously when you spotted a beautiful white and purple flecked orchid sitting on the window sill by his bed and you shuffled towards it, gently brushing your fingers along the petals of the flower in awe.  “Did you know some people consider the orchid to be the most beautiful flower in the world?”, you murmured, your nerves momentarily forgotten as you gazed at the elegant flower.

“I know”, Newt murmured softly, watching you fondly as he leant in close to you “it reminded me of you,” he whispered, gazing down at you with a shy smile. You sucked in a quick breath as you took in his words “oh, you mean-“, you flushed when you found his face right in front of yours, seeing the pure adoration and love in his eyes as he nodded at you.

“Yes. I remember you telling me that in school and I remember thinking it was funny because I always thought of you and the first time I ever saw you smile when I saw the flowers in the Greenhouses”, he admitted, humming in surprise when you were suddenly kissing him.

You gripped the front of his shirt as you kissed him firmly, your cheeks warm as your heart thumped erratically in your chest. Newt sighed softly against your lips and gently cupped your cheek in response, moving his lips against yours delicately, unwittingly pouting just slightly when you pulled back from him. 

“Merlin Newt, you can’t just say things like that, it’s not good for my heart,” you grumbled, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

Newt chuckled softly, his hand flying up to brush his fingers through your hair on its own accord “you are my heart”, he whispered, relishing the way you nestled your face into his neck shyly.

“Newwwwwwt”, you whined to which he hummed, leaning back and slipping his fingertips under your chin to tip your face back up towards him.

“What? I mean it. I love you Y/N. More than anything else in this world. I know you’re nervous about us now that we’ve finally put our feelings out there but I don’t want you to worry. Nothing between us has to change. It can be just like it was before just...just with kisses”, Newt murmured with a slight blush of his own, keeping his gaze locked on yours.

You listened to him carefully, taking in his sincere expression and the look of love and understanding in his eyes and you found yourself nodding along, laying your hand over his and threading your fingers together “I’m sorry I just...I’ve been kinda stressed about not wanting to make you feel pressured. Or be annoying and clingy. I mean I know I’ve always been clingy and overly touchy and affectionate with you but now it’s different I just worry about...about scaring you off.”, you admitted softly, looking down at your intertwined hands.

“I’ve always cherished your touch, Y/N. That hasn’t changed and that will never change. You know I’ve always struggled with physical affection with everybody else. I’ve always felt honoured by your affection. You can make my entire day with one single hug.“ Newt squeezed your hands firmly in his own as he leant forward pressing a loving kiss to the top of your head. “Please believe me when I say I’ve never thought you to be clingy.”

You wrapped your arms around him tightly and pushed him back onto the bed, laying your head on his chest and claiming your spot nestled in his arms, tangling your legs with his and looking up at him. “I love you too. Even more than my plants.”, you whispered, smiling adoringly back at him though your heart was still beating erratically in your chest.

Newt made a noise of surprise when you suddenly pinned him back onto the bed, his arms wrapping around you instinctively as he felt himself blush from your close proximity. It was entirely a new sensation to hold you in his arms in his bed and he adored it already. “More than your plants?” He teased, rubbing small circles onto your back.

“Yes and I’ll love you even more if you read to me again”, you murmured, holding the book from earlier up to his face and Newt laughed taking it from your hands before he did just like that. And you lay there, resting on his chest and gazing up at him with a dopey smile on your face as you listened to the rumble of his voice in his chest combined with his steady heart beat and eventually falling asleep just like that. 

PLEASE SEND ME REQUESTS!

-MASTERLIST HERE-

#newt scamander #newt x reader #newt x y/n #newt scamander x reader #newt scamander x y/n #Newton Artemis Fido Scamander #reader insert #newt scamander fluff #fantastic beasts and where to find them #harry potter

[mae-gi-writes]

Deobi Playlist (EP 3) | The Boyz Imagine

Ep 3: In which Juyeon has a complicated relationship with food. 

The Boyz x Hospital Playlist inspired drabble series.

Main Characters: Hyunjae, Juyeon, Kevin and OC (Mae)

Sides: the rest of The Boyz.

Genre: fluff, slice of life, comedy, BROMANCE BRUH

EP 1 | EP 2 | EP 3 | EP 4 | EP 5 | EP 6 | EP 7 | EP 8 | EP 9 | EP 10 | EP 11

-----------

“Did you eat?” 

Juyeon looks up from his monitor with bleary eyes, rubbing the sleep away when he spots Kevin leaning against the white office door with two bowls of instant noodles. 

He shakes his head, “not yet. Wanted to finish this report first.” 

Tutting like a mother hen, Kevin closes the door behind him and turns on the electric kettle set atop the fridge separating Juyeon and Hyunjae’s desks. The office is cramped and filled with so many documents that one can barely see past the messy pile of papers surrounding the pair, but while Kevin continuously nags the two to get it together and that organization is a charm in itself, Hyunjae is by no means, someone who takes orders the right way. He has the tendency to do the polar opposite. 

Pushing some papers to the side to crack open the bowl’s lids, he asks, “you’re not dieting again, are you?” 

“What?” Juyeon frowns, glancing back at the older man, “no, I don’t even have time to think about that.” 

“That’s exactly what you said back then too,” Kevin replies with a pointed look. He grabs the kettle from the stand to pour the hot water over the dried noodles, swirling it around so that an equal layer of steam rises from the bowl and causes Juyeon’s nostrils to twitch with temptation. He sighs in resignation, before pushing himself up from his office chair to join the raven-haired doctor on the tiny couch cramped in the middle of their space. It had once been Hyunjae’s brilliant idea, suggesting that it could be a way for them to have a quick snooze in-between shifts. 

It is sad to say that Juyeon has never slept on this couch, not because he never had the chance, but he finds it harder to ignore work if he’s just sitting in the same room, breathing in the same air as his responsibilities. 

When Kevin pushes one of the bowls towards Juyeon, he breathes in the scent of fake chicken flavour, memories hitting him like a ton of bricks whenever he eats those kinds of junk food. It reminds him of his past, of how he’d gorge himself with sweet treats in order to fill that growing emptiness inside his stomach, the sickening guilt that curled up inside him like an unwanted creature as an unsteady ache would settle over his stomach. He remembers how he’d force himself to throw up, shoving two fingers down his throat as a way to alleviate his efforts. Again and again, that cycle had continued for more than six months, and no one had ever bothered noticing. 

The thing with Juyeon is that, underneath that shy and quirky exterior, is a man filled with self-doubt. Having been raised to always do better than his older siblings, Juyeon always felt inferior in comparison to the academic achievements of his sister, or the social prowess and the easy-goingly fluid charisma that oozed off his older brother. But Juyeon wasn’t skilled at academics, he hated learning and studying in general, and since he had the confidence of a goldfish out of water the moment he felt people’s eyes on him, it had been safe to claim that he had not inherited any of his brother’s charisma either. 

“I wouldn’t go there, Kevin,” Juyeon murmurs when he notices the worry in his friend’s almond eyes, creases appearing like permanent lines scrunching up in the middle of his brows, “not after…” 

He allows the words to hang in the air, not really sure whether voicing them out loud will make things better or worse. 

“I know,” Kevin says after a moment, but Juyeon notices the tension in his shoulders, the way his knuckles seem to protrude as he holds on to his spoon in a death grip, “I just--I don’t want to see you like that again. It--It almost killed me.” 

“Oh don’t be ridiculous.” 

“I’m not,” Kevin’s eyes settle over his, hard and fiery with a determined light, “I’m not being ridiculous. You would-ve--You would’ve--” stumbling over his words, he swallows thickly and continues, “you would’ve died. If...If I hadn’t found out.” 

“And you did, and now this is all in the past,” Juyeon nudges his knee as a sign of affection, “I’m alright, okay? I promise.” 

“You better damn well keep that promise.” 

Juyeon knows without a doubt, that Kevin’s concern stems from that very first moment they started talking; when Kevin found him half-passed out from another vomiting spell, chest heaving and gasping like he’d just run a marathon, and blood dribbling down his mouth because he’d hurt himself trying to stuff his fist down his throat. 

Being only sixteen at the time had caused Kevin to burst into an outright bout of panic. He had dropped to Juyeon’s side without any second thought before shaking the half-dazed boy out of his spell. 

“Hey, hey are you okay? Can you hear me?” he spotted the blood coating the side of Juyeon’s mouth, “oh my god.” 

He quickly ripped some tissue paper, and dabbed at his face while his other hand checked for a pulse, relieved to notice that it was there, albeit its weakness. 

Juyeon had tried shrugging him off, “I’m alright,” his murmur barely made it out of his lips, “just--leave me alone.” 

“And what? See you die?” Kevin was already pulling him up by the arm, “no. We’re going to the nurses’ office. Now.” 

Which was how the two found themselves in the nurse’s office where Juyeon was diagnosed as anorexic. Not that it was surprising, for the latter had known that his symptoms weren’t normal, had looked up his tendencies to realize that they were definitely not normal human behaviour. Not only was it embarrassing for a full-grown man to have issues concerning food, but the fact that Kevin had found him -- and mind, Kevin at that time had been what all the boys had wished to be; the smart, foreign student who aced all his classes and who was charmingly attractive without even the slightest smidge of effort -- made Juyeon’s issues even more embarrassing. 

He’d swivelled around to face the said man the moment they had stumbled out into the hallway. 

“Please,” Juyeon’s voice had broken with emotion,his stomach tight and coiled with apprehension, “please don’t tell anyone about this, they’ll all make fun of it, they will think I’m crazy and--” 

“I won’t tell them.” 

Juyeon’s eyes shot up to meet Kevin’s. His face was soft and open, understanding glimmering through those almond orbs that usually seem so reserved, and Juyeon’s mouth ran dry as the meaningless excuses slowly died at the back of his throat. The only thing he managed to muster out was a soft, “t-thank you,” when really, there had been so many more things he’d wished to say. But Kevin, bless his soul, had merely smiled back. 

From that moment onwards, they had come to a silent agreement of acknowledging each other. It started off with small nods and quick smiles in-between classes, progressing slowly into verbal greeting and casual ‘how are you’s’ whenever they bumped into each other outside their circle of friends. Every time that happened, Kevin ensured that he was doing fine, that he was making time to see a Nutritionist and a Psychiatrist at least once a week, and though it shouldn’t have mattered what Kevin thought when it came to Juyeon’s personal life, his chest had glowed with happiness when catching sight of the pride radiating off Kevin’s face. It was then that Juyeon realized that Kevin, despite not even being his close friend, knew so much more about him that he could imagine.

Kevin, the foreigner, the one who’d suffered through countless judgements and mindless criticism because he came from the other end of the world and wasn’t initially fluent in their language, Kevin who had never even spoken a word to him...Kevin had saved him. 

And Juyeon would forever be grateful. 

“Hey Kevin,” Juyeon glances over at the said man as they slurp their noodles, “thanks, by the way.”

He notices Kevin’s confusion, but adamantly keeps his focus on the now soggy noodles floating in his container, “for what?” 

“For saving me.” 

“Oh come on,” Kevin groans and Juyeon can’t help the smile crawling up his face, “if you’re so thankful, how about shadowing me next time?” 

“I told you I’m not good with kids.” 

“That’s what shadowing is all about.” 

“Uhm, no I’ll pass thanks.” 

Kevin pouts, “I saved your life.” 

“You can’t use that against me. Besides, me being there will only traumatise the children in the ward.” 

Kevin lets out a loud sigh, muttering something along the lines that it is so hard to get young doctor interns to get interested in jobs like pediatricians when there are so many other possibilities like neurosurgery. No wonder Hyunjae has no issues and is practically veneered by all. 

“Fine. You win,” Kevin mutters while throwing him the scariest glare he can muster up. Unfortunately for him, he looks more like a kitten than a tiger, and Juyeon snorts with laughter at his friend’s attempt to look threatening. 

“I love you man,” Juyeon grins. 

“I love you too. But please clean your office more often.”

#deobi playlist #theboyz au #theboyz #tbz #theboyz scenarios #theboyz imagine #tbz imagines #tbz scenarios #the boyz #the boyz imagines #deobidrabbles #tbznetwork #the boyz fanfic #the boyz au #the boyz scenarios #the boyz hyunjae #the boyz juyeon #the boyz kevin #hyunjae fanfic #kevin moon scenarios #juyeon scenarios #juyeon imagines #kevin moon #hospital playlist #kpop fanfiction #kpop imagines #q #chanhee #sunwoo #sangyeon

[pastelwitchling]

For @sp-ac-ep-re-si-de-nt​.

***

               Being the son of Hephaestus, Michael was used to hard work. He had fought Cyclopes with nothing more than a makeshift knife he’d created out of paperclips, copper wire, and a nail. He had won favor with Poseidon after helping him snag a yellowfin tuna the size of the demigod himself using a state-of-the-art fishing rod that launched nets from its hook. He had even gotten a nod of approval from Athena herself when he had designed a battle-ready replica of the Athena Parthenos using bits of old machinery from an abandoned amusement park.

               But there was one battle he never seemed able to win, no matter how hard he tried. People seemed to think that because Aphrodite was the Goddess of Love, then even her children must be regular flirts. Perhaps hopeless romantics? Desperate to be swept off their feet?

               Maybe some of them were. Hades, maybe all of them here. Except one. Because didn’t Alex Manes just always have to be the exception?

               Michael doubted Alex, with his head always in his computer, remembered the first time they’d met, but Michael remembered as if it was yesterday. Demigods are often subjected to a lot of hungry monsters, which meant a lot of danger, which meant that occasionally, as he’s fighting, the son of the Goddess of Love might be thrown by some tentacle-bat-demon into the arms of the son of the God of Fire. He had fallen in love then.

               Michael still remembered the startled look on Alex’s face, the way Michael had barely sat him on the ground before he suddenly pulled Michael in against his chest and took a swing of his sword to kill a monster that had snuck up behind them. The sky had been full of dark clouds, the smell of smoke and death was in the air, and Alex—aside from being covered in ash—had cuts along his cheek and arms. Michael had planned his proposal.

               And it wasn’t as if he didn’t try to get Alex’s attention, but the son of the Goddess of Love seemed to always be busy with his work.

               Michael had tried the subtle approach at first, casually asking Alex if “All that work must put a strain on your relationship, huh?” to which Alex replied with barely a glance in Michael’s direction and a raised brow; “I don’t really have a boyfriend.”

               Then Michael had gone for elegance, and told Alex to “Go out with me,” to which Alex responded with a cool “No, thank you” as if Michael had asked him if he wanted anything from the bakery down the street.

               And the thing that really, truly pained Michael was that Alex looked and felt like the son of Aphrodite. He had a beauty that only intensified with every passing minute. If he was cold, his cheeks and nose turned a deep rosy color. If he was sleepy, his beautiful lips formed a beautiful pout that Michael found he wanted to taste more and more every day. Alex was even beautiful when he cried, his eyes glistening as if they held constellations of their own, each twinkle its own story that Michael was eager to learn of.

               Sometimes, sometimes, Michael got the feeling that maybe Alex could love him, too, but with every “Go out with me,” Michael was met with yet another “No,” and his heart shattered a little more, in a way he would not confess his heart could shatter. For he was the son of Hephaestus, and while he smelled like dirt and sweat most of the time, he wasn’t unpopular with women. He was the ‘Enjoy the Night While It Lasts’ kind of demigod. But then he would see Alex, or hear Alex’s voice, or feel a brief touch of Alex’s fingers against his own, and his rules no longer had any place. A world where Alex wasn’t his—all his—no longer made any sense or mattered.

               But it was fine. But not really. But what Michael actually meant by that was that he had learned to live with the torture. At least, he thought he had until he walked into Alex’s cabin one day, dumped an armful of roses on Alex’s coffee table, demanded—once again—that Alex go out with him, and Alex had curled in deeper on himself from where he had been lying on the couch, his back turned to Michael, and said in a very hoarse and very raw voice, “Not today, Guerin.”

               Michael’s smile faltered. He had heard “No,” had heard “Go away,” and even the dreaded “You’re just not cute enough,” which Alex had always said with the ghost of a smile, and a secret—albeit begrudging—invitation for Michael to come closer, and be as cute as Alex wanted him to be. This time, Alex did not sound as if he was secretly pleased to see the curly-haired demigod. He sounded like he’d been crying.

               “Alex?” Alex did not respond. “Alex…”

               Alex sniffled and hid his face in his couch cushion, the entirety of it breaking Michael’s heart. Michael had never cared for mending hearts—never had the skillset for it—but with Alex, he had always been willing to learn. He had wanted to be the kind of man who Alex could depend on for anything. It was like nothing he had ever strived for before, but then, Alex had always been the exception.

               He kneeled behind Alex, and softly ran his fingers through his windswept dark brown hair (always a perfect mess; damn you, beautiful godly genes). Alex seemed to still beneath his touch, and for a moment, he was turning towards it. Then he seemed to catch himself, and turned away, away from Michael’s hold.

               “Please, Guerin, we can talk tomorrow. I just want to be left alone now.”

               Michael shook his head. If Alex wanted to be left alone—as he was always left alone, which was an odd thing to want, considering who his mother was—then he clearly was too upset to know what he wanted.

               “I’ll sit here,” he said in barely above a whisper, resting his chin on the couch, his nose against Alex’s back, inhaling his warm scent. He wished he could take Alex apart like a clock and look at his gears, figure out what the problem was as only a mechanic could.

               “Please leave,” Alex said in almost a low whine, and Michael shook his head, squeezing and un-squeezing Alex’s waist. “I’m okay, really.”

               “You don’t sound okay.”

               “These aren’t my feelings, they’re – Guerin, I’m okay.”

               “Then look at me.”

               Alex did not move, and Michael set his forehead against Alex’s back. “Whose feelings are they?”

               “What?”

               “You said they weren’t your feelings,” Michael said calmly. “Whose feelings are they?”

               Alex turned over slowly, his red eyes watching Michael intently. “Yours.”

               A lot of people liked to treat Alex like he was an idiot, or like his opinion didn’t really matter because of who his mother was. Michael supposed that was why Alex worked so hard, to prove that he was more than just the Goddess of Love’s son. That was why it caught Michael at a bit of a surprise to hear Alex talk about feelings and his empathetic powers, being such a rational and calm man that he usually is.

               Michael tried not to show the electricity and warmth surging throughout his body in an instant at the tenderness in that one word.

               He wiped a tear from Alex’s cheek with his thumb. “Mine?”

               Alex searched Michael’s face, and his eyes filled with tears again, his brows furrowing as if he couldn’t process everything he was feeling. Michael muttered, “Oh no, no, shh, shh,” as he brought an arm around Alex’s waist, holding him close.

               “You–you love so deeply, I can feel it. But your heart’s so… broken. The pain of it, Guerin,” Alex’s voice cracked. “It’s killing me. How are you still alive?”

               For you, he almost said, or something along those graceful lines, but what ended up leaving Michael’s lips was, “My heart isn’t broken.”

               It was a lie. And Alex knew it. In his defense, Michael was good at not thinking about things that bothered him, at only looking at the pros without considering the cons, but he couldn’t look Alex in the eyes and tell him he didn’t have his doubts. Michael couldn’t tell Alex he wasn’t genuinely afraid that the son of the Goddess of Love just didn’t feel that way about him, and was just too kind to tell him that truth.

               Still, those were Michael’s nightmares. They didn’t have to be Alex’s.

               “It’s because of me, isn’t it?” Alex asked, and Michael’s grip on his sweater tightened.

               “Damn, baby,” he muttered, resting his forehead against Alex’s, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “How tired are you?”

               Alex wrapped his arms around Michael’s shoulders, and pulled him in, burying his face in the crook of Michael’s neck.

               “I’m a jerk,” Alex said, and Michael shook his head. His beautiful Alex. “I’m such a jerk.”

               “Hey,” Michael pulled back, holding Alex’s face tightly in his hands. “This is my problem. Not yours. It’s not your fault you don’t love me, Alex. I’m not angry at you for it.”

               Alex’s eyes fell shut, another tear escaped, and Michael felt his heart shatter to pieces. He wondered if Alex could feel that, too.

               “But I do,” he said. “I love you, but I… I never thought you could actually love me.”

               “You—” Michael’s brows furrowed. “You—what? You love me?”

               “I love you,” Alex said, and he pulled away, wrapping his arms around himself as if trying to protect himself. “But… I couldn’t be sure that you felt the same.”

               “What do you mean?” Michael asked, reaching for Alex because not being able to touch him now was so dreadfully painful.

               “Michael,” he said, and never before had Michael heard his name said so sadly. “I’m Aphrodite’s son. I’m not an idiot to think no one’s ever been attracted to me, but I fell in love with you so quickly. I didn’t think you felt anything real for me, but I liked having your attention, and when you flirted, and when you came close to me.”

               “You thought I was under some spell?” Michael never even considered that. That maybe what he felt was the Greek charm of Aphrodite, and not anything actually to do with Alex. And he found himself laughing with disbelief, moving up to Alex and holding him close to forbid him from moving away again. “My Alex, my beautiful, beautiful Alex.”

               “I was wrong,” Alex cried against his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around him. “I was wrong, I’m so sorry.”

               Michael kept repeating “My Alex” over and over into Alex’s hair, running a hand up and down Alex’s back as if to both comfort him, and reassure himself that Alex was in his arms, that he wasn’t dreaming, that he finally got to touch him like this.

               “I’ve hurt you so much,” Alex said. “Can you ever forgive me?”

               “Forgive you?” Michael pulled him in deeper until he could feel Alex against his very heart. He had never been the only one suffering, the only one whose heart was breaking. He wondered what went through Alex’s head whenever Michael asked him out, told him he loved him. Did he just think Michael was lying? That maybe he didn’t really want to be with him? Michael had always thought that being a child of the Goddess of Love was a gift, to have all that beauty and wonder about you that no one could resist you. Now he could see he had been terribly wrong. How could Alex have ever handled it? Never trusting that someone could love you for you.

               “What do you want me to say? So you’ll believe how much I love you?” he whispered. “I’ll do anything, Alex. Just believe that I love you.”

               Alex exhaled slowly, then, with timid fingers, reached up and lightly took Michael’s jaw. Michael felt his heart thrashing wildly in his chest as Alex took his lips with his own. At first, he didn’t dare react beyond pursing his lips, then he felt Alex begin to pull back, and part of him panicked. Panicked that Alex was pulling away at all, that he was hurt at Michael’s lack of response, that he would stop kissing Michael.

               So Michael grabbed Alex’s shoulders and pushed him down on the couch, hovering above him and kissing him hungrily. He had known Alex’s lips were soft, but he never could’ve imagined that he felt this good. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, putting his hands on Alex’s waist, hesitant. Would he be allowed to touch more of him? To run his hands up Alex’s sweater, down his pants, to feel his chest, his stomach, everything?

               He didn’t know, but if he wasn’t, it didn’t matter. This was enough. To have Alex so close was enough. For now.

               When they pulled back to breathe, their foreheads rested together, Michael opened his eyes slightly, and took in Alex’s face. He felt pride swell in his chest at the look Alex had on; the immense pleasure and peace that overtook his expression.

               “Can you tell what I’m feeling?” he whispered.

               “Yes,” Alex breathed. “I can feel it so strongly.” He opened his eyes, holding Michael’s own. No one had ever made Michael feel as if he was on a cloud, had ever wrung so many emotions out of him at once, had overwhelmed him with so much love that Michael didn’t know how to begin to handle it, but made him excited to try. But then, Alex was always his exception.

“Touch me, Michael,” Alex begged, giving him all the permission he needed. So Michael did.

***

SORRY. I did most of this last night, but fell asleep as I was working. Finally got it finished though. Also, I know it sucks, but I kind of liked it, and I wanted to post it anyway? I’m trying to be more okay with not obsessing over every word because it, you know, drives me crazy.

#malex #alex manes #michael guerin #malex one shot #malex demigod au #malex fanfic #malex fic #malex fanfiction #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #malex angst #malex fluff #tyler blackburn #michael vlamis

[brianc521]

Mendes Recording Co. | Lights On

He can’t help himself, she’s dressed in those ripped blue jeans and suddenly she’s got this glow?  It’s why he’s been a little more playful, a little more handsy, and why he almost kissed when she arrived at the studio this morning.

She had brought him a coffee, giggling about the joke the barista had written on her lid, and then smiling brightly up at him he started to lean in a little. She didn’t pull away, and leaned just that much closer, if anything she parted her lips, eyes widening in excitement.

But her phone started ringing from her desk, making the couple jump apart, both gasping since the room felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of it.

He’s laughing at the way she keeps messing up what she’s writing, teasing her by scooting a little closer every time she leans down to write.

“Stop!” She hits his shoulder, laughing as he throws his head back.

“I’m not doing anything,”

“You’re distracting me,” She whines, pushing her bottom lip out in an adorable pout that could bring him to his knees if she used it correctly.

“Oh no, how should you fix that?” He leans closer, eyes focusing on her lips, then flicking to her eyes.

She inhales sharply, licking her lips, watching as Shawn watches, his eyes dilating.

“Okay?” He leans closer, his breath now fanning her face.

“Mhm,” She hums, relaxing when his nose brushes hers.

Shawn’s about to take the last step, press his lips to hers, but the door to the studio opens, James walking through and banging his guitar case into the wall on accident.

“Sorry!” He calls out.

Shawn sighs, head dropping a bit, forehead leaning against hers as she giggles softly.

She stands and takes a deep breath as she walks to the front of the studio to greet James.

“Hey!” Her cheeks are flushed from Shawn’s attention, and her brain feels all out of sorts.

“Sorry!” James says again, as he looks at the wall making sure he didn’t put a whole through it.

“You’re fine,” She smiles, waving him to the booth. “Think Shawn’s ready for you.”

Shawn quickly catches her hand before she hits him from her wave.

“Oh!” She yelps, not realizing that he was right behind her. “Sorry,” She mumbles.

“You’re fine,” He says lowly, voice in her ear making her melt.

“Are we recording today?” James asks with a bright smile, pulling Shawn back to reality.

“Yeah, I think we’re ready,” He nods.

“Let me know if you need anything, I have a few calls to make and emails to return.” She says, back now to Shawn’s front, his hand on her hip.

James heads into the booth, not noticing the growing chemistry between the other two.

“Mkay,” Shawn hums, resting his chin on her shoulder. “I’ll let you know when we’re done,”

She nods, and the goosebumps rise when his presence leaves. She looks over her shoulder, watching him walk out, and blushing hard when he winks at her, biting his lip.

“Fuck,” She brings her hands to her face once the door to the booth closes.

**

The door opens and she looks up from her computer where she was responding to John Mayer about hopefully having some new talent to grace his radio station.

James walks in, all smiles and pink cheeks.

“How was it?” She asks, hands still on her keyboard, eyes on him.

“Amazing, we actually recorded the song, and Shawn’s talking an EP, radio time, everything!”

She nods, “I’m so excited to see where you go.”

“Thanks so much Y/n, you’ve been so helpful through this process, I appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem, now go celebrate!” She shoos him out of the building, grinning at his buzzing self leaving.

She looks back to her computer, eyebrows furrowed in confusion since Shawn hasn’t come to tell her how recording went.

She brushes it off to him working. She goes back to that too, typing out the rest of her email and sending it off before answering a call about Niall’s interview schedule, to which she directed them to Niall’s new manager.

She stands, ready to start cleaning up for close, softly singing ‘Slow Hands’. When she steps into the booth Shawn notices from his office. She’s singing just loud enough that he can hear her if he turns the mic on.

She’s tidying up the room, bending over to fix the rugs, and when she stands back up, flipping her hair over her shoulder he’s up out of his seat, over being interrupted and having to wait.

He walks in the room, a man on a mission, and she looks up in surprise as he stalks towards her. He reaches out, taking her face into his hands, finally pressing his lips to hers.

She moans, causing his eyes to roll back into his head at the sound. Her hands grip the sides of his shirt, pulling him closer as their lips move in sync, his tongue cautiously dipping into her mouth, and then dominating as she seems to melt into him.

His hands are holding her face, fingertips in her hair, right hand sliding into her locks, pulling down just enough to expose her neck, his lips taking the chance to tour the new territory.

“Shawn,” Shawn breathes, eyes shut, back arching, pushing her chest into him.

“God you smell amazing,” He groans, kissing back up to her mouth. “Why did we wait to do this?”

“Because you’re stupid,” She mumbles, yelping lightly when he lifts her up, making her legs wrap around his torso.

“Not anymore,” He shakes his head, setting her on the piano, hands fumbling with the buttons of her shirt.

**

She’s slowly starting to fall asleep on his chest, her lashes fluttering every time she attempts to wake herself up.

“Go to sleep,” He whispers against her forehead, planting a kiss there.

She nods, holding him tighter as she tangles her legs with his, the small throw couch blanket barely big enough to cover them, but with them wrapped around each other it fits just enough.

Shawn lays there, holding his girl, staring at the ceiling, thinking about what just happened.

It was mind blowing, but the thing he didn’t think about  before was how this might affect their work relationship.

Would this put the business in jeopardy, would he lose her as a business partner?

All these unknown questions haunt him as she wraps herself around hims tighter, pressing a soft kiss to his bare chest.

**

She wakes the next morning, alone.

She sits up abruptly, looking around, confused as to how she ended up on the couch, wrapped in the blanket. She grabs her shirt and pants, pulling them on clumsily, looking up when Shawn walks into the room.

“Um,” She starts, looking at how he’s in new clothing, showered and hair done.

“Morning,” He nodded, walking past her to his office.

She stares at him as he walks past. What the fuck?

“Shawn?” She asks.

“I called Niall and asked him to come in a re record ‘This Town’, he’ll be here in an hour, so if you want to go home an change I’m okay with that,” Shawn doesn’t look at her as he speaks.

She scoffs, picking up her shoes and storming out of the booth, swiping her purse on her way out the door.

Shawn watches as she walks out with a deep scowl on her face.

He sighs, slumping into his chair, rubbing a hand over his face.

He knows she doesn’t understand what he’s trying to do, he’s just trying to keep work and personal life separate, and while that’s mixing because she’s now become both, he’s still attempting the separate part.

He knew he needed to tell her before she left, and he planned on it, he just didn’t plan on her storming out of the studio.

**

“What do you mean you fucked up?” Her sister asks, while she sits in her car in her apartment parking garage.

“We fucked last night,” She sighs, cringing.

“What?”

“Yeah, like we’ve been flirting since I was hired, and he finally made a move that lead to a lot of other moves,” She explains.

“Was it good?”

“Oh my god don’t ask that question!” She yelps at her sister.

“I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong!”

“He regrets it,” She whispers, lump in her throat growing, tears stinging her eyes.

“How do you know that?”

“Because I woke up alone on the couch when I fell asleep on his chest on the floor. He had obviously been home while I was asleep, so who’s to say he even stayed at all. And he told me I should go home and change before our first session starts in an hour,”

Her sister gasps, shocked any man would act that way.

“I fucked up so bad, because I love my job, and this just ruined that. How am I supposed to face him after last night, especially if he regrets it.”

“Honey I think you need to take a moment to yourself.”

“Me too,” She sighs, getting out of her car and going to her apartment.

“Take the day to find yourself and make a game plan okay, I have to go pick up Blake from school, but text me if you need too.”

“Okay,” She sighs, unlocking her door and making her way inside.

**

Niall is setting up his guitar and adjusting the mic stand as Shawn paces the office, worried about her.

She never returned back to the studio, and she hasn’t answered his text.

He pulls his phone out and calls her, and on the last ring she answers.

“Yes?” Her voice is rough and scratchy.

“Hey,” He says softly, turning away from the window, alluding to some sort of privacy. “What happened?”

She scoffs for the second time that day before taking a deep breath. “I need to stay home today, I need a personal day,”

Shawn’s heart clenches, “What happened?” He asks again.

“I just have a lot to think about.”

His shoulder slump. “I wanted to talk to you,” He whispers.

“There’s no need, I got the picture,”

Shawn’s about to protest when he’s met with the dial tone, telling him; she hung up.

** Tags: @minniemcgoo \\ @softboyshawn \\ @lettherosesgrow \\ @shawnsassymendes \\ @spideys-wife \\ @justanotherfangurl272 \\ @alinaxxshawn \\ @ilovejackavery 

#shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes request #shawnmendes imagine #shawnmendes fluff #shawnmendes blurb #shawnmendes fic #shawnmendes request #shawn mendes #shawnmendes #shawn #mendes #mendes recording co #new series #lights on #sam phillips inspired? #sun records inspired?

[jawnjendes]

the truth hurts but secrets kill | shawn mendes

chapter 8/?, university au, shawn x goth oc

AN: lol the taglist didnt work on my last chapter so if you havent read but i’ll show you my teeth pls do eet. anyways this chapter is an angsty buildup full of angst. my specialty.

***let me know if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist

masterlist | playlist coming soon

"Where do you live?" Annalise asked for what felt like the thousandth time.

"Do you even think she's capable of answering?" Patrick said, his arm supporting Alessia's waist as he helped her stumble down the university road.

The Lyft to campus went without any major issue. Alessia did not puke in the car, she merely leaned against the door in the backseat. Annalise had gotten annoyingly chatty with the driver, talking about childhood trauma and the inevitability of death. She claimed it was practice for when she's a real therapist, though the driver was trying to focus on the road. Patrick left the driver a generous tip through the app.

The three of them were left just close enough to the dorms, but there was still a walk to be had, and it felt like it was taking centuries with how much Alessia slowed them down. Annalise kept looking around at the dark surroundings as they paced with her pocket knife in hand. Alessia mumbled something incoherent, her head lolling from side to side.

"I've never heard of that building, where is it?" Annalise asked her.

"Dude, you're gonna have to take her back to your place," Patrick told her. "I don't even think she knows her own name."

With a reluctant sigh, Annalise closed her pocket knife and wrapped her arm around the smaller girl's waist. They were approaching the corner where she and Patrick would typically part ways. Alessia noticed the shift and leaned all her weight into Annalise, mumbling under her rancid breath. It wasn't her first time babysitting a drunk toddler, but that doesn't mean she likes doing it.

Patrick was kind enough to walk the two girls up to Annalise's dorm. Alessia was swaying ominously in the elevator, like she wanted to be cradled like a baby. She was definitely ready for bed.

"Ya casi, mi vida," Annalise said as they stumbled down the third floor corridor.

"Why do you call her that?" Patrick asked. "’Me veeda.’ Isn't that what you would call your boyfriend?"

"It's the same thing as a waitress would call you sweetie or something," she replied. "Or the way you'd talk to a toddler. A drunk one."

She managed to pull her key from her back pocket and give it to Patrick. He unlocked the appropriate door, and the three of them were met with more people and more loud music.

Apparently, Stella hadn't planned on staying alone this Saturday night. She was on the armchair, with Camila squished in right next to her. They weren't alone, either. Shawn and Brian were on the couch, each holding a beer. All four of them stared at the two goths holding the short normie up on two feet.

"Oh my god, you're right on time!" Stella exclaimed. "Shawn's working on an EP! He's giving a us a preview! And he made another duet with Camila!"

"Este guey se puso peda," Annalise said with mild snark, gesturing to the girl on her arm. "I'm gonna put her down."

"You're gonna kill her?" Patrick asked, his blue eyes wide. "Damn, I didn't know you hated her that much!"

"Shut up, I brought her here, didn't I?"

She did not look at the guests on the couch as she carefully led Alessia to her bedroom. She ignored Patrick starting up a conversation with everyone. She had things to do, and it was hard enough with her fluffy mind racing.

"There we go, my dear," she said as she sat the intoxicated girl on the bed. "Acuestate, mija. Tomorrow's gonna suck, but you can rest now."

She patted Alessia's head before moving to take off her sneakers. Then, Annalise took her phone from her jacket pocket and plugged it into the charger on then nightstand. Before she could sigh in relief that they all made it back alive, she heard a voice at the door.

"Hey, you."

When Annalise turned to face him, it was like a million fireworks went off at once. Her entire body froze in the best way, and the air in her lungs was knocked out of her. He's even prettier in person.

"Someone have too much fun?" he asked, nodding towards the now sleeping Alessia.

Annalise could not tear her eyes away from his face long enough to think of an answer. All she wanted to do was stare at him for the rest of eternity.

Then, Patrick came up from behind Shawn, an amused grin on his face. "Bro, she's high as a kite right now."

Shawn looked confused for a moment and then turned to him. "Ann doesn't smoke."

"She used to all the fucking time last year." Patrick was still grinning. "She wanted to have fun tonight, so I gave her a hit of my pen."

"So you drugged her up, eh?"

"Bro-"

"I'm not your bro. Don't you care about her health at all? Don't you remember she was in the hospital a couple of months ago?"

The grin faded. "I care about her and her freedom. Not that I have to explain that to you." Patrick excused himself.

Annalise heard every word, but her wide eyes were still on Shawn. She was stepping towards him before she even realized, and then her arms were going around his middle. He was still warm and soft and he smelled good. It was like personified crack. Annalise smiled as her head rested on his chest. "I love you, my baby."

Shawn hesitated, but he hugged her back. "Love you too." Then he pulled back, his hands on her shoulders. "Where are you gonna sleep?"

"The couch." Annalise's fingers were gripping the back of his t-shirt.

"You sure? Wouldn't you rather come stay with me? I'm leaving soon anyway."

Annalise giggled so much her voice squeaked. But she frowned almost instantly. "Don't be like Chad."

"Who's Chad?"

"No one important. I think sober Annalise is gonna be mad at you."

"What? Why?"

She pointed to the sleeping girl on the bed. "That one told high Annalise some things. Sober Annalise might not even remember, but if she does, she'll probably talk to you on check in day. Like, actual talking this time."

"Why can't we talk now?" Shawn asked. "I think high-you will be more understanding than sober-you."

"High Annalise is stupidly in love with you. We'll get nowhere, my dear."

He chewed the inside of his cheek as he gazed down at her. "Yeah, you always call me cute names when you're on drugs. Like that time in the hospital. And all those times you got high with me. Oh wait…" he trailed off. "Every time I asked you to smoke with me you said you didn't trust me enough. But tonight you trusted somebody else, eh?"

She giggled. "I knew you'd be mad at me too. We have much to talk about, baby boy."

~

In theory, the reason for Alessia's disappearance the following morning would be that she remembered the tea she spilled upon waking up and now she wanted to avoid the wrath of the goth girlfriend. In reality, she wouldn't be entirely wrong.

Even after sleeping for twelve hours, Annalise couldn't get those bits of forbidden information out of her head. She had dreams about catching Shawn and Alessia having really loud sex, but she woke up to hear her roommate doing exactly that. Then, she had a recurring dream of Shawn admitting to cheating on her, except this time he had twelve versions of Henry the orange tabby surrounding him. The last dream she remembered having was one where she ended up back in the hospital, and that she was given no anesthesia for her surgery. She had her stomach removed, and she watched every drop of blood and guts come out of the gaping hole in her body.

She woke with a start after every one of these vivid dreams. Maybe it was the after effects of being stoned, but she felt uneasy for that whole day. She typically binged to her heart's content, but the hospital dream was still on her mind. She allowed herself to have a Lunchables, but not much else.

Then, Monday rolled around and Annalise found it difficult to act like a person. She got out of bed, had an unsatisfying breakfast. She did it, and that's the only thing that matters right? Screw all the other feelings. The paranoia she felt after the Abnormal Psych lecture about eating disorders doesn't matter. The impending embarrassing discomfort  from sitting alone at a table in Bio Lab doesn't matter either. Who cares about the sad ache in her chest after seeing Shawn and Alessia leave their class together? Who cares if they're still in high spirits even though they knew that Annalise knew? Who cares?

Annalise doesn't, that's for damn sure. She was perfectly fine. She pushed herself out of bed today even though she wanted nothing more than to induce a coma on herself. Who cares if she still felt shitty after?

Although, she was putting off the impending chat with Shawn until check in on Saturday. He had to know it was coming, why else would he just stop texting her?

Unless he's already with Alessia, and therefore playing me like a violin. Maybe Shawn was just ignoring me to make me go crazy.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Annalise whispered as she put on her headphones. She was glad she caught herself slipping, she didn't want the wide-eyed crazies on display as she walked out of the Social Studies building.

Her steps were slower and more careful as she picked a song to play from her phone. After settling for Halsey, she pulled out her black, round sunglasses and put them on. Gotta hide them nightmare eyes.

Maybe… perhaps… I need to check in earlier than normal?

"Don't be stupid," she told herself.

It wouldn't hurt though, would it? Maybe he would be happy to see me since I would be breaking my own rule. Unless, of course, he's hanging around Alessia again. Perhaps he doesn't care anymore.

The only solution Annalise had was to dump herself on the couch in the dorm and play Tetris 99 until the thoughts and feelings sorted themselves out.

When Stella came home, she knew the drill. She sat on the couch and ranted about her day. She rambled on about her fascist history professor and the lack of a GSA club on campus. Then, she mentioned a Halloween party coming up at one of the frat houses, and that she needed a hot costume.

It was the month where Annalise and all her spooky darkness was socially acceptable, and she couldn't even be excited about it. A different type of darkness was taking over, and it was stupid that it was over a boy. Why did she have to be so dramatic? Why was she so goddamn crazy?

"I'll pick your costume," she said over Stella's rambling.

She paused, her brilliant hazel eyes wide. To say she was surprised that Annalise cracked so fast would be an understatement. But she smiled. "Would you? Ooo, can I pick yours?"

"Ah, I don't think I'm gonna do anything for Halloween this year."

"What? But it's your favorite holiday! You need to come to this party with me! Buddy system, remember?"

"Is that the only reason-"

"Of course not, you dummy! We haven't spent enough time together since the semester started! Let's go find some costumes, yeah? I'll even let you dress me up as scary as you want!"

Stella's a good friend. Annalise should really try harder to spend time with her. Why didn't she try to be a good friend in return?

They went to the local costume store that Friday. It gave Annalise a wonderful excuse to not go to the gaming club meeting. She really did not want to reflect on the Bart adventure, or see just how bad she fucked up Chad's nose.

After returning to campus with a dark but still cute witch costume, Stella was summoned to Camila's dorm. She thanked Annalise for the lovely costume choice and practically abandoned her. Annalise couldn't find it in her to really care. It was only a few more hours until Saturday.

She had barely settled herself on the couch when her phone buzzed. For the first time this week, Shawn had texted her. Annalise held her phone up, staring blankly at the screen. Her heart should be pounding right now, shouldn't it?

"Hey, I know check in is tomorrow but I can't make it at our usual time. I have a gig tomorrow night. You should come and we can talk after."

The next text was the address to the lounge he would be performing at.

Any other time, Annalise would have been happy to know Shawn was performing again. But he cancelled on her, knowing that he was in trouble. Is that what it took for him to start booking shows again? Was this just an elaborate way to avoid Annalise? Perhaps this was just some form of reverse psychology so she wouldn't go to the gig.

You can't psych out a psychology major. Of course Annalise was going to this gig.

However, she had a mostly sleepless night, really unable to shake the fact that Shawn was probably avoiding her. When she finally did sleep, she slept too much. Annalise woke up in the afternoon and was late for work. She had planned to ask if she could leave early, but she didn't dare try anything now. The gig was at eight, when her shift ended. She ended up going to the lounge in her work uniform, a button up with the dealership name on, and baggy slacks. Not exactly the sexy outfit she had planned during the late hours of insomnia.

The show had already started by the time she got there. As she was showing her ID to the bouncer, she heard Shawn's voice over the mic, and she felt something for the first time in days. Her stomach felt tight as she slowly stepped into the lounge.

The turnout was decent. Every single table and bar stool was occupied, and all eyes were on the band performing on the stage. Annalise looked around for any empty space; She wasn't dressed her best but she did want to be anywhere but against the wall opposite the stage. Her eyes spotted the group of people standing directly in front of the stage.

It was the normal group of girls who swooned every time Shawn blinked, but there were also three other girls that Annalise knew all too well. They were jumping and singing along to Lost in Japan, not a single care in the world. Annalise wondered why Stella didn't tell her that she was going to this event, but the way she looked at Camila as they sang to each other said enough. Maybe they chose Alessia to be their new third wheel too. So Alessia was too embarrassed to face Annalise, but not Shawn?

Annalise always stood in the back of every one of Shawn's shows, knowing she would stick out like a sore thumb in the midst of the usual fangirls. Not that that's a bad thing, it just wasn't her usual place to be. She figured that showing up at all would be enough.

Perhaps Shawn already had enough. Three of his friends were already cheering him on, and surely he had more of them scattered in the audience. Not to mention, the people here that didn't know him were going to adore him by the end of the night. Besides, Shawn most likely invited her as a ploy to get her to turn it down. She wasn't needed here. Annalise chewed the inside of her lip as she back up towards the exit. She stepped outside, away from the people trying to get in, and she pulled her phone out. She composed a new text:

"Hey, I'm drowning in work so I won't make it to your show. I'll meet you at your place later so we can talk🖤"

_______

taglist: @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @ilsolee @mendesromano @1-800-khalid-mendussy @kitykatnumber @strangerliaa @iloveshawnieboi @poppyshawn @shawnsunflower @shawnvvmendes @ruinhoney @someoneunimportantxx @calyumthomas @yourdeflightfullyleft @havethetimeeofyourlifee @shawmndes @wronglanemendes @chillingbythesea 

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes smut #shawn x goth gf #yaint ready for the next chapter lol #im not even ready #it was so draining to write omg

[alittlemissfit]

Their Struggle

My angsty attempt to wrestle with the last words in the damn train wreck we were given. Post-ep, MSIV.  @today-in-fic

He feels it in the hug they share on the dock. She starts trembling in his arms and when he pulls back, he sees her face has gone disturbingly pale. She’s having trouble catching her breath and his eyes fall to her stomach. She’s pregnant and not breathing and their son was just shot in cold blood by a nicotine addicted bastard, and his blood runs cold but he forces it to stop.

He can’t go cold, he can’t go numb. She’s already done that enough for the both of them and by the look on her face it’s clearly taken it’s toll.

“Scully, c’mon. Breathe. Breathe, honey. I got ya,” he soothes, rubbing her back before pulling back slightly. Her eyes are still too wide, her panting too pronounced. If he doesn’t keep her steady she’ll faint and the last thing he can handle is explaining the horrific components of this night to EMT’s and nurses. He guides her away. Impersonates a pillar of strength when all he wants is to crumble to dust and be scattered in the sea to join his flesh and blood. His hand moves from the small of her back to her belly just briefly enough to counteract his will to jump off the dock, right as sirens start wailing and the squad cars pull up. They sit huddled in blankets in the back of the ambulance. Watch as the scene is surveyed and body bags are zipped up. Once the divers are sent towards the dock though Mulder swears, throws the blanket off his shoulders. Shoving past the EMT’s and the cop taking their statements he walks back towards the warehouse, chokes back a sob and punches through the first wall his fist finds. Approaching footsteps don’t deter him but a familiar grip on his bicep does. He turns slightly, winded. Sees her standing before him draped in bleached grey wool. Her eyes are wide and watery and the tears he’d blinked back start flowing full force. He’s full on weeping and she crouches beside him on the ground, strokes his hair. All the while she answers the cop’s questions in such a clinical, removed fashion it sends a chill down his spine. When she’s done giving their statements she helps him into a standing position. He’s hesitant, he makes a move to head back to the dock but she stops him. They’ll be notified. He’s in shock. He needs sleep. Too drained to argue with her they head to where the car is parked. The walk is silent save some crickets and Scully's keeping a brisk pace, remaining at least two steps ahead of him the entire time.

He pulls the key fob from his back pocket, unlocks the car. Before he can take another step she lets herself in the driver’s side door. “Scully..” “Get in the car, Mulder,” she rasps, reaching a hand out to take the keys from him. He gets in the passenger seat, buckles up and she speeds towards the highway. He holds his tongue when she rolls through a stop sign, instead opting to recline the seat back and stare up through the moonroof at the stars. His eyes get heavy and it doesn’t register that they’re home until she taps his shoulder. They trudge up the porch steps and she lets them in with her key. He promptly kicks off his shoes, sinks onto the couch while she gingerly slides off her coat. He sees her hand trembling as she hangs it on the coat rack and before he knows it, the quaking spreads to her entire body. She wraps her arms around herself and Mulder hops to his feet, moves to stand behind her. “Shhh, shh.” Her breathing is rapid again and he resists the urge to pull her to his chest, hold her as close as possible. His hands go to her shoulders but she steps away, quickly perches on the nearby ottoman. “Scully..” “I just need to sit. Just need to sit down. I…I..” She’s still fighting to take a full fucking breath and he kneels down in front of her. Tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re still shaking, Scully.” “It’s fine. I…it’ll pass.” “But you-“ “Mulder, I'm fine!” Shaking his head he reaches for the afghan draped over the back of the easy chair. He moves to drape it over her but she recoils. “I’m not cold, damn it!" Scoffing he shoves the blanket into her lap, stands and turns on his heel. “Could’ve fooled me.”

The words leave his mouth before he even thinks them. Before he considers the implications and how they’ll land.

Balled up cloth is lobbed hard at the back of his head and he lets out a slow breath, pivots to face her

“Say that to my face.”

“Scully,” he pleads. Voice gruff he swallows back a lump in his throat, bows his head while she marches up to him. “Look at me and say that!" His eyes are fixed on the carpet, his feet that stagger, shuffle backward when she shoves him hard in the chest. “Look at me!"

Her voice is scratchy and shrill. It hurts his ears, hurts him to hear her. It all just fucking hurts. But she’s the only one not in the morgue tonight capable of understanding and feeling that hurt. At least he’s praying to her God that she can.

“If my being cold is my stating the facts, seeing the truth in front of me for the absolute hell that it is…” “Scully…” “The same truth that we risked our careers for, that we sacrificed for, lost loved ones for. That we became partners for...”

Her voice breaks as he meets her eyes. “This is part of our truth now, Mulder.” “I understand, Scully,” he says gruffly. “And I’m sorry. Please, you...you don’t have to-" "William wanted us to let him go. William was not meant to be. William was an experiment. William was an idea born in a laboratory.” She’s speaking raggedly, swiping tears away with her hand before her eyes surrender, squeeze shut. “Scully…" "I carried him. I bore him, but I….I was never a mother to him.” Her head bowed, shaking, Mulder moves in closer. Pulls her as tight as he can to his chest. “He wasn’t meant to be, he was an experiment. He was an idea. He..he wanted us to let him go. He wanted us to let him go,”

She repeats herself. Makes the words her mantra. Her face is pressed into his chest as her tears soak his shirt.

“I need to let go, Mulder. I don’t have a choice. I…I, damn it! I’ve never had a choice!”

Moving out of his hold she grabs a glass paperweight off of the desk.

“I should’ve been the one to shoot Spender,” she spits, throwing the tchotchke against the kitchen counter before reaching for a vase. Smashing the ceramic against the far wall.

“I should’ve made the bastard hurt. I should’ve him suffer. I should’ve stood there to watch him bleed out. I should’ve pushed his corpse off the dock myself.”

“I know,” Mulder says roughly. “Scully, I emptied my clip into him. One third of it for you, one third for William, one third for me. But if you’d been standing there, if...if I knew.”

“I should’ve known. I...I had every test run when I’d found out. But paternity..”

“You wanted to believe.”

Taking her by the shoulders Mulder gently turns her towards him.

“I did believe! I believed when I put him in your arms that night,” she chokes out, breaking free of his hold for the mantle this time.

She pushes off a row of books and their bookends, whips a Buddha statue into the corner and a candle into the railing before scrambling back for the last object. She has her hand around it and aims to throw until her thumb grazes the filled in crack in the small glass dome.

Breath hitching, she staggers back to sit back down on the couch. Turning the snow globe over in her palm she shakes it gently, watches the flakes and glitter fall on the windmill.

All Mulder can do is shake his head, look down at her pained.

“Scully…”

“He told me when he handed this back to me not to give up on the bigger picture. I…I didn’t know what that meant. I still don’t.”

“I think it means,” he says solemnly, sitting beside her as she curls into his side. “That when you’re ready, to try and see beyond the facts, Scully.”

“But they're right there, Mulder. They’re right there. All staring us in the face."

“And doing nothing but causing pain and fear and grief. I know. All that darkness is always going to be part of our truth, but the only truth that matters to me right now, in this moment, lies in that bigger picture. I know it’s not as cut and dry and logical as you’d like but it's simple, Scully. It’s clear.”

“Tell me what you see,” she begs.

“As long as you don’t accuse me of running a seance. I know your stance on those,” Mulder says, earning a flicker of a soft smile.

“What I see is you and I together. We’re safe, we're temporarily out of work, but have all the more time to put finishing touches on the nursery. We have a girl. We used to have a boy. He was taken from us, taken from us way too soon. But he knew how much we loved him. He told us so.”

“But I questioned it. I asked him how he knew. What kind of mother asks her son that?”

“The kind of mother that’s forced to. The kind that doesn’t have a choice.”

She softly whimpers then and he pulls her onto his lap, strokes her hair.

“You have a choice now though, you understand? If…if you can’t handle this, if it’s too much…forget what I said about the nursery, what I said on the dock. There’s more to me than fatherhood, Scully. There’s you. There’s your health, your happiness, your plans for the rest of your life. If those include a baby, or if they don’t…I understand. I just pray they’ll include me.”

“You didn’t need to light the candle next to mine to ensure that,” she says softly, nuzzling her cheek into his chest.

"I need you, Fox.”

Brushing his lips on the top of her head he swallows hard, holds her tighter.

“I need you too.”

“I do want this for us. I want to believe it’ll happen. But I’m afraid. I’m 54. I can’t let go of another child. But what...what if it happens? What if I can’t stop it?”

“I don’t know, Scully. I...I wish I could guarantee things. I wish it was twenty years ago. I know you said prayers aren’t wishes, but I’ll light a few candles. I’ll light a hundred if I know it’ll do any good.”

“There’s no way of knowing, Mulder. But it couldn’t hurt.”

Slowly she climbs off his lap, ducks into the bathroom as he gets to his feet. Picks the votive off the floor along with the fortunately unbroken Buddha. Going over to the fireplace he throws a log bag in, lights it before scraping up as many tea lights and cupcake candles as he can find.

When she exits the bathroom the lights are off as flames dance and flicker, casting a glow on Mulder’s face as he lies back against the arm of the couch.

“It’s not a hundred, but the fires gotta be at least thirty or forty, right?”

“That seems like a fair estimate, yeah,” she says, wiping her eyes with her sleeve before reaching for the snow globe. She gives it a shake as he shifts over, makes room for her to lie beside him.

“You’re not shaking anymore.”

“Bigger picture,” she murmurs, bringing his hand to her belly after setting the snow globe on his chest. 

“I’m thinking about the bigger picture.”

#xf fanfic #msr #fox mulder #dana scully #xf season 11 #my struggle iv #one shot that's on the longer side #i wrote this #fuck chris carter

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Comfortable

I think this might fall under @leiascully‘s Rest challenge ... yeah ... I’m gonna slap it under that category and call it a day :)

Also, it’s a post-ep for ‘Millennium’ ... 

Enjoy 8^)

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Mulder hadn’t seen her this weary in a long time … months since she had shadows that dark under her eyes, skin as pale as winter sunshine, lips faded to a hint of the rose they should be. Walking towards him, he stood immediately, taking in her exhaustion with a blinking glance, “hey there.”

She didn’t really answer, more like nodded her head with the illusion of giving a shit that she was upright and mobile. Dropping her bag on the floor by the coat rack and her shoes beside it, she brandished a file folder, tossed it to his lap, missed, didn’t care, ignored the sheaf of paper fanned across the hardwood and crawled, wobbled, swayed, landed face first across his couch.

He didn’t argue, taking in her rapidly encompassing coma state as a sign to keep his mouth shut of any and all sarcastic comments regarding the commandeering of his furniture for her hedonistic napping session. Not caring to move much himself, given his wrapped shoulder and still pulling scabs on his neck, he eventually picked up the folder, glancing through the final report on zombies or reanimated human-like entities before tossing it back to the floor.

He really didn’t give a rat’s fuzzy butt about the case, preferring not to remember it as his apartment fell to the early winter darkness. He wasn’t a fan of fire; he wasn’t a fan of cold; he wasn’t a fan of conspiring assholes and now he knew he definitely wasn’t a fan of reani- … zombies … whatever the hell they were. He mostly just wanted to forget them and enjoy some TV and a nap.

But Scully was in his TV watching spot, face squished into the cushion where he usually sat, the compressed foam perfectly indented to his rear after countless years and which was now cradling his soon-to-be drooling partner, her arm hanging to the floor, hand bent at the wrist, fingerprints pressed to woven striped rug.

And she was fairly cute doing it.

Settling back in the office chair he currently occupied and would occupy for the foreseeable future, he shifted his good arm up, resting his head against his hand, deciding that since he didn’t have a decent angle for the TV now, he’d just watch her.

Turned out to be the best entertainment of the night.

“Mul … ler?”

That startled him a little. She’d been snoring not half a second earlier and he never expected her to say anything.

“Yeah?”

“Muller?”

“Yes, Scully?”

Still not answering, she broke into a grin, her face shifting enough so he could just make out her mouth in full, “Muller.”

By now, his chuckle had emerged, head tilting further to the side to see her better, “Scully.”

Pulling her arm up, she languidly twisted onto her side, back against the back, knees sliding over each other until she settled again, left arm draped over belly, breasts pushed together in tantalizing, nearly spilling out cleavage.

He could see her knees as well.

Shit.

He had a thing for her knees. He’d been watching them peak out from underneath skirts for what felt like decades now and he had been fantasizing about his hand on one of them for just as long. Oddly, he had pictured her on her knees doing … things … to him for nearly as long but those fantasies were nowhere near as frequent as the ones where he simply sat beside her, warm palm cupped over her rounded knee, the beautiful 90-degree joint that carried her beside him everywhere and anywhere without fault and without fail.

He was utterly beguiled and bewildered at the sight of her knees. He’d shake his head to bring himself back to a sense of manly reality but, really, why.

Granted, the cleavage did fight for his attention, don’t get him wrong but tonight, he took his voyeuristic time, enjoying his blue-glowing Scully in all her napping glory, knees out for the world to see.

He chuckled again at the realizing that he was so far under her spell, it was shocking he could still function at all in society.

Then again, his society for the time being, consisted of Scully and zombies.

He gave himself five more minutes before forcing himself to stand, go to the kitchen, silently find some dinner, forget his partner on the couch in order to take a deep breath, sort his head back to the here and now.

“Muller?”

Like a snapping rubber band, he was back at her side before he knew his feet were moving, “Scully?”

This time, though, her eyes were open, staring up at him, confused and squinty, “am I hungry?”

“I … I don’t know.” Giving her a soft smile, “I was just making myself some food. You got here about an hour ago so you probably are hungry. It’s after 7.”

Time stamp sinking in, “hey, we’re missing ‘Wheel of Fortune’.”

God, he really should just propose now and get it over with, “want to find the channel and I’ll heat up whatever the hell isn’t nasty in my fridge?”

Hand already digging in the cushions for the remote, “deal.”

Sooner than later, they were buried deep in the couch, Mulder’s feet on the coffee table, Scully’s tucked underneath her, knee touching his thigh and blanket haphazardly thrown over them, empty plates near his toes. As they waited for the final ‘Jeopardy’ clue, Mulder debated whether it was time.

Scully chose action over debate.

Reaching towards him, she quietly gripped his pinkie finger and slowly dragged his hand from his leg to hers, stopping once her knee rounded out his palm.

In answer, he slid a little further down in the cushions, elbow resting on her upper thigh and fingers curved more securely around the sacred bones.

Mulder left it there through the last question, through two episodes of something he didn’t have the capacity to pay attention to because Scully was real and beside him, only one layer of blanket between skin on skin. Then, around nine, he gathered boldness from points unknown and deftly moved from above blanket to below, back to knee, heat on heat, watching her out the corner of his eye and relaxing when he saw the smallest of smiles curve her lip.

He was golden tonight.

And he sure as hell wasn’t going to push it.

Soon, cliched date night situations aside, her head landed on his shoulder, the credit music of ‘West Wing’ filling the room as she quietly asked, “would you mind if I stayed here tonight?”

“Of course not. Tired?”

“Yeah … but …” he could hear the hesitation beating the space between them, “mostly I … I’m comfortable and don’t want to go home right now.”

Squeezing her leg, he moved to stand, “let me go find you something to sleep in.”

She let him stand, missing him instantly and watched him trek away, sling band across his back, gait stilting slightly because a jostling walk sent pains through his unhealed bones. Following seconds later, she stood in his bedroom doorway, blanket over her shoulders, “anything is fine.”

Turning, “why’d you get up? You said you were comfortable on the couch?”

“No, I said I was comfortable.” Stepping closer, her eyes twinkled and sparked, “I’m comfortable with you and with your hand on me and being in this apartment and I don’t want to go home. There’s a difference between that and not wanting to get up from the couch to follow you.”

After keeping his grin to mere epic proportions, he gathered a t-shirt and some sweatpants, handing them to her after he moved to stand in front, “here you go and does that mean you’re not ready to go to sleep yet? Should we go see what else we can find to watch?”

Nodding, “go start looking while I change.” Quick like bunny, she came back into the living room and Mulder lost his powers of speech. Looking from her bare knees and the bottom of the shirt he gave her, which fell an inch above the aforementioned knees, to her face, she laughed as she settled back beside him, blanket once again over them, his hand moving under the blanket and back to its spot with little hesitation, “I’ll put the pants on before I go to sleep.”

&&&&&&&&&&

The next morning, with the blinds closed and the sunlight non-existent behind layers of gray cloud, she didn’t wake up until after eight and that was only because an especially exuberant burble from the fish tank invading her senses. Ignoring the clock, she puttered around the place while she made tea and found a box of semi-expired PopTarts, settling on the couch once again to have her breakfast before she decided to give any kind of thought to work. Mulder ventured forth halfway through her second cup, hair askew and shirt twisted under his immobilizer. Attempting and failing to straighten himself out, he dropped beside her, “when did you wake up and do you know you’re late for work?”

Doing her best not to spew forth a torrent of crumbs when she answered him, “woke up 20 minutes ago and not too sure I care about work today. How are you?”

Taking the bite of PopTart she offered him, he chewed thoughtfully, “better because you’re here.”

“I meant your shoulder but thank you.”

“You make everything better, shoulder included.”

Moving the blanket to cover his legs as well, mirroring the night before, she watched him put his hand back under the blanket, his eyebrows raising when he ran into skin instead of flannel, “still no pants, young lady?”

“Nope.”

“You should play hooky with me and not wear any pants at all.”

Pretending to debate, she tucked the blanket in closer under her legs and wiggled against him, “you should find me some cartoons. Flintstones if possible … or Scooby-Doo.”

With a non-chalant and non-presumptuous kiss to the top of her head, “I love you and your cartoony, pantsless ways.”

“I love you and your expired PopTart owning ways.”

Finding the Flintstones on some backend cable channel, “today is going to be a good day.”

Already planning a nap, probably in Mulder’s bed and probably not alone, “a very good day.”

#semi-expired poptarts #msr #xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #post-ep Millennium #I have absolutely no idea if i spelled millennium correctly

[sundance201]

So oddly enough, when shows piss me off, it actually fuels my creative fire. It happened with NCIS too. Here’s a sort of angsty, post-ep Sherlolly fic that I wrote in a fit of rage and sadness last night - the Marylock fics are coming as well. <3

SPOILERS FOR THE SIX THATCHERS BELOW THE CUT

She wished that she could say she was surprised when she walked into her flat and saw the all too familiar outline of a man sitting on her couch. But she couldn’t. She flipped on the lights and hung up her coat and purse. “Tea?” she asked tiredly.

Sherlock shook his head, staying silent.

She moved into the kitchen, putting the kettle on and pulling out her favorite herbal tea. Glancing out to her sitting room, she eyed Sherlock who was doing a brilliant impression of a statue on her couch. He hadn’t even taken off his coat. She sighed heavily.

A few minutes later, she sat next to him on the couch, angling her body towards him. “Sherlock,” she whispered, leaning forward and gently touching his forearm. He startled and turned his head towards her, his eyes dull. “Sherlock, I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head again. “It’s-“ his voice was hoarse from disuse and he cleared it before trying again. “It’s not your fault.”

“John…I couldn’t disrespect his wishes. Rosie’s his daughter. I had to…”

He placed his hand on top of hers and she stopped talking immediately. “I understand, Molly. I do. I don’t blame you. I don’t blame John for that matter.” Molly nodded, taking a sip from her mug and then setting it down on her coffee table. Her legs curled up beneath her on the couch, making herself as small as she felt. “How is she? How is Rosie?”

Molly gave a sad smile. “She’s…fine. I think…I don’t want to sound like a delusional godmother but…I think she knows something is wrong. She knows that Mummy isn’t there. She misses her.” The last bit was choked out, nearly a sob.

“We all do,” Sherlock whispered.

“What’re we going to do? John is barely functioning – they don’t have any family. I never imagined…I knew when I said I’d be godmother that this could happen but…it’s like it’s a nightmare, Sherlock. I just want to wake up. I want to be able to pop ‘round and see Mary and chat with her and play with Rosie.” She rested her head on Sherlock’s shoulder, sniffling and letting her tears fall and soak into the material of his Belstaff.

Much to her surprise, instead of staying still or even pushing her away, Sherlock drew her closer and she felt his lips press against the top of her head. “I know,” he whispered against her hair. “I feel the same way. Molly, I don’t know what to do.”

“No one does, Sherlock. No one can imagine what it’ll be like…how we’ll react.” She curled closer to him, her fingers gripping the lapel of his coat. “You can’t plan for this sort of thing. No sort of Mind Palace can help you with this,” she said, attempting to smile at him, but she knew it was more of a grimace than anything else.

He nodded solemnly and they sat in silence, curled around one another for quite some time. Molly had completely forgotten about her tea, instead taking comfort in the warmth of Sherlock’s embrace.

“Are you staying the night?” she finally asked quietly. “I have to work tomorrow.”

He shifted slightly. “If it’s not an inconvenience.” She shook her head and unfolded herself, standing and holding out a hand to him, which he quickly took.

They readied for bed in silence, taking turns in the en suite and finally slipping underneath the covers. Molly reached over and turned out the lamp, sighing and closing her eyes as the room was plunged into darkness. Much to her surprise, just a few seconds later, she felt Sherlock’s arm wrap around her waist, his hand pushing against her stomach and pulling her back against him. “I couldn’t bear to be alone tonight,” he murmured against her ear.

She nodded, interlacing her fingers with Sherlock’s on her stomach. His breath was hot against her skin. “I need you close.”

A small smile graced her lips. It was the first real smile she’d felt since Mary had died. “I’m not going anywhere, Sherlock.” This declaration only seemed to increase his anxiety though, as his grip on her tightened, bringing her even closer to him.

She turned to face him. Her eyes were starting to adjust in the darkness of her room and she could just barely make out his expressive face. She laid her palm against his cheek. “Just control what you can, Sherlock. You’re not God. Take one moment at a time.”

He didn’t seem convinced. “My dad always used to say that everything looked better after a good night’s rest,” she whispered.

“I don’t think it applies to this situation.”

“But it can’t hurt.” She leaned forward ever so slightly, brushing the gentlest of kisses against his lips. “Go to sleep, Sherlock. I’ll be here in the morning. We’ll face the day together.”

She felt him relax. He sighed, shifting so that he was lying on his back. He then wrapped an arm around Molly’s shoulder, drawing her against his side. She went willingly and rested her head on his t-shirt clad chest. Her arm wrapped around his waist, keeping him grounded.

“Good night, Molly.”

“Good night, Sherlock.”

#sherlolly #sherlock x molly #fanfic #bbc sherlock #sherlock series 4 #post ep angst #the six thatchers #fuck everything