#I think there were technically like six or seven fics of them before I got there?? but they weren’t about their character really so idk

[steviewashere]

Dream Come True

Rating: General CW: Minor internalized ableism on Steve's end Tags: Established Relationship, Married Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Future Fic, Adopting a Child, Parenthood, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Let Them Live a Quiet Life God Damn It, Mild Hurt/Comfort

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is about healing each other's wounds."

💕—————💕

They haven’t discussed children since the second month they were together. Was that probably a little too early in their relationship? Probably—Eddie will be brave enough to admit that right now. But, considering where they’re at now: Steve is forty-seven and Eddie’s forty-eight, their wedding bands are simple and gold (something easily spotted amongst the silver ones that Eddie still wears), the house they took a loan out for is painted yellow with white shutters installed (well, they paid Dustin and Will to do it. They were happy to help), they live in Massachusetts away from public eye, and though they don’t have a dog—not yet, the service dog process has been a long and weary one on Steve’s end—they have their little brown tabby cat. They’ve got a well furnished home. And years of love between them.

Nearly twenty-eight years in total. Nineteen years wedded. Six years of that are legally recognized. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is they stopped talking about the prospect of having kids.

Eddie’s initial answer at the beginning was, “Maybe. I think it would be neat. But, I’m gay, Steve. That isn’t really a possibility.” He chuckled a little bit. “I meant like adopting, but in a technical sense—Considering what’s in my pants, the possibility is still out the window.”

Steve’s was changed from what he told Nancy in that Winnebago. “I still want children. Or, just one. I want a quiet life. Even if you make it as some big rock star, I want a quiet private life.”

It was doable. What Steve had whispered on Eddie’s shoulder, that was doable. The question for years though was, When does he want that? And also, When will he leave to pursue that?

The answer was clear. Steve was never going to pursue that. That, sure, they’d have the quiet life. But never have children. And Eddie saw him wilt a little further and further. When they passed by the playground at the park. The daycare up the street from their home. After the seizure diagnosis, Steve stopped looking and thinking about it all together. It hurt Eddie’s heart.

He may have got the quiet life. And Eddie may have lived out his simple dream. He’d been a rockstar for a little bit in the late nineties and early two-thousands, retiring before they got married. But…Steve hasn’t lived his dream. Eddie hates that he thinks it’s being held back from him. Eddie’s determined to heal that hurt inside him.

——— Steve comes home from his Wednesday teaching shift around four in the evening. Eddie’s already on the couch, combing Poncho’s fur, watching the local news. He’s got a very important print out laid neatly on the coffee table. He hears Steve set down his briefcase on the dining table, his footsteps retreating to their kitchen to rinse out his thermos, coming back to the front door and placing his loafers on the shoe rack, and he hangs up his coat. Then, he enters the living room, hands scrambling to undo his tie, body leaning over the arm of the couch to press a kiss against Eddie’s mouth.

But then he pulls away, turning his whole body to watch the news. And that’s when he spots it. The flyer. He shuffles over on his mismatched socked feet, hands falling away from the collar of his dress shirt. He swipes up the paper. Behind his glasses, he squints.

It’s advertisement for the adoption agency some forty minutes out. Eddie hopes, by everything, that this will heal the pain in his own chest, and the emotional line of thinking in Steve’s brain. Hopes with everything that his body can physically give.

“What’s this about?” Steve asks. His voice is neutral. Almost…dare Eddie say, steely. Okay, maybe he made the wrong move. “We haven’t even—“

“I know,” Eddie immediately says. “I know we haven’t talked about it. But, sweetheart, just listen to me, alright?” At Steve’s confused and hesitant nod, Eddie tries to arrange his words. “This is something you’ve been wanting since forever ago. And I know that I haven’t really voiced my wants on it. But I also thought that it would never happen.

“That it would never be something people like me—“ He raises his eyebrows and points to the keyring attached to Steve’s belt loop. The short rainbow garland that sits discreetly among his keys. “—Would ever get the chance to do. But I—Steve, god, I want it so bad. I want to be able to be a dad and chase around a kiddo of our own while you’re busy at work. I want to see one off for school for their first day and cry like I’ll never see them again. Wanna make them a lunch they can bring to school, the same time that I make your lunch for your school. I want to watch them grow up with your goofy dancing skills and our combined love for music. And I—I want to be a better parent that I could’ve ever imagined.

“I want it with you,” Eddie breathes. “I want all of that with you. And I know that you still want it. Your forlorn looks at couples with babies. Every time you see Lucas and Max and their spitfire teenager, your eyes get this brightness to them that I—I have to be honest, I don’t think I’ve seen you happy like that since we got married.” He swallows at some of the implications there. And it’s not meant to be accusatory, but gosh does Eddie notice. The way his sunflower wilts. “This is just something for you to think about, okay? I know my decision on it. But think about it.”

Steve’s grip on the paper trembles. And his eyes are searing Eddie in a way that melts him. Blazing with adoration and love. “You want that?” He shakily asks. “You want to raise a kid with me?”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, baby. I really, really, really do.”

“Even though…Even though I have seizures that could scare them shitless? And I get so angry some days that all I can do is hide in our bedroom and cry? And I—You want that with somebody like me?” He hesitates to ask again. Eddie doesn’t answer, but his arms open in comfort and his eyes soften with earnest. Steve doesn’t move from his spot, though. He looks back at the paper. “What’s the—Our first step?”

“We apply. And they determine if we’re worthy and that it’ll be safe,” Eddie answers. “If they see us fit, they’ll look at our house and things like that. We’ll come back to that later on. If that’s something you still want.”

“Okay,” Steve states with fervor. “Let’s do this.”

——— After a tedious process, Eddie realizes how correct he was.

It’s a Saturday. The curtains are open. Dinner is simmering on the stovetop. And Eddie stirs the soup while he listens in on Steve’s activity in the living room.

“There you go, sweetheart,” Steve is cooing. “Good job, Carmen. Look at you.” He’s been supervising her tummy time everyday he’s able to. Loves being able to lay on his back on the floor, eyes watching their daughter, his fingers combing through her hair as she uses her wide brown eyes to wonder about the world around her.

Eddie bites back a smile.

“That’s Poncho,” Steve is saying. He’s introducing them like they’re all acquaintances around a water cooler. Eddie, maybe, snickers a little bit behind his hand. “He’s gonna be your buddy. He likes the space between his shoulder blades scratched. Just like you, huh?” And hears the moment that Steve dully traces his fingernails on Carmen’s back. She gurgles a little excited babbling. “That feels good, doesn’t it?” Steve murmurs. “Daddy likes that, too.” He’s talking about himself. Because he practically fought tooth and nail for that title. Eddie wouldn’t have it any other way.

From the kitchen archway, Eddie surveys the display on the living room floor. And Steve’s on his back in his pajamas. Glasses smooshed awkwardly up his face as his cheek is pressed against the carpet, eyes gone soft and glistening while Carmen is on her belly. Her hands are sprawled in front of her, squeezing at the soft toys they had gotten. He’s brushing his fingers through her short, curly wisps of brown hair. Then, his hand travels back down to massage and scratch at her back again. She’s wearing a pink striped onesie and a pair of white socks on her little feet.

He clears his throat to make himself known. Steve looks up at him, softly smiling. “I reckon things are going good in here?” Steve only nods, too enamored with petting at Carmen’s back. Eddie finally smiles at him. “Good,” he whispers. He leans his weight on the doorway. A dish rag thrown over his shoulder, arms crossed low over his belly, hair thrown up in a loose bun on his head. Domestic life has really begun to suit him, if he’s honest. He finds himself at ease about it now.

As he turns back to the kitchen, to serve up their bowls of soup, Steve calls his name. He immediately turns back around. Greeted with his husband’s soft face, his deepened smile lines, his messy hair spread on the carpet. He’s more youthful than ever, fatherhood has changed him for the better, at least Eddie thinks so. He hums to see what Steve needs, because by god, he’ll do anything for him.

“Thank you,” Steve whispers.

“For what?”

“Making my hurt go away,” Steve says. But Eddie’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. And Steve clarifies, “Allowing me to accomplish my final dream. I’m really happy that it’s with you.”

Eddie crosses into the living room, crouching down to kiss Steve’s forehead, pecking Carmen’s soft head, too. He combs his own fingers through Steve’s hair. Smiling at the way he keens. “You made me believe that I could be a good dad,” he admits. “I can’t wait to do this right.”

Steve brings a hand to Eddie’s cheek. His index finger softly tracing down the side of his face. “Love you,” he murmurs.

Turning his face, Eddie kisses the tip of Steve’s finger. “Love you, too,” Eddie easily says in return.

Sure, he got to be a rockstar, but he thinks that this life—Steve soft and middle aged and smiling at him, petting down their daughter’s back, cooing soft as if he’s not almost fifty—is much better than anything he could’ve ever dreamed. Maybe filling the hole in Steve’s soul, the remedy that their daughter brings—Maybe that heals something for Eddie, too.

💕—————💕

#stranger things #steddie #fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #day 16 #domestic fluff #domestic steddie #fluff

[ilguna]

Hello, congratulations on 2k followers, you deserve everyone for the writing you create. For the celebration can I request number 25 and 60 from prompt list one and number 6 from prompt list 2 for a Johanna Mason x reader fic. Thank you.

☼ worried (Johanna Mason) ☼

warnings; swearing, death mention

wc; 1.4k

prompt; 25. "I can't smile at you, I'm mad." and 60. "Does this make sense to you?" and 6. "KIss me and/or shut up."

–

When you got drawn for the Quarter Quell in District Five, you thought that the pain couldn’t get any worse. You have to go back inside of the arena, you have to fight the people you’ve known for years, and you would probably die trying to win this time, but that’s as far as it would go.

What you didn’t take into consideration was the fact that there were going to be a couple people you wish didn’t get reaped. Whether that be good people that you’re friends with, like Finnick and Cecelia, or the assholes that could win the games with their hands tied behind their backs, Gloss and Enobaria.

You completely forgot that the girl that matters the most to you, the one that you’d kill everyone for, including yourself if that meant that she would stay alive, was now vulnerable too. You didn’t think that Johanna would also end up in this position, you thought that she’d somehow find a way to get out of this.

Well, if it were that easy, then you would’ve squirmed out of it, too.

You’ve already dedicated a year and a half of your life to her, and you thought that you’d continue past that. Even if that meant seeing her once a year in the Capitol, you were going to find a way to stay with her and keep her safe.

The Capitol does a lot to the people who survive it, but Johanna’s one of the victor’s that have suffered the most. She deserves better than this, stuck in an endless loop of winning and then losing right after. If it were possible, you would’ve taken her place in District Seven if you lived there, instead. Let some other poor girl victor from Five be the victim, if that meant Johanna would be safe.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way. You get thrown a different curveball that you have to dodge or hit perfectly, and it keeps going like that. That’s why you’re stuck in an alliance that you were convinced to join by Johanna. Even though you’re currently listening to her pessimistic attitude on how the both of you are going to die here while guarding two geniuses. She’s afraid that the alliance is going to fail.

You can’t blame her. There’s five of you in this group alone, and Johanna seems to think she saw Finnick and Mags with Katniss and Peeta, another portion of the alliance. And beside you nine, there’s another six that’s supposed to join you. Fifteen members of this alliance, more than half the tributes in this arena.

The games started about two hours ago, since surviving the bloodbath, you’ve managed to make it pretty deep in the jungle. It’s only a matter of time before the cannons start blasting, with each passing minute, the curiosity on how many have died, only grows. A good portion of tributes ran straight into the cornucopia, and with how horrifying the career pack this year, no one’s making it out of there alive.

Actually, you can, but it’s not easy. Beetee was a goddamn moron and went straight into the cornucopia after figuring out the whole floatation belt device. Johanna had to run in after him, while you, Blight and Wiress hid in the jungle, watching and waiting for them to make it out alive.

Beetee got cut up in the process of grabbing a spool of gold wire. He’s got it clutched in his hands right now, he won’t let anyone beside Wiress touch it. Something about him worried that you’ll accidentally fuck up the wiring—you stopped listening a while ago because Johanna was speaking over him. You can’t keep track of both conversations at once, Beetee’s too technical and Johanna gets aggressive when she thinks you’re not listening.

Johanna’s not exactly thrilled that she, you and Blight were told to keep track of Wiress and Beetee and keep them alive long enough to meet up with the second half of the alliance. You were also told that if you find any other stray alliance members on the way, then you’re sorta required to bring them along and help keep them safe.

She’s a ticking time bomb. Johanna’s sweating so badly that she’s growing more irritated by the second. With Beetee continuously talking, and Wiress letting him finish her sentences, there’s going to be a meltdown. She doesn’t even like them in the first place. She just can’t be around Katniss because she’s known for starting fights, then again, Finnick does tease too much. He knows when to shut it down, though.

The only two relatively sane people right now are you and Blight. If you’re being honest, you think that you’re beginning to lose it, too. Especially since Johanna’s made one giant circle with her rambling and she’s about to do it again.

“I can’t believe we were tasked with this.” She complains for the fifth time, swinging the ax in her hand. You can see the sweat running down the side of her face. “If this group grows any bigger, there might as well be a giant target on our backs. There’s already five of us, could you imagine when we find Finnick?”

“That’d make nine.” You murmur, picking at your nails to keep yourself distracted.

“Almost half of the arena. And we’re still missing others.”

You hardly doubt that the group is going to make it to its final number. Woof is too old to help survive here, Mags is already bordering but since she’s got Finnick, she’s good for now. Cecelia was in the bloodbath when you saw her last. As for the morphlings, they’ve probably blended themselves into a tree by now and are going to starve themselves until the end.

It’s like finding a needle in a haystack with how thick this jungle is. If you were to wander off, you wouldn’t see them in the trees, you’d get yourself turned around and lost for good. For all you know, Finnick and them are wandering in the same direction you are, and you’ll be cursed to follow them, but never find. How are you expected to find the other few missing members of the alliance?

“Can you imagine it?” Johanna asks, “A group that big, the careers would really find us then. And then what? We’ll die holding hands?”

“If you’re offering, I’d love to.” You joke, Johanna gives you this look, unamused. You raise your eyebrows, “I’m sorry, are you telling me that you wouldn’t save me if we were attacked?”

“No.” She deadpans, starting up again, “We’d be able to take the pack, though. I’m sure we’d lose only a few people in the process. Gloss will be able to have another stab at Volts, or maybe they’ll attack during the night, killing half of us before we wake up. And then we’ll be too delirious to actually protect ourselves.

Your silence must make her uncomfortable, “Does this make sense to you?”

“It actually sounds like you’re worriedly rambling.” Blight mutters, clearly tired of the conversation that Johanna’s brought you into three times already, “We might not die, you know.”

“Oh, so you think the Gamemakers are just going to let us out?”

“Maybe if you ask nicely.” You tell her.

“How about you start first?” She asks you, “Since you’re the one that came up with it.”

“Gamemakers,” You start, giving her a side-eye, “Please make a rock fall on Johanna’s head so she’ll pass out and be quiet.” Johanna punches you in the arm, turning away from you. You let out a laugh, “That’s payback for saying you wouldn’t save me.”

“Whatever.” She says.

You don’t speak to her for a few moments, waiting for her to return to what she was saying. When she doesn’t you mimic her by crossing your arms and pouting, “Come on, it was funny.”

“Don’t mock me.”

You stop walking, waiting for her to finally look at you. She doesn’t realize at first, but when she reaches over to shove you, you’re not there. She then turns, seeing you with your arms crossed, still pouting.

The smile hints at the corners of her mouth but she fixes it, “I can’t smile at you, I’m mad.”

“Are you trying to remind yourself?” You snort, beginning to walk again.

“You know what, you won’t be laughing when the careers—”

You grab her arm, yanking her to you while the others pass you, “Kiss me and shut up." You pull her closer, hovering over her lips, "I'm going to make sure you're alright."

--

this was part of my 2k celebration!

join the party -> HERE.

#ilguna #johanna mason #johanna mason imagine #johanna mason x reader #johanna mason fanfic #johanna mason oneshot #thg #the hunger games #angst #2k celebration #anon #ask

[ezrisdax-archive]

fic ideas I had for things but never finished or started properly (also a lot of these I came up with with other people):

b7

fake dating au

accidentally got married au

 mutual pining whoops we're sleeping together anyway

ace attorney au

 seven as the one in shattered instead of chakotay au with maquis!b'elanna in janeways spot

future fic from naomi point of view about her gay aunts

dragon age au with warden!b'elanna and morrigan!seven

kes stays and is sick of them flirting and locks them in a closet au

 the coffee shop au I never finished which became a whole world anyway

 help desk support b'elanna dealing with ext 709 on the phone every day

hades game au

stuck on the holodeck and have to act the parts out to get out

utena au

xena au

troisha

expanding on the au I had where alternate reality tasha ended up in prime timeline instead of going to the past

xena au

roommates at starfleet au which I think I may have also done? so like...a different better one

 tasha didn’t die but ended up in some limbo form and deanna keeps seeing her as a ghost

kiradax (either dax)

reverse au with ezri as the dax host before jadzia and jadzia in season seven

mass effect au with asari!jadzia and human!kira

dragon age au with hawke!jadzia and mage!kira

au where kira stays on ds9 at the end of season six and is able to get to jadzia in time to save her but jadzia has to leave for trill for healing for a while and they write each other

chlodine

time loop au where they're looking for atlantis and whoops its got a funky artifact that has nadine looping

au where they meet much much sooner

office au where nadine is night security and chloe works late and keeps forgetting her badge and breaking in

wilenko

the au where one of them gets the beacon instead of shep

winter soldier cerberus au where they show up instead of sheps clone in ME3 or take kai lengs place in ME3

tim hortons vs starbucks au in niagra falls listen I'm canadian

stargate au

grissom academy instructor kaidan but ash on the normandy still

 pacific rim au

star wars au with clone soldier ash and jedi kaidan

vetryder

never went to andromeda au and ryders dig site needs supplies and she finds vetra

the typical au where sara isn't the pathfinder but calls dibs when she wakes up and meets vetra anyway

were dating pre andromeda but vetra thought ryder died when the hyperion didn't show up

misc star trek

seven/ezri where seven ends up on ds9 by the borg attacking the defiant and them getting seven from it look it wasn't fully fleshed out

divided we fall rewrite (ezri/lenara)

on an away mission together leading to fake dating (joann/keyla)

the kes stays on voyager, tom leaves au with kes, harry, b’elanna, and seven shenanigans (gen)

ezri and harry bffs serving on captain geordi's ship (gen)

misc

 ichiban time loop au (yakuza, gen)

au where korra doesn't fully get her memory back in season two but thinks her and asami are dating (lok, korrasami)

seong-hui keeps texting saeko and this leads to a relationship (yakuza, seong-hui/saeko)

tifa finds aerith at shinra hq where she’s been locked up for a while (ffvii, aerith/tifa)

tifa dead all along based on the latest trailer and technically a ghost but aerith drags her back to living anyway (ffvii, aerith/tifa)

rei begs susato to dress up again to get out of dating other guys (ace attorney, susahao)

franmaya star trek au with romulan/vulcan fran and trill maya (ace attorney, franmaya)

#please talk to me about any of these they've been on my mind now #I just figured it was more fun to get them down as I got stuck on most of them for writing #uhhh what's a good tag for this #beej's aus

[philtstone]

45, Sam Wilson

#45 -- shining like fireworks lol this is way longer than it was supposed to be and also was crafted around the #25 prompt, because I can't read. but I made it work. zainab i know youve already written something like this but i wanted to try my hand at it too! my homage to the epistolatory fic...

"You made me a scrapbook for my birthday?"

Okay.

Maybe he should rewind.

Sam won't lie and say it hasn't been a rough few months. So technically, the weight of the world doesn't need to be on his shoulders. He keeps thinking he oughta take a page out of that Spider-kid's book, and just be a friendly neighborhood Cap, or something. It's just between intercontinental warhead measuring competitions (something he can say around his nephews without Sarah raising both eyebrows), dickhead suits (come on, Sarah), flying green men, and regular old food shortages in his own damn home state ... well, it's hard not to feel it all, when you care.

He used to call Bucky and bitch about things, before. Or rather -- he'd call Bucky, and Bucky would start bitching about things, which gave Sam the opening to also start bitching about things. Funny how that worked out. But they weren't even living together then. They were miles apart! Since he and Bucky got that stupid bachelor pad apartment six months ago, they've barely spent more than three consecutive minutes in each others' presence. They've both been out of the apartment for such mutually overlapping long stretches of time that every time Sam checks the fridge, the brand new carton of milk he got on the last grocery run has gone lumpy. The worst of it is, he hasn't had any chance to talk to Bucky about it properly, and there's a weird, tireder-than-usual Sam part of his brain that worries maybe this isn't the best solution to Bucky's isolation issues. Wasn't that part of the reason they decided to move in together, anyway? A solution to loneliness? Humans weren't made to live all alone, grown assed men or not, Sam thinks.

All of this is making Sam in more of a bad mood than he needs to be, given that it's his birthday.

It is his fortieth birthday, so maybe that, too, is contributing.

By rights, he should be turning forty five. That part though, Sam refuses to think about at all.

"Yeah, yeah, complain about how old you are," Bucky says, leaned too far back in his own porch chair, long legs stretched all the way out against the rail, and nursing the twin of Sam's own cool beer. "Is it 'cause you need reading glasses now?"

"Bucky," Sam grits out, because he's not sure how to communicate, I am stupidly glad you, one of my dearest friends some-fucking-how, are here, I've missed you, I really didn't expect I would this much, but also I am five seconds away from drop kicking you into a small body of water, so help me God, in a non embarrassing, well-adjusted kinda way.

"Aw, it is," says the most annoying man alive, who at one hundred and seven has the general face and physique of a particularly genetically-blessed thirty-eight year old. The fact that technically, if you do the in-and-out-of-cryo math, Bucky clocks out at two years younger than Sam is possibly the single worst fact in the universe, right now.

"Both of you shut up and let Sam finish opening his presents," says a third voice, and Sam, miffed, turns to glare at his sister, while Bucky, the bastard, is grinning like a set of cheap fireworks.

Sarah had promised that they won't do nothing big til tomorrow, and that this afternoon was just for family. Sam should've expected that meant four neighbors and three of their childhood family friends and two cousins, also, but by four pm, most people have filed out and lunch is a demolished mess of scraped-clean plates and almost empty pots on the big fold out table on the backyard porch. He's already opened AJ and Cass's humble contribution: a baseball mitt, which Uncle Sam can use to teach them baseball, much to Bucky's endless amusement ("Didn't you say baseball was an old people sport? You played baseball in school, Samuel? When you were even younger?" Yeah, he's real close to Bucky-cide, today). He knows Sarah's got him an old record player of their dad's upstairs, which he'd been planning to get fixed up all those many years ago, before their lives were torn apart; the fact that it has survived, and they have survived, makes Sam feel a certain kind of way. What Sam wasn't expecting was the lumpy, large, rectangular package that emerges from under the porch table, wrapped in brown paper and presented to him by his nephews.

"And that one's from B," Sarah says. Sam's too busy staring at it incredulously to clock the amused twinkle in his sister's eye.

"You got me a birthday present? Forreal?" Sam doesn't know if he wants to laugh or be suspicious or tear up like an idiot. Jesus, it's not like he's Bucky, getting all misty at basic kind gestures. Bucky shrugs and takes a drag from his beer.

"What, you can get me stuff, but I'm banned?"

"You're not banned, oh my God. I'm just surprised."

"I get people presents!"

"I know you do!"

"So, it's your birthday, I got you a present."

"What is it?"

"Now he's making it weird!" Bucky says, helplessly, to Sarah. AJ and Cass have started giggling.

So Sam rips off the wrapping paper, muttering to himself.

Which brings him back to an immutable, inescapable fact.

Bucky Barnes made him a scrapbook for his birthday.

"It's not a scrapbook."

"It's literally a scrapbook. Holy shit, are those stickers from Joanne's?"

"Hobby Lobby," offers AJ solemnly.

"Look, okay, it was Sarah's idea! Just read the fuckin' -- I mean, uh --"

At this point, the boys' giggles are threatening to turn medical. Sarah mouths nope, all him, from behind Bucky's chair, while Sam gapes helplessly at the shockingly neat mess of .... post it notes?

No. No way.

"You put all the annoying sticky notes you left me about the fucking soured milk in a scrapbook?"

"Oh, guys, come on!" Sarah throws her hands up in the air. "That's two in half a minute! You want these boys to grow up cursin'?"

"Half of them are yours!" Bucky points. "Which, by the way, were also annoying!" He's not quite embarrassed, but there's an airy, funny kind of laugh bubbling up behind his words at the ridiculousness of it all. Sam's feeling it too. He reaches into his pocket and takes out his reading glasses.

Bucky cracks; he chokes on his laughter, stuffing it roughly behind one metal fist; AJ has plastered himself against Sam's side and Cass is literally slumped, hiccupping, on the floor. Even Sarah's having a hard time fighting it.

Primly, Sam begins reading at a random place in the middle of the book; the note is written on an overlarge, bright blue POST-IT.

SAM. WON'T BE BACK TIL THURSDAY. PICKED UP THAT WEIRD MILK YOU LIKE FOR YOU. -JBB

Bucky, just got in. Leaving again tomorrow 0600. Hope Ross isn't being too much of a pain in the ass. Lactose free milk is a sexy modern invention, NOT weird. Its kind of gone bad tho. Did you not drink any of it???

Also, u dont have to sign post its. - Sam

I WASNT GONNA DRINK YOUR MILK. ITS YOURS. THANKS FOR TAKING OUT THE LEFTOVER TRASH, HAD TO RUN. GOT YOU MORE MILK FOR WHEN YOU GET BACK. YOU WILL DO GREAT. RIP STR MALONE A NEW ONE - JBB

I know who you are! Milks bad again. Jesus, i need a vacation. I didn't rip any senators new ones

Wanted to, tho. You keep switching burner phones so i cant text you this shit

LEAVE NOTES. THEY STICK TO THE FRIDGE NICE - JBB

Oh my God, you did not get a cat while I was gone

SHE CAN LIVE IN MY ROOM. GOT YOU MORE MILK AS A BRIBE :-)

She tore up ALL THE CURTAINS. I LIKED THOSE CURTAINS. And do your own laundry instead of getting me milk!

I DO LAUNDRY! IVE DONE YOURS THREE TIMES IN A ROW.

FUCK. MILKS GONE BAD.

You tried to drink it? What happened to its Sams milk?

Your cat peed in my shoe by the way!

IT WAS GOING BAD!!!!! -JBB

It's always goin bad!! - STW

Hey B, heard about the op from Rhodey. Im in Delacroix tmrw, come down if you can. Take care of yourself, man.

At this point, Sam stops reading. That was a couple days ago. He looks up again, pulls his glasses off. As irritable as he was earlier, there is relief in seeing Bucky perfectly in-tact, effortlessly whole. Maybe a little tired around the eyes, but Sam thinks that's maybe a detail about him that's never really gonna go away at this point. He'd been worried, yeah. Annoyed, that they hadn't talked properly before parting ways. Missing his friend and pissed off about the milk. What was the point of living with a person if you never fucking interacted, and then they got blown up?

"I can't believe you kept all of this shit," Sam manages.

Rubbing at one eye, Bucky shrugs, looks down, then up, like he's not actually embarrassed about it at all. He says, "I had to prove to my therapist I was living successfully with a roommate somehow."

Sam snorts. After a beat, Bucky adds, "Hadn't had a roommate in years. It would've been weird to throw them out."

Yeah, Sam thinks. Yeah.

"Hey, man," Sam says, while Sarah (still chuckling), begins cleaning up the plates on the table with Cass's help. "I missed you too." Bucky smiles -- "You better tell me where you found that mangy stray cat, though."

At which point Bucky's mouth drops open in what is apparently mortal offense, and the rest of Sam's birthday is spent arguing over viable pet names for the tiny white demon kitten from hell.

#this is far from perfect but im kind of just pleased i wrote something at all #do i look like i know how the marvel timeline works. no. so sams forty #my writing #taylor swift prompt meme #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sarah wilson #the falcon and the winter soldier #marvel #sam x bucky #tfatws

[generalluxun]

Fanfiction: Dates, Places, People, and Things

Author's note: Lukabrina! Julerose! Myvan! (Chlogami?-ish? the start of some frenemies?) It's been a hot minute since I did one for them and they are long overdue! This is technically a sequel to my fic 'The Helpers' which saw them getting together. It's a fluffy bit of fluff about visit to the liberty for one of Kitty Section's practices.

This is part 1 of 3. The story is also being posted on my AO3(link in bio) Full text of part 1 below the cut.

Sabrina: We're almost there. 😱😬 I'm doing my best, but this is scary, senpai! 😨💀

Luka: Don't worry. I've talked with the band. People know she's coming, they're ready. 

Sabrina: I will need a huuuugggg after this. 😟😫

Luka: You can have one. You can have one as soon as it starts too, and at any point I'm not playing.

Sabrina wiggled in her seat, then tapped her phone against her lips as she thought up a reply. Her pondering was interrupted by the limo's other passenger.

"Ugh, you're texting him, aren't you?”

Sabrina winced but then straightened up and nodded, turning her head to look at Chloé in the eyes like she was supposed to. “Yeah, I am. Is that okay?”

Chloé’s lip curled into a sneer, her right hand came up, fingers flexed for a dismissive flick.

Then it all changed. Sabrina held her breath as she saw it happen. Chloé’s eyes tracked to her own hand, then her head turned as if seeing it for the first time. Surprise, frustration, then a brief flare of anger passed over her features before she deliberately put her hand down.

“Well, I suppose so, Sabrina. After all, he should know we are coming. He had better look his best! After all, I can’t have just anyone dating my assistant. Really, Sabrina, the things you get up to when I am-” Chloé clenched her jaw, suddenly looking away. “-Uhh, indisposed.”

Sabrina bit her bottom lip, suppressing a squee. Chloé’s features clouded and Sabrina tried harder, turning her head to hide her excitement. “Well, I had to keep busy somehow right? I mean before you got your… agent… things were so hectic.”

Sabrina tried to mimic one of Chloé’s lazy little stretches, to show how utterly mundane and trivial it was all supposed to be. It seemed to work. The clouds parted and Chloé sat properly in her seat again, though she did cross her arms. “It was my agent that told me this little outing of yours would be a good idea. I reserve the right to bail at any time if people are too lame though!”

Sabrina nodded enthusiastically. She had too much energy, she kept wanting to lift her phone to sent a text, but she needed to be here, but- oh when would they-

The limo rolled to a stop.

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

“Y’r bouncin’” Juleka’s soft murmur still took Luka by surprise. He snapped out of reminiscing about a gentle zephyr of notes, and realized he’d been tapping them on the ship’s railing as he waited.

He scanned the street again. “Well, I think I’m not the only one today.” He reached down and lightly flicked a series of little charms hanging from his sister’s wrist.

Juleka brought the collection of keepsakes up to her chest, covering them with her other hand. A single ceramic unicorn bangle peeked out between her fingers. “Diffr’nt reasons. S’weird.”

Luka nodded. “I do share some of your apprehension at the VIP coming, though. It’s like a difficult new song. There’s bound to be stumbling and frustration along the way. If all else fails, just remember, there are many more of us than her here.”

Juleka fingered the charms, one after the other. One, three, five, two, four, six, seven, eight, then repeat the whole process. Luka watched the cycle repeat three times, before covering her hand with his own.

“Jules, do you want me to call it off?”

His sister looked down, but raised her uncovered eye back to him, resolve blooming. “No.”

Luka let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. It’s been nearly a week since I've seen Sabrina, you know.”

Juleka rolled her eye. The hands that had been fidgeting moved up to cover her lips. “Y’ gotit so ba-ad.”

Luka puffed up and squinted at her. “Excuse me?” He flicked her little unicorn charm. “Who is talking?”

Juleka covered the charm, her pale cheeks pinking. She glanced over to where the two-footed unicorn in question was getting her face-paint touched up by Mylène. “‘Kay, shut up.” Juleka nudged his foot with hers.

Luka laughed softly. “Three pairs now, that’s a full chord. I think today will be fine. Let me share something vague, because I know how well you keep secrets too, sister mine. Your own particular worry is invested in today going well too. Try to remember that, if anything goes off the rails.”

Juleka nodded, then looked past him. “Tme’s up.”

Luka turned back to the street above. The limo that stopped wasn’t his father’s, and that narrowed down the list of options. The nearside door opened and Luka just caught sight of the ginger hair over the street-side railing. He tracked Sabrina as she darted back to the stairs that lead down to the river, a warmth blossoming in his chest. She took them three at a time, her jaw set in determination to avoid a fall.  She hit the lower level at a bounce, and her dash became a sprint. Luka’s smile grew uncontrollably.

Beside him, Juleka’s soft, “L’kout.” was appreciated.

Sabrina pivoted at the last second, arms flailing to make the sharp turn, and instead of taking the second set of steps down to the boat proper, she dove.

Luka braced and caught, spinning Sabrina once, twice, three times, to bleed off momentum. He pulled her into a fierce hug, and she buried herself against his chest.  Luka breathed in; nutmeg and paper. He opened his senses, and the melody whispered around them. Their melody.

From his chest a muffled, ”Missed you.”

Luka spoke against her hair. “Missed you too.”

From the streetside, a pronounced cleared throat caused Sabrina to squirm free from his arms quickly. Luka tried not to resent the owner of that throat.

Sabrina brushed her hair back and straightened her sweater vest. “Sorry. Luka, this is my friend Chloé Bourgeois, the ah- daughter of the Mayor of Paris and Style Q-”

“-that’s quite enough, Sabrina.” Chloé flicked her nails at Sabrina and stepped down to the ship’s deck. Luka read her body language like sheet music. Dominant, but… not domineering. Bravado stretched like a drum head over uncertainty. This is workable.

Luka stepped up and offered out his hand, “Luka Couffaine. I don’t know how much Sabrina has told you about me. Welcome to the Liberty.”

The blonde swept her gaze along the ship. “It’s not a garbage scow, I guess.” Her eyes ran back over him, dissecting. “And you’re not bad yourself, though your clothing is atr- a- a choice. Not one that I would make, but then, I’m not you, am I?”

She finished with a laugh that aped humor dripping in condescension, but Luka’s ear could pick out the forced diaphragm and constricted chest. Performative, insecure. It drew attention though. Luka felt four pairs of eyes at his back, and Chloé’s own gaze swept off him and over his shoulder. The tension in those deep blue depths rose, like the ocean before a storm.

Luka sidestepped, cutting off  the line of sight both front and back, reducing the world to the trio for the moment. He gestured along the length of the boat. “Perhaps Sabrina might show you around while we set up for today’s practice? It’s nothing fancy, but we plan on going out for dinner as a group later. You’re welcome to come.”

Luka glanced at Sabrina as he spoke, shifting the attention. The spark in those aqua eyes was a mixture of awe and gratitude. Luka's arms itched for another hug.

Chloé followed his gaze, went through a visible conflict of emotion, then snapped. "I couldn't possibly-"

"-what a shame." A new voice cut in. Kagami stepped down to the boat and inserted herself into the middle of the trio. Swish-swish, her bob bounced as she turned her head and took in the deck. "I do not see Adrien, nor Marinette."

Two bulls, one china shop. Luka called over his shoulder. "Rose, any word on our final pair?"

Instead of shouting, Juleka's pink pixie partner trotted over to the  quartet. She was all smiles, slightly undercut by the glam-rock unicorn mask perched jauntily atop her head and the black face paint along her jawline like a faux-beard.

She knotted her fingers together as she spoke. "Marinette said she probably won't make it-"

"-oh no, what a shame-" from Chloé.

Rose kept right on going. "-she said she dropped a bag of flour, then stumbled into a mixing bowl of milk. Now there's crumpet batter everywhere and she has to stay and clean it up."

That explanation brought a snicker, a chortle, a gasp, and a sigh from the assembled group.

Rose held up one finger. "As for Adrien, he said his father unexpectedly  scheduled him for underwater Mandarin lessons today. He might make it later, but it's unlikely. He said he was sorry."

Chloé spoke first from behind Kagami. "Looks like you don't have any reason to be here, Tsurugi."

Kagami spun in place, jaw set and feet braced. "You are here?"

Chloé scoffed, "Of course I am." She reached over and pulled Sabrina to her. "My Sabrina is dating the guitarist. I have to be sure this band is up to snuff."

Sabrina squeaked. Luka was trying to figure out how to handle this rapidly devolving situation when Kagami cut back, "These people are my friends. If you are present, then my purpose here is clear."

She grabbed Chloé's hand and stalked off with the other girl, towards the opposite end of the boat.

Chloé stumbled after her, wailing, "Wait-what- what are you doing?"

"Keeping you out of trouble."

The remaining three watched them go. Sabrina stepped in closer to Luka again. "Are they gonna be okay?"

Luka hummed, "It's an unexpected change of key, but sometimes that is exactly what is required."

He slipped his arm around Sabrina's waist and she snuggled back in. He would never get tired of how simply natural it felt to hold her. From the contact their melody drifted up into his mind once more.

Rose's quiet squee brought things back into focus.

Luka turned with Sabrina in the sweep of his arm. "We've got a playmate for you today."

She peeked up at him, but almost immediately nestled her head back in as they walked, "What did you break this time?"

Luka feigned a stagger, "Why do you think it was me? I'm hurt, shocked and hurt."

Nimble little fingers poked his ribs where no one else could see. His stagger turned into a squirm. Luka fought to escape the attack without letting her out of his side-embrace. "Okay, okay I give! But honestly, I don't know what happened."

They stopped in front of a half-stack pulled away from the rest. Mylène was seated nearby, piles of envelopes and papers around her. Sabrina slipped Luka's arm and approached the defunct speaker. She ran a hand along the back, fingertips already picking out the screws. "It's old Senpai, like you."

Her cheeky little grin was a rare thing. Luka raised an eyebrow. "You're in a mood."

Sabrina shook out her hands. "Too much ener-G!" She looked toward the rear of the boat.

Luka leaned in, bumping noses. "You could always come up on stage with us."

Sabrina dropped like a rock onto the bench beside Mylène. She covered her head with her arms, peeking up again. "I'll be good. I'll be quiet. Just leave me tools, and go play."

Luka gave her a playfully evil laugh. He kissed his fingertips then slipped them past her guard to touch her cheek. "Yes, dear."

#miraculous ladybug #ml fanfiction #ml fanfic #my fic #Sabrina raincomprix #Luka couffaine #Lukabrina #Julerose #Myvan #juleka couffaine #rose lavillant #mylene haprele #ivan bruel #chloe bourgeois #kagami tsurugi #fluff #just fluff #so fluffy #sequel

[mauverawrites]

Can I ask what rarepair ship you invented? No judgement, I'm just genuinely curious. Feel free to ignore this if you dont want to say.

lmao I accidentally made the parkner (Peter Parker/Harley keener) ship originally in my proof spiderman loves Clickbait fic, then I wrote a few more stories featuring them for some of my friends. I absolutely did not expect so many people to latch on to them but I’m glad everyone is having fun with that whole dynamic

#I think there were technically like six or seven fics of them before I got there?? but they weren’t about their character really so idk #I’m still gonna take credit for it anyway lmaoo #parkner #?? #ask tag

[stellisketches]

MCD Headcanons I have that have nothing to do with anything (pt 3)

Laurance’s favorite animal is the ladybug

There are six major regions in the world of MCD

Someday, I will draw a map of them

Dante had turned 19 three months prior to meeting the Phoenix Drop gang in season 1

Each of the jurors have their own signature weapon

Katelyn uses her gauntlets, Janus his bigass claymore, Jeffory his glaive, Ivy a scythe, Lillian a pair of chakrams, Ivan a staff, Teony a spear, and (bonus points if you’ve read my MCD fic) Alexei a pair of hatchets

Aphmau is a horny drunk

Zane joined the priesthood in order to escape an arranged marriage that was being planned between him and the Lord of Narhaka’s daughter

He was only able to do this because Garroth gave him a warning that he had overheard Garte talking about it 6 months in advance, leaving him with enough time to play the ‘religious teenage awakening’ card to the Then High Priest. He was around 14 when that happened

Travis has several tattoos on his arms (semi inspired by that of Inuit peoples)

Lucinda is really good at playing poker. Like scary good.

She won Bigglesworth in a poker game when she was 16

Katelyn still has to make an ‘L’ with her hands in order to tell her right from her left

Laurance used to bring a lot of animals home and claim them as his ‘pets’, but they rarely stayed more than a week before running off.

Garroth is a Capricorn

Cadenza will only eat a sandwich if it cut into fourths

Garroth fainted the first time he saw a pair of titties

He was seven

It was a painting

Garroth used to get into tavern brawls when he was a teenager. Vylad was in charge of taking bets

Levin can fit his entire fist in his mouth, both as a baby and as an adult

Janus stopped terrorizing the Tu’li country side after Zane disappeared, he pretty much only did it on Zane’s orders (Though I don’t think he actually felt bad about it or anything, more like a neutral ‘orders are orders’ thing)

He was just chillin in some random cabin in the Tu’li countryside when Ivy came along and murked him.

Laurance used to have his ears pierced when he was a teenager, however once he tried to give himself another piercing (without the assistance of Cadenza) and got an infection. After that he stopped wearing earrings and the holes healed shut

Also tried to give himself a belly button piercing once, met with similar results and a lot more screaming

Dante has a tattoo of his oath to the guard on his side midriff (I did a drawing of this a while back)

Technically the legal drinking age in most Ru’aunian villages is 17, but like, no one fucking enforces it. A twelve year old could look a barkeep in the eye and say “I’m seventeen” and barkeep will be like “You’re offering to pay double so enjoy your beverage, fully-legal-adult”

Really just depends on the morality of the bartender

Cadenza once stole an entire shipment of ale and sold it at twice the markup while the tavern owners were waiting on another shipment. Hayden was the only person who knew about it, and Cadenza dubbed it ‘a self-taught lesson of supply and demand’

Hayden immediately made her heir to the lordship of Meteli after that

Also she was like. 11. when that happened

Also she would occasionally purposefully cut the buttons’ off Laurance’s clothes and make him pay her to sew them back on. 

None of the Ro’Meave boys got the Birds ‘n Bees talk from anyone, though Zianna did try discreetly leaving biology books in her son’s rooms when they were reaching ‘the age’

Zane was the only one who ever read it, to which he immediately discovered he was asexual

Vylad had actually learned about sex a few years prior by picking a book off the higher shelves of Zianna’s personal library (Though it did take another few months of combing the romance section for him to figure out he was gay)

Zane and Vylad had a bet on how and how long it would take Garroth to find out

Garroth and Dante have both wandered off from patrol in order to pet a stray animal. Neither of them have or would ever admit it.

In Meteli, there’s a statue of Irene sitting with her hands out peacefully. Whenever Laurence gets black-out drunk, he usually wakes up curled in the statue’s lap

Katelyn always sleeps with one of her gauntlets on

John (Visher’s son) used to get in trouble for swimming in the canals in Bright Port

Aphmau’s favorite flower is Juniper

Garroth keeps a small necklace with a charm of the sigil of Esmund. 

It’s a fairly common for guards to own something with the sigil on it (usually its some kind of jewelry, but some keep it in other ways like having it sewn into capes, carved into armor or sword, or even tattooed)

Similarly, Laurance has a locket with the sigil carved in the back that Cadenza gave him when he was officially initiated.

He used to have an earring for it but he gave it to Cadenza after ‘the incident’

Garroth has a very low spice tolerance, but he would never turn down a meal someone served to him. He would eat the whole thing without making a single noise while his face would be as red as a tomato and tongue in utter agony

Travis’s favorite animal are seals

His favorite food is grilled squid, which he was also able to turn Aphmau on to

Katelyn loves birdwatching

Gene used tell Dante bedtime stories

Malachi once stole a boat because of a drunken bet with Levin

Lilith was an absolute menace once she got to her teenage years, and constantly got into fights with Alina

#Minecraft Diaries #minecraft diaries headcanons #aphmau garroth #garroth ro'meave #mcd garroth #Aphmau #aphmau laurance #aphmau mcd #mcd laurance #Laurance Zvhal #zane ro'meave #vylad ro'meave #mcd vylad

[live-the-fangirl-life]

New York City, United States

A World Away Part 7

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn - World Travelers AU

Travel Tip #79: For the best experience in any city, try to pair the excitement of a tourist with the know-how of a local. Both perspectives will enlighten the other.

Part 6 | Fic Masterlist | MoodBoard | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language

12,010 words

*******

“I’m so excited,” Lysandra beamed giddily to Elide who rolled her eyes but smirked in agreement. “We finally get to meet your mysterious, worldly man.”

The bustling sounds of Third Avenue were quieted by the terrace of flowers separating the outdoor tables from the rest of Manhattan. Aelin looked through the small spaces between half-open petals and watched as dark cars flew by, accented by the tell-tale bright yellow of a taxicab.

She snorted, going back to perusing the brunch menu. “He isn’t my anything. He’s just Rowan.” Aelin didn’t miss the sidelong glance her friends exchanged.

“I didn’t exactly mean it like that, but since you brought it up,” Lysandra drawled, sipping from her mimosa as a sly grin stretched across her face, widening at Aelin’s sigh. “This is Rowan we’re talking about. The same Rowan who met you halfway across the world for a four-day trek through the jungle.”

“It was not—” Aelin shook her head and put her menu down, but Elide cut in.

“The same Rowan with whom you spent an entire day in Marrakesh talking to,” The brunette raised a brow as Lysandra nodded fervently. “Completely blowing off your scheduled bazaar tour.”

“Okay,” the blonde tried to wave them off. “That wasn’t a big deal because I’d already been wandering around the bazaar—”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you spent hours catching up with a veritable stranger,” Lysandra retorted.

“He wasn’t a stranger. And it had been, like, seven months since we’d seen each other at that point.” Aelin argued, picking up her own glass of citrusy prosecco.

“Right,” Elide grinned. “Seven months since the two of you miraculously met in Santorini—”

“Technically we met on the boat to Santorini—”

“Where he was so enthralled by you,” Elide talked over her, trying to prove her point, “that he took your picture and used it as,” she turned towards Lysandra, feigning forgetfulness, and ignored the way Aelin sat back with her arms crossed, staring indignantly at them.

“His Enchanting Moment.” Lysandra finished helpfully.

Right. That had been a surprise. After Rowan had shown her the photo and brief magazine spread, Aelin went searching for the full edition. It wasn’t until a few weeks later while strolling through the streets of Barcelona that she found the magazine at a small roadside stand. She’d made friends with her hostel manager and got her to translate the multi-page article that held her image. Later, Aelin had found an English version which she bought as a keepsake along with a subscription to the magazine.

Aelin was saved from her friend’s prying by the waiter who came to take their orders. Once he’d walked away, she said, “Look, think whatever you want, just please don’t be weird when he’s here.”

Lysandra batted her eyelashes. “Why? Afraid we’ll embarrass you in front of your secret, jet-setting lover?”

Her friend laughed as Aelin threw a grape at her face. “I’m serious, Lys,” Aelin rolled her eyes, huffing a laugh as two of her closest friends teased her. “You too, Lochan. Rowan is my friend. Gods know it took us long enough to even get to that point. I don’t need you two meddling. And I really don’t want to lose my travel partner because you’ve somehow got it into your heads that there’s something between us.”

Her friends’ smirks softened, and they shared another look before Elide asked, “Is there something between you?”

That was complicated. So very complicated.

Aelin scoffed again but this time it felt a little hollow. “I’ve seen him a total of six times—”

“Tomorrow will make seven—”

“—in two years, El. And half of those were just us yelling and arguing with each other.”

Their food came, interrupting the conversation, but Lysandra leaned over and whispered, “Don’t think I missed how you didn’t actually answer El’s question.”

She didn’t respond as Lysandra sent her one last knowing look before thankfully steering the conversation elsewhere.

Two years. It had been two years since Rowan literally ran into her in Florence.

Sometimes, Aelin wondered how that irritable man had become such a central point in her life.

They talked all the time. Sharing stories of their adventures and the exciting things in their lives. It almost felt routine now to video call him after a busy explorative weekend to catch up. But it wasn’t just the big things, it was also the everyday mundane things like accidentally missing a train or ordering the wrong thing at a restaurant.

They had both tried to coordinate their schedules a dozen times in the last six and a half months, but it never seemed to work out. Which led them to the constant messaging and calls.

So, when she told Rowan about this celebration fundraiser that her parents—technically, the partnered companies of Galathynius Incorporated and Ashryver Assets—were throwing, and offered him an invitation sweetened with a bribe of seeing her, she’d been excitedly surprised at his immediate acceptance.

After Rowan had left Peru, Aelin stayed there for six more days. Then she’d spent three weeks doing just as she told him she would—she traveled through Bolivia to the Salar de Uyuni and walked across the mirror-like salt flats.

But then she had flown home to New York. And hadn’t left since.

Her parents were finally retiring from their roles as heads of the joint companies, and Aedion had spent the last six months under her parents’ wings, becoming more hands-on and in a place to easily transition towards leadership once her parents stepped down.

And Aelin, despite having no interest in working a corporate role, had grown up in the heart of the merged companies and knew the ins and outs of how to charm her way with the other Manhattan socialites. She had helped her cousin finalize contracts and secure donations, with this fundraiser being one of the last events to cement new partnerships before Aedion officially took over.

As much as she loved seeing her family, Aelin was getting antsy staying in one place for so long. She hoped having Rowan in the city would make her feel better. He always seemed to these days.

***

The flight wasn’t bad.

Rowan had learned in his years of traveling to always book the window seat so he wouldn’t have to constantly get up every time someone beside him needed to use the toilet. That, and the frequency of his flying had programmed him to be able to fall asleep as soon as he settled in. He’d felt the smooth take-off from Dublin and then they were touching down at JFK.

For once, he hadn’t brought his camera bag. It was odd, walking off the plane without the ever-present weight over his shoulder, but Rowan knew he didn’t want to spend the next few days with a lens in front of his face. Not when he hadn’t seen Aelin for half a year.

The thought of finally getting to see her in person again quickened his steps as he navigated towards baggage claim.

Rowan should’ve been expecting it. Especially given how much Aelin enjoyed teasing him.

He shouldn’t have been surprised to see her standing near baggage claim holding a large, brightly colored sign bedecked in glitter that read BUZZARD.

Rowan also shouldn’t have been surprised at how instantly his mood lifted to see her there, or the feeling he got when her own grin widened when she noticed him.

The closer he got, the more aggressively she gestured with the sign as if it was her personal mission to make as many people as possible aware that he was who she’d nicknamed after a bird.

Then he was standing in front of her. And then Aelin had her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him into a hug that he returned without hesitation. They were jostled as people moved around them and Aelin reluctantly stepped back.

“Hello Buzzard,” she grinned, her face shining with amusement and something else he couldn’t name.

He rolled his eyes but huffed a laugh, unable to stop the same grin from spreading across his face. “Aelin.”

She nudged his arm and said, “I’m so glad you were able to be here.” Her voice held a hint of a Manhattan accent that he hadn’t noticed before, her time back home must’ve brought out what she’d lost abroad.

“I had a good reason to come all this way.” He told her.

Aelin nodded, still smiling. “The party is going to be spectacular—you’ll love it.”

Rowan took a step forward, using the crowds of people as an excuse to be closer to her. “I wasn’t talking about the party.” He corrected, letting her hear what he wasn’t saying.

His words hung in the air as Aelin’s eyes widened a fraction. Something in her demeanor changed and Rowan swore her smile tugged upwards.

But the moment was interrupted by a muffled announcement about some flight arriving, and Aelin cleared her throat, blinking and dragging her eyes away from his. “Ready?”

“Yeah, let me just grab my bag,” he jerked his head towards the rotating conveyor belt slowly taking on more luggage as bags continued to get loaded off the plane.

Before he knew it, Rowan was sitting in the passenger seat of Aelin’s car, and they were driving towards the city.

“So,” Aelin reached over and turned down the music, keeping an eye on the traffic. “I know you’ve been to New York before, but I had a few ideas…”

They fell into an easy rhythm and soon Aelin was pulling the car into a garage just off Park Avenue. She got out, handing the keys to a nearby attendant.

Rowan walked around the car to get his bags from the trunk and shot her a questioning look. Aelin shrugged, “We have a few spots in here we pay for monthly. It’s nice to have the car nearby when you wanna get out of the city.” She waved goodbye to the attendant in thanks and Rowan followed as she walked out of the garage. “Aedion’s building is just around the block.”

“How’s it been living with him all these months?” Rowan asked, falling into step with her.

Aelin rolled her eyes and snorted. “Better than living with my parents. Aedion’s gone half the time at his girlfriend, Lysandra’s, place, and I get to pretend I have the apartment all to myself.”

He nodded, as much as he loved his parents, he wasn’t sure he could live with them for so long, having been on his own since university. “Lysandra—your arch-nemesis turned best friend turned cousin’s girlfriend,” Rowan recalled the details of Aelin’s friends from the countless conversations they’d had.

She laughed and pulled open the lobby door once they got to the building. “Gods, arch-nemesis, that sounds so dramatic.”

“Exactly why I wasn’t surprised you called her that.”

Aelin whirled and shot him a glare that was negated by the twitching of her lips.

“Ass.”

Rowan smirked, following Aelin into the elevator. “But not wrong.”

“Whatever. And for the record, she is my best friend first, Aedion’s girlfriend second.” she rolled her eyes but went on, “You’ll get to meet them and Elide tonight, we’re going for drinks in the West Village.” Aelin paused. “If you’re up for that, I mean. I didn't think about jetlag, fuck, it’s been so long since I’ve thought about jetlag.” She said the last bit more to herself and it came out laced with a longing he hadn’t expected.

“I slept on the plane,” he assured her. “No jetlag to worry about.”

She brightened at that. “Great.”

The elevator opened and Aelin strode out, leading him towards the only door on this side of the hall.

The apartment was spacious and bright in a way he hadn’t expected but realized probably made sense given who Aelin’s family was. The far wall was almost entirely made of windows, providing an unobstructed view over Central Park and the city beyond.

Hallways stretched both ways off the living room, one leading to a master bedroom (Aedion’s, and Lysandra’s whenever she stayed over) and a den (the current storage space for Aelin’s international book collection), while the other hall shot off from the kitchen and led to two bedrooms (Aelin’s and a guest room).

The kitchen flowed into the dining space and living room, all eccentrically decorated like it couldn’t settle on one particular style.

Aelin caught him checking out some of the pieces and pointed out, “That lamp over there, the mosaiced one, I got that on a day trip to Bosnia and Herzegovina. I had to find a way to ship it here right after because I only had my backpack on me.” She laughed, remembering.

Rowan snorted, setting his bag on the floor and nodding towards a wall of brightly colored, elaborate masks. “What about those?”

She ticked each one off, “First time to New Orleans, Venice during Carnival, New Orleans during Mardi Gras, and a Masquerade party in Berlin.”

He spotted all sorts of souvenirs and proof of her adventures, knowing without a doubt she had far more than what he could see. It was like being in a miniature museum of Aelin.

Aelin let him unpack before grabbing some snacks and spending the afternoon catching up on their time apart.

Rowan loved their messaging and video calls, but nothing could compare to the real thing.

***

They took the subway downtown and got to the bar shortly after she’d gotten a text from Elide confirming her and Rowan’s drink order.

She wove through the crowds, all too aware of how close Rowan walked behind her.

Aelin made a note to be careful of how much she drank tonight, she already felt intoxicated by Rowan’s presence. She didn’t need extra alcohol lowering her dwindling restraint. When he brushed against her back, pushed forward by someone hurrying past, he murmured an apology and she had to repress a shiver despite the warm atmosphere.

Thankfully, she spotted her friends in the back corner and headed towards them.

Elide noticed them first, her eyes widening as a sly smirk appeared. She arched a brow subtly enough that Aelin knew the look was just for her. Lysandra saw them next and set her cocktail down with a wide grin, dragging Aedion’s attention from her and to Aelin and Rowan at the end of the table.

“Hey, we made it!” Aelin grinned, raising her voice above the music. “Guys, this is Rowan.” She jerked her head unnecessarily at the unusually fidgety man beside her and then gestured to each of her friends. “Rowan, this is Elide, Lysandra, and my cousin Aedion.”

The ladies scooted further down the table as her cousin got up and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before holding a hand out to Rowan.

“Good to meet you, man,” Aedion said, grinning, as Rowan clasped his hand in a strong handshake. “We’ve all heard a lot about you.”

Rowan smirked and raised a brow at Aelin who glared at her cousin and shooed Rowan into the booth before sitting down at the end.

“Yeah,” Elide chimed in from Rowan’s other side, grinning her greeting as he and Aelin grabbed the two remaining drinks her friends had ordered for them. “It’s so nice to finally meet Mr. International Ignoramus.”

Rowan choked on his gin and tonic. “Excuse me?”

Aelin closed her eyes and muttered something about getting new friends.

She rolled her eyes at Elide and ignored the other’s laughter as she nudged Rowan and explained. “Do you remember on that ferry ride how when I asked you your name, I said you should tell me because you probably wouldn’t like the names I’d made up for you?” She shrugged, letting him fill in the blanks.

“International Ignoramus?” he asked incredulously. “Really?”

This time Aelin laughed, amused by the faint humor in his eyes as he questioned her.

“Mhm,” she grinned and leaned into him again. “That’s not even the worst one.”

Rowan loosed a sigh and shot her a long-suffering look that only made her laugh harder. “I don’t want to know.”

Lysandra snorted, ignoring his request. “You were also Dumbass Douchebag.”

“Worldly Wanker had a nice ring to it,” Aedion added, laughing.

Elide shook her head with a smirk, “I always liked Bitch-ass Birdbrain.”

Both Rowan and Aelin gaped at her friends. She, at least, was wondering if the floor beneath her could open up and swallow her whole.

Rowan sputtered a few times before whirling on her and demanding, “What is with you and calling me a bird?”

She grinned sheepishly. “You can’t really blame me…we didn’t get off to the best start.”

Rowan shook his head, choking out a laugh. “Buzzard wasn’t even something you thought up in the moment, was it? You’d had that one ready for a while,” he accused.

Aelin grinned wider, not denying it, and they all laughed at her and Rowan’s rocky beginnings.

An hour, and many more laughs later, Aelin was thrilled at how well Rowan fit with her friends. They were having a great time, and once they’d gotten past the nickname fiasco, she had more fun than she’d had in a while.

It made her happy to have all her favorite people together.

“I’ll get the next round, Aelin could you help me carry them over?” Lysandra asked, already hooking her arm through Aelin’s and pulling her from the table. Once they got to the bar and ordered their drinks, she swatted Aelin’s shoulder and hissed, “Aelin, why the hell are you two not together?”

Aelin’s brows flew up. “What?”

Her friend sighed but adamantly explained, “Oh, don’t give me that I have no idea what you’re talking about shit.” She waggled a finger in Aelin’s face, “You know exactly what I’m talking about. The chemistry? The sexual tension? I was sitting there just waiting for you both to say: ‘Surprise! We’ve been fucking this whole time.’”

Aelin huffed and grabbed two of the drinks the bartender passed them. “It’s not like that, Lys. Drop it. And I told you not to be weird, I don’t need you meddling.”

“That’s why I’m talking to you now.” Lysandra countered, looking pointedly at the bar and away from the table they’d just left. Her expression softened. “Babe, I felt like I was intruding on some private moment back there when all you two were doing was talking. All those inside jokes, the little glances when you think the other isn’t looking—not at all subtle, by the way. I haven’t seen you this…” she trailed off trying to find the right word. “Vibrant, since you came back to the city. Which is a little insulting,” she added, laughing.

Aelin snorted but couldn’t suppress the smile she felt growing, or the flutter in her chest as her friend so obviously liked the idea of her and Rowan together.

Lysandra grabbed the rest of the drinks, and they made their way back towards the table. Before they were within earshot, she finished, “I know it. El knows it. Even Aedion asked me if there was something between you two, and I love that man, but he never picks up on that kind of thing. All I’m saying is…don’t not go for it just because you’re scared of what might change.”

They got back to their group before Aelin could respond. A thousand thoughts flew through her mind at Lysandra’s words, and it must have shown on her face because Rowan shot her a concerned look as she reclaimed her seat next to him. Aelin waved him off and put a smile on.

She could overthink it later.

They went two more rounds before deciding to call it a night. Elide caught a taxi, waving goodbye and saying she’d see them at the fundraiser. Aelin, Rowan, Lysandra, and Aedion took an Uber back to the apartment; she and Rowan shared a wince as the couple disappeared down the opposite hall, their bodies already too intertwined for Aelin’s sanity.

Lysandra’s advice had, unfortunately, played on a constant loop. Like an annoyingly catchy song she couldn’t get out of her head. So, she mumbled goodnight to Rowan and quickly sequestered herself in her room, hoping a good night’s sleep would clear her mind…or offer some clarity.

***

Aelin barged into Rowan’s room the next morning, shocking him awake and getting a very distracting view of his bare chest as he flew up in alarm.

That didn’t help her when it came to considering Lysandra’s advice. Or maybe it did.

She blinked, hoping he didn’t notice her momentary pause, and announced that she had a full list of things she wanted to do and to be ready to go in a few minutes.

“The sun’s a-shining and time’s a-wasting,” she rambled, having no idea what she was saying. “I can promise you coffee and food.” She grinned overenthusiastically. “Let’s go!”

Then she rushed out to the living room and waited for Rowan to get ready as she willed her pulse to stop racing.

***

“I swear to gods,” Rowan lifted a hand as if to prove his point. “The little gremlin bit me. That’s the last time I work with a traveling zoo.”

Aelin laughed, tossing her head back, and felt the wind catch her hair. “Why were you photographing them at all?” She choked out between giggles, picturing Rowan’s ass getting bitten by a baby monkey. And then just Rowan’s ass.

He shrugged, lips twitching as he tried not to smirk, “They were touring around the British Isles and we did a small write-up about the company, normally those assignments don’t end with bite marks on my ass.”

Rowan winced and Aelin snorted at the disturbed look they garnered from the young mother passing them on the other side of the trail.

“Do you get a say in which assignments you take?” She asked through the last of her amusement.

Rowan shrugged and kept his eyes on the trail ahead of them.

After her promise of food and coffee, Aelin took Rowan to her bagel shop a few blocks away. When he dubiously eyed the line stretching almost outside the shop, she insisted the wait would be worth it.

They’d walked leisurely towards Central Park, staying mindful of the other pedestrians hurrying by. The morning was nice if a little breezy, and Aelin was glad she’d brought a light jacket as they each carried a large coffee and a fresh, loaded bagel, following the meandering trails of the park.

At her question, the laughter seemed to leave his face.

“No, not really.” He shrugged. “I mean, I have enough seniority to pick and choose to an extent, but only from the contracts already signed with the magazine.”

Aelin glanced sidelong at Rowan who was staring down the walkway in front of them, contemplative. She caught his quick look at her and raised a brow, waiting for him to go on.

“Actually, I’ve got some things in the works I haven’t told you about,” he hedged, and his voice held a thread of contained excitement.

“I’m listening,” she drawled, finishing her bagel and tossing the wrapper in the trash.

Rowan fixed her with a stern expression. “You can’t go around talking about yet.”

“My lips are sealed,” She smirked and mimed zipping her mouth shut only to immediately talk again. “Now I’m even more intrigued, what’s so secretive? Are you starting your own rival magazine?” she goaded with a grin.

Rowan huffed and rolled his eyes. “Actually, yes.”

Aelin stopped walking and Rowan turned back, a pace ahead, with a raised brow and a smirk at her shock.

“Wait, really?” her eyes were wide as she caught back up to him.

Rowan nodded. “I’ve been working with a few colleagues—friends—to create the plan for it.”

“Wow,” She grinned, pleased to see his face losing some of its guardedness at her support. “That’s amazing, Rowan.”

They sat down on a bench off to the side of the trail, right at the bend so they could still see the nearby pond.

“How’s that all gonna work?” Aelin asked, bending one leg on the bench and leaning against the armrest to face Rowan who stretched his arm across the back. “Do you all work together now? Are you just going to go in and quit one day, taking a chunk of the staff with you?”

“Kind of,” Rowan winced as he explained. “Only three of us work together right now. Lorcan, my own supervisor, is coming on as Editor. He’s used to making final calls and doesn’t mind the more logistically restrictive part of it. And Fenrys, who’ll head up the Public Relations and outreach—using his annoyingly effective charm to secure our contracts. I would, of course, direct Photography and work with the writers.”

Aelin liked the way Rowan talked. The more he told her about the project, the more animated he became. Aelin knew that despite how much he enjoyed the job he had now, he’d never been this inspired.

“My cousin, Enda, is a columnist for a small newspaper in Edinburgh, but he’ll be joining us as a chief writer. We’ve got a few other writers tentatively with us, but we won’t know for sure until we get this off the ground. Between us, we have the connections to get projects and stories right off the bat.”

Aelin propped her head on her hand, leaning against the back of the bench. “You’ve put a lot of work into this. How long have you been planning?”

Rowan finished his coffee and thought about it. “A couple of months?” he chuckled. “It started as a joke after our Editor-in-Chief made another ridiculous unilateral decision that ended with everyone having to essentially recreate their week’s work. But then it wasn’t a joke. And now we’re here.”

“Wait,” she cut in, her brain snagging on something he said. “You said your new editor was restricted. Isn’t that the most influential position?”

Rowan grinned, his face lighting up as if he’d been waiting for her to ask. “Technically, yes. I meant it's more physically restricting. See, we want to launch this as an online publication to start. Hopefully— eventually—we’ll transition into print too, but first and foremost, it’ll be digital.”

“That’ll definitely make it more accessible,” she commended, already thinking what else that could mean.

He nodded again. “Exactly. It would reach more people, it gives us more opportunities to grow, and we could work on projects that extend beyond Europe.”

Aelin’s heart was pounding in her chest as she added, almost tentatively, “You could work from anywhere you want.”

Rowan caught and held her gaze, his eyes full of intent. Dipping his chin, Rowan gave the barest of nods and confirmed, “I could work from anywhere I want.”

Something passed between them that Aelin couldn’t name, a mutual acknowledgment that neither dared to voice.

“How long—” her voice sounded strained so Aelin cleared her throat and asked again, “How long will it take before you can get it up and running?”

How long before we’re both untethered?

The way Rowan was looking at her made Aelin believe he knew exactly what she was thinking. Knew exactly what it implied.

He carded a hand through his hair and loosed a breath, and she felt like she needed to do the same. “I don’t know. There’s a lot of corporate bullshit we have to wade through and we’re still looking for a designer—”

“A digital designer?” she chimed in, sitting up straighter.

“Pretty much. It’s the Digital Editor and Designer.” Rowan rolled his eyes and hung his head back in frustration. “They’d be primarily working with Lorcan, and half the trouble is finding someone who can put up with him without wanting to run away or punch him.”

Aelin snorted at his disgruntled face and watched as a biker rode by with a dog running at his side.

“I’m not trying to insert myself in this,” she prefaced, and Rowan raised a brow. “But I know an amazing graphic designer who could probably knock your friend down a peg or two.” Aelin grinned as his brow rose further in skepticism

“Are you serious?” he sat up straighter. “Lorcan is a dick on a good day.”

“Oh, I’ve seen her tear down even the most dick-ish of men,” She laughed.

He arched a brow but leaned in, very interested in who she was talking about.

“Elide.” Aelin divulged, and his brows flew to his hairline. “She’s worked with GIAA—Galathynius Incorporated & Ashryver Assets—as a graphic designer in the marketing department for both divisions. Right now, she’s working more with Aedion as they transition him to Head Office. But that’s basically finalized, and I know for a fact she’s been looking for other projects. That’s not to say she’ll leave GIAA, but you could talk to her about this.”

Rowan listened and when she finished explaining his brows furrowed as if thinking how that could work.

“Now I’m just picturing Elide and Lorcan going toe to toe.” He choked on a laugh. “Yeah, she could definitely handle him. I’ll keep that in mind.”

***

They left the park shortly after, and Rowan marveled at how the massive, sprawling park fit so perfectly within the skyscrapers.

He felt lighter than he’d had in a while. It wasn’t like he’d been trying to hide his work plans from Aelin, but when he first started planning it seemed so intangible that why should he tell her when it most likely wouldn’t amount to anything. But it had. And the longer he put off talking about it, the weirder it felt to bring it up.

He was excited. For so many reasons he was itching to launch Coast to Cadre, but he wouldn’t lie and say he hadn’t thought about what it could mean to not have to be bound to Dublin.

And by the way she’d looked at him, Rowan swore Aelin was thinking the same thing.

Because that was one of the biggest obstacles, wasn’t it? Besides everything else that added pressure to his and Aelin’s relationship—friendship or otherwise—was the fact that she was always on the move. With the last six months being an exception, Aelin traveled wherever her feet took her. He loved that.

Despite the relative freedom afforded to him by his job, he was still forced to return to one place. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t go with her wherever she went. And he wouldn’t be that guy to ask her to stop traveling the way she does, for him.

All of that had been an unerring, colossal complication, and he’d resigned himself to make do with the fleeting time they had.

And now, for the first time, that had the potential to change.

They spent the rest of the afternoon hopping from attraction to attraction. Aelin brought him to the Museum of Modern Art, pulling him through the lines and up to the fifth floor to see Van Gogh’s Starry Night and Monet’s Agapanthus and Water Lilies in all their vivid, beautiful glory.

Afterward, they bought a hot dog and a gyro off a couple of street vendors, sharing their food on the steps of the New York Public Library.

“I’ve done Time Square,” Rowan assured her, and to his great amusement, she sighed in relief.

“Oh, thank gods, I don’t think I have the energy to brave Time Square this week,” Aelin admitted. “What about the Statue of Liberty?”

Snatching a falling piece of chicken from the gyro she held, Rowan nodded. “Yup, covered that.”

“Good. Empire State Building?”

“Most of the super touristy stuff I’ve done.” He guaranteed.

She arched a brow and reclined on the step behind her. “And you had the audacity to mock me when I say I do touristy things?”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’ve also,” he ticked off on his fingers, recalling his last trip to New York, “walked across the Brooklyn bridge, been to Grand Central Station, and saw a Broadway show.”

“Which one?”

“The Lion King.”

“Nice.” She crumpled up her empty wrapper. “In that case, we have a bit more wiggle room in this week’s plans.”

Choosing to walk rather than use the subway or get a car, he and Aelin strolled the thirty-plus blocks back to Aedion’s apartment, making sure to stop for a dollar slice pizza on the way.

***

Rowan woke up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee.

Throwing on a shirt and a pair of joggers, he checked his phone before walking out of the guestroom and towards the kitchen.

Aelin faced the coffee pot, impatiently waiting by the way she was fidgeting with the mug in her hands for the pot to fill. Grumbling a few choice words at the thing, she turned her head and tiredly nodded to him as he opened the cabinet she’d pointed out to him when he’d first arrived, and pulled out a mug of his own.

No sooner had the machine finished pouring than Aelin snatched the pot and poured a cup of the steaming liquid.

“G’Morning,” she yawned, carefully handing him the pot.

“Morning.” Rowan grabbed it and hid his chuckle at her drowsy state. “Not making enough for your cousin?” he joked, putting the empty pot back on and making sure the machine was off.

She fell into a chair at the circular dining table and shook her head which sent her messily tied bun flopping side-to-side. “He was gone when I woke up. If he wants coffee, he can make another pot.” She yawned again and Rowan didn’t bother hiding his grin this time.

Rowan watched Aelin yawn again and drown her coffee in sweetened creamer. “What, you still need all that sugar after trying the authentic stuff in the Andes?” he teased, his smirk growing when she glared at him and held eye contact as she poured more into her mug.

“Buzzard.” She grumbled the nickname like it was a curse which only made him laugh and she rolled her eyes while failing to hold back a smirk.

Resituating herself in the chair, she closed her eyes and happily sipped at her coffee, breathing in the caramel aromas.

It presented Rowan the opportunity to really look at her. Aelin leaned back in the chair with one leg bent underneath her and the other propped on the corner of the seat, allowing her to rest her cheek against her knee. Her golden hair was messily thrown in a bun atop her head with straggling locks falling out around her face. She was wearing leggings and an old, oversized band tee that he thought she’d gotten at some concert.

With the warm morning light filtering through the large windows, she looked like the picture of contentment.

She seemed so at ease, so calm and peaceful.

He wanted to see her like this more often.

All the time.

A key jingled in the lock and Aedion pushed open the door for Lysandra who held two dress bags, and closed it after him while carrying a large supply of fresh bagels and what looked like more of Lysandra’s bags.

Aelin’s head popped up and her gaze followed Aedion as he strode to the kitchen. “Bagels?” she asked hopefully, not really needing an answer.

“Good morning to you too, Cous.” He snarked back, rolling his eyes but moving the food to the table where Rowan and Aelin sat.

She affectionately nudged Aedion’s shoulder as she uncurled from her chair and picked out her breakfast.

Lysandra came back in, having deposited the dresses in Aelin’s room along with her other supplies. The four of them settled at the table, fixing their own bagels with a variety of cream cheeses, lox, and butters.

“When you’re done—no rush, babe, but it’s almost noon—you should shower,” Lysandra instructed Aelin who merely arched a brow and took a bite of her everything bagel. “The hairstylist will be here in an hour and a half, and the makeup artist an hour after that.” She explained.

Aelin snorted but nodded, muttering something about her mother and every godsdamned time.

“So you ladies get to be pampered but Rowan and I have to do our own makeup?” Aedion mockingly scoffed. “Not fair.”

Lysandra rolled her eyes and Aelin snorted again.

“Don’t worry,” Rowan chimed in dryly, “I’ll make sure your eyeliner is even.”

Aedion threw an arm around the back of his girlfriend’s chair and leaned over saying something about only having one friend at this table. Rowan would have focused on how pleased he felt to hear Aedion call him a friend, regardless of whether or not he was teasing, but instead he focused on Aelin who’d laughed into her coffee and was wiping droplets off her nose as she looked at him in amusement.

He grinned at her, and in that moment, he suddenly wished he could casually drape his arm around her like the couple sitting next to them, without second-guessing himself.

They spent another thirty minutes eating and talking before Aelin excused herself to start getting ready. Not long after, Lysandra followed her, and then all they could hear from Aelin’s bedroom was loud, upbeat pop music that ended up playing for the next several hours.

After breakfast—or lunch, he supposed—Rowan sat in the living room, trying to catch up on emails. He wasn’t sure how Aedion spent the time besides twice letting in the stylists, just as Lysandra warned they’d come.

Rowan had just finished skimming another assignment request when Aedion sunk into the sofa cushion beside him, setting two beers down on the coffee table.

Grunting a thanks, Rowan shut his laptop and grabbed one of the beers, finding the cold drink blessedly refreshing. Aedion did the same and looked like he was trying to say something but kept choosing not to, opening and closing his mouth over and over.

“Something up?” Rowan asked, confused, shifting to face Aelin’s cousin more directly.

Aedion took another sip and clasped Rowan on the shoulder, leveling him with a serious expression.

“Look,” he started in a way that for some reason made Rowan’s gut sink. “I’m not gonna go all big brother on you.” He assured, which somehow didn’t make Rowan feel any more relaxed.

“Aedion,” Rowan tried to interject, but the man went on.

“For one, I don’t want to assume about anything between the two of you and make whatever it is awkward. And, frankly, because Aelin would kick my ass if she thought I was trying to have any say in who she does or doesn’t…whatever with.”

Nodding, Rowan kept his mouth shut and waited as the blond got his thoughts together and took a swig of his beer.

“I just want to tell you,” he paused again, and Rowan wished Aedion would just spit it out already.

Did he think Aelin shouldn’t see him anymore? Rowan doubted Aelin would listen, but he certainly didn’t want to be on her family’s bad side if somehow, someday, they became more than what they were.

Or maybe Aelin would listen, and this would be the last time she sought him out. No more adventures, no more daily messaging, no more—

“I want you to know that you make her happy.”

Rowan froze, his bottle halfway to his lips. He wasn’t expecting Aedion to say that. Lowering his beer, he cleared his head and met Aedion’s stare.

It took him a second to respond, “Good. I’m glad,” he replied steadily, trying to ignore what those words did to him. “She deserves to be happy.” And then he added, unable to help himself, “She makes me happy.”

Aedion watched him a moment longer then nodded, “Good. Right. Okay.” He jerked his head toward the tv, “You wanna play Mario Cart?”

The next forty minutes passed like that until they both decided it was finally time to get ready.

Music still poured from Aelin’s room as he walked by it, recognizing one of the songs he’d recommended to her a month or so ago.

Rowan quickly showered, shaved, and brushed his hair back. The silvery strands were long enough to annoy him when they fell into his eyes, but not long enough to do much else with them. He used a small bit of gel, hating the way it usually felt and looked, but just enough to keep the pieces in place.

Donning his trousers and dress shirt, Rowan deftly knotted his dark green tie, knowing how good it looked with his eyes. He thought he heard voices convene in the living room, so he quickly grabbed his phone, wallet, and passport—he’d taken enough trips with Fenrys to learn to always keep the document on hand—and walked out.

As he walked into the living room, Lysandra and Aedion were there checking the status of their car. The latter gave him a nod while the former looked him over with an approving smirk. Based on how made-up she was in her gown and styling, Rowan took the compliment.

“There’s a car coming for you and Aelin,” Aedion told him.

Lysandra nodded, “She has it on her phone, it’ll be here soon.” The brunette looked at her own phone as it chimed and Aedion grabbed his jacket. “Ours is here. We’ll see you soon.”

The couple was halfway out the door when Lysandra turned back towards Rowan, Aedion waiting for her in the hall. The brunette glanced over his shoulder then met his eyes and winked. Closing the door behind her, Rowan was left to question the feline smirk she wore.

He heard the click of heels on the hardwood floor behind him a moment later.

When Aelin walked in, Rowan forgot how to breathe.

He’d never seen anyone so beautiful.

She looked like the sun personified. The cowl-necked bodice was a pure, liquid satin melting into golden sequins that lined the hem and inched up her body, shining in the light like living flames. Her hair cascaded down one side in waves and showed off the thin, shimmery straps holding the dress up. Aelin’s bright red lips curved into a smile and then a smirk as he continued to stare dumbfounded at her.

“You…look…” he finally managed in a strangled voice, “Amazing.” Stupefying. Dazzling. Exquisite. Breathtaking. Mind-numbingly distracting.

Her smirk softened as her eyes trailed over him. “Thank you,” she crooned. “You clean up rather dashingly yourself.”

He may have preened a little at that.

Aelin walked towards the table to set her bag down and Rowan choked.

The dress was backless. It curved barely an inch above the swell of her ass, connected at a singular point to the thin straps he’d seen a moment before. That’s when he noticed the large slit up the leg of the gown, showing off her golden heels and miles of smooth, tanned leg.

She was actively trying to kill him.

“The car just arrived, are you ready?” She asked, a mischievous spark in her eye as she looked over her exposed shoulder at him.

All Rowan could do was grunt in confirmation.

Aelin flounced out of the apartment and Rowan used all his concentration and willpower to keep his pounding blood northward.

The drive was a blur. Rowan tried to pay attention as Aelin occasionally pointed out landmarks or special places, but he couldn’t stop the spiral his mind had tumbled down.

When they arrived at the venue, all Aelin had to do was wave at the doorman and security guards before she led Rowan across the lobby and towards the waiting elevator. If she noticed the way nearly everyone’s eyes tracked her as she went, she didn’t show it, just held her head high as her heels clicked against the marbled floor. Not a small part of Rowan was smug about being the one to walk in at her side.

Aelin stepped in first and Rowan followed, both turning to face the silver, polished doors that blocked out the ambient noise of the lobby, reflecting their own blurred selves back at them. The tension was palpable, and Rowan couldn’t stop from shooting glances at Aelin’s reflection, only to avert his eyes when she tried looking at him.

Rowan couldn’t figure out what to say so he kept his mouth shut. Aelin didn’t offer him any hints to what she was thinking, and the charged silence was only cut by a faint melody coming through the speaker. Instead, he focused on the floor number rising. How long was this godsdamned ride?

Aelin loosed a long breath and seemed to ready herself for whatever they were walking into.

He chanced another look at her reflection. He hadn’t exaggerated when he’d told her she looked amazing. If anything, that was an understatement. An unacceptably inferior understatement. Rowan could barely take his eyes off of her. Every shift she made, every step she took, caused the golden fabric to ripple and shine a myriad of glowing shades. It was mesmerizing. She was mesmerizing.

The elevator dinged and Rowan shook himself, having to use far too much effort. This wasn’t the time or place…to do any of the things Rowan wanted. Not when they were about to be surrounded by people Aelin was helping to impress. Not when he wasn’t unquestionably certain that she saw him as anything more than a friend.

It was like night and day stepping into the sparkling party. If the ride up had been stiflingly quiet, this was wholly the opposite.

Tasteful, lively music flowed from beyond the polished dancefloor—small enough to merely be a courtesy and not an invitation to spin one’s partner—that took up the center of the room. Tall, round tables covered in crisp off-white cloth surrounded it, each reflecting the warm glow of the lights and artful chandeliers. On one side there was a long table housing various plates of foods and desserts, capped on one end by an elaborate chocolate fountain that Rowan was sure had Aelin’s name written all over it.

Aelin walked in front of him, and Rowan cursed himself as his gaze drifted down her exposed back straight to her round ass perfectly encased in shimmery gold.

Fuck.

He forced his eyes back to the party and spotted a large champagne tower in one corner, the round long-stemmed glasses reminding him of something out of a nineteen-twenties speakeasy. A server approached them with a tray of those same crystal glasses, and both Rowan and Aelin took one before the server drifted away.

Rowan wouldn’t be convinced that anyone at this party looked as spectacular as the woman beside him, but he couldn’t lie and say it wasn’t close. As Rowan’s eyes darted around the room he was once again relieved that he’d brought his best suit—not that he would’ve worn something shabby, but each guest was dressed to the nines; impeccable tailoring, perfectly styled hair, what he was sure had to be designer everything.

“Fireheart, there you are!”

He and Aelin turned to see a middle-aged woman with Aelin’s eyes and the same, if not a little more silvery, golden hair, gracefully hurry towards them.

Rowan waited, feeling a bit out of place as Aelin hugged her mother in a warm, but quick, embrace.

“Everything looks great, you even managed to have someone change all the lightbulbs to a warmer tone in time,” Aelin told her with a soft smirk, nodding around, before angling herself to see both her mother and Rowan. “Mom, this is Rowan–”

“Oh, yes, the photographer,” her mother smiled at him, and Rowan took her outstretched hand.

“It’s nice to meet you Mrs. Galathynius,” he told her and caught Aelin raising a brow at his formalities. “Thank you for having me tonight.”

“Evalin.” she insisted not unkindly. “And it’s no trouble; a friend of Aelin’s is always welcome.”

Her attention refocused on her daughter and sighed. “Your father should be around here somewhere. I lost him some point between greeting the Courtland’s and Ytger’s.”

Aelin snorted softly and sipped from her champagne glass. “He’s probably hiding in some unused office returning phone calls and doing his best to avoid all this.”

Evalin rolled her eyes with that same exasperated fondness he sometimes caught on Aelin’s face. “That man,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Well, I’ll find him soon, he knows he has to make a speech later.”

Rowan watched Aelin take a breath and close her eyes a second too long as her mother implored, “Are you sure I can’t convince you to come up and say a little something? You know how charismatic you can be, and it would make your father and me so happy to have you stand up there with us and your cousin.”

Aelin tipped her head back, finishing her champagne with a flourish, and flashed her mother a strained smile. “I am here to schmooze.” she drawled and Evalin rolled her eyes at her daughter’s response. “That’s what I said I would do, and that’s what I am happy to do. I can stand up there with you and dad in impassioned solidarity as we celebrate Aedion and the company, but I’m not going to make some speech. Aedion should be the one in the spotlight tonight.”

Rowan downed the rest of his champagne. As if anyone else could command the attention when you’re here, doing so effortlessly.

“And Lys and I already helped tweak what he’d planned to say. It’ll be fine.” Aelin finished.

A server walked by and both he and Aelin reached for fresh glasses, Evalin still nursing the one she’d carried over. “Fine,” her mother sighed in resignation. “Oh, look, there are the Havilliard’s. Come.” She looped her arm through Aelin’s and began to whisk her away.

Aelin looked back over her shoulder with an apologetic wince. Rowan waved her off with a lifted glass, he’d expected that she would be busy schmoozing most of the night and went to find something to eat.

Rowan soon found himself at one of the tables with an empty hors d'oeuvres plate, watching the guests float around the fundraiser.

He spotted one man walk in wearing a floral embroidered suit, one he thought Fenrys would probably be able to pull off, that Rowan knew had to be designer—and far above his paygrade. A couple arrived, dressed in the style all elderly, affluent people seemed to adopt; he thought he’d spotted the same pearl necklace on half a dozen of the older women.

A woman strode in shortly after wearing a fitted dark blue suit that seemed to shimmer in the light, ignoring everyone else and putting most other suits to shame.

Rowan leaned against the table, one eye on Aelin who was smiling brightly and nodding at something one of her parents’ friends was saying, and one eye on the elevator doors, interested to see who exactly came to a party like this.

The woman in blue surveyed the room and when her eyes landed on him, they lit in recognition before she strolled towards him, a small grin playing on her features.

“Rowan,” Elide greeted him with a nod as she came to lean on the other side of his table. “What do you think?” The brunette asked, lifting her glass to the bustling party.

He flagged over a server and grabbed two new glasses of champagne, handing Elide one and putting their finished ones on the now-empty tray. Briefly, Rowan wondered if this was the perfect opportunity to talk to her about his potential business proposal, but opted to wait until he’d run the idea by his other partners.

“I wasn’t sure what to expect,” he admitted, and by her snort, he hadn’t done a great job of hiding his disdain. It wasn’t that he hated things like this, no, that was a lie, he detested events like this. All the people, the unnecessary prepping and primping, the awful small talk—it wasn’t his idea of a good time.

Rowan’s eyes drifted back to Aelin, not having trouble finding her in the crowd despite her constant shuffling between conversations. She was why he was putting up with this party. And, fuck, she knocked the air from his lungs every time he laid eyes on her in that dress.

He took a long sip of champagne.

“Mmm,” Elide hummed knowingly, not missing a second of his internal struggle. “She’s good at this.”

They both watched Aelin continue to flatter and laugh with the wealthy men and women her family was hoping to coax into donating. She moved from person to person, radiating cool confidence and charm, and not once letting show how tiring it must be.

He had to keep reminding himself that it was a façade; all those too-wide grins and the way she would lean in and touch someone on the arm all the while encouraging them to open their hearts and investments. He knew it was a role she was playing.

But she played it exceedingly well.

***

She was exhausted.

Aelin was afraid her face would be forever distorted from the way she was near-constantly smiling.

Most of the people she’d been talking to were nice, some irreverent, and a lot just plain boring. She knew most of them, her family’s acquaintances. She’d been at some function or party not unlike this one, met someone’s uncle who worked with so-and-so’s sister who went to school with some person’s cousin—all the faces blurring together.

Right now, she was tuning out whatever this guy was saying. He seemed nice enough, but she was nodding along and trying to figure out when she could slip away for a plate of those chocolate-covered strawberries when her attention was snagged by movement in her periphery.

Aelin turned, her smile faltering as she watched the back of Rowan’s silver head disappear out onto one of the balconies. She caught Elide’s eye who stood at the same table she’d tracked Rowan leaving from, and furrowed her brows, silently asking her friend what happened, but Elide just gave her a pointed look and tried not to smile when Aelin whirled back to her conversation.

“Uh, excuse me,” she interrupted, only a little sorry as his brows raised and he stopped mid-sentence. She thanked the man, Sam, for his donation again and turned on her heel, grabbing a glass of champagne off a tray as she aimed for the balcony.

Aelin welcomed the warm breeze as she stepped into the night air. She could hear the cars zipping by below and the sounds of the city as the party faded with each step.

Rowan was leaning against the railing, resting his forearms on it, and holding a champagne glass in one hand. He seemed lost in thought, so she slowed her pace so she wouldn’t startle him. How bad would it be if a crystal glass was dropped from sixty stories up?

“Needed a breather?” She asked, coming to mirror his position next to him with her arms on the cool metal railing, raising a brow when he jerked at her voice.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat and sipped his drink. “Yeah, just for a minute.”

“It’s a lot, I know.” Aelin closed her eyes and listened to the sounds around her. “One of the many reasons why I can’t do this full-time.”

“You seemed awfully comfortable from where I was standing.” The words were bitter as they left his mouth.

Aelin’s head snapped around as her brows flew up only to see Rowan close his eyes and wince as if he hadn’t meant to say that. She blinked. If she had to guess, he sounded…jealous? The tips of his ears were turning red as he opened and closed his mouth, and Aelin figured he truly hadn’t meant to sound so possessive.

Maybe it was the champagne, but she decided she didn’t mind it.

Aelin tipped her head back and laughed.

“Believe me,” she told him, turning to face him as he cautiously waited for her response. “I’m much more comfortable right now.”

Aelin held his gaze, hoping he understood what she was trying to say.

Rowan exhaled slowly, the tension leaving his shoulders, and Aelin pursed her lips in amusement as she looked back over the city.

They stood in comfortable silence, both relieved to have a moment away from the party inside.

“So,” he mused.

She arched a brow but kept her eyes on the city. “So.”

“Fireheart?” he asked, and she felt him shift to look at her better which only served to lessen the distance between them.

“I was wondering if you caught that.” Huffing a laugh, Aelin nodded wryly. “She’s called me that since I was a kid. Her little fireheart.”

He chuckled and Aelin glanced sidelong at him, trying her best not to get distracted by the loose strands of hair blowing in the wind.

“It fits.” He murmured with a definitiveness that surprised her. The irrevocability of someone who sought a word that was at their fingertips yet unable to grasp it, finally gaining the clarity to do so.

When Aelin lifted her glass to finish her champagne, her shoulder brushed his and she realized how close they were to one another.

She glanced over again as a lock of her hair fluttered in the breeze, only to find Rowan already staring at her. Aelin couldn’t name exactly what she saw in his face but the intensity of it caused her breath to hitch.

The sounds of traffic and people and music faded away until all she could hear was her rapidly beating heart and the sharp breaths they both took in the minuscule space between them.

At that moment all she could focus on was the man next to her. Rowan. Her friend, her companion, her one-in-a-million chance encounter. She looked into his pine-green eyes and remembered all the times she’d wished she was in a moment like this one.

Time seemed to slow as she unconsciously leaned closer. Rowan’s eyes darted down to her parted lips as her tongue swiped across her lower one. Lifting his gaze, he caught hers in a magnetic grip. She didn’t dare say anything, afraid to break the fragile moment that was unfolding. She felt his short intake of breath, close enough to tickle her skin, and then she was closing her eyes.

“Has anyone seen my scarf?”

Aelin and Rowan sprang apart, startlingly jarred by the unexpected voice.

“Evangeline!” Aelin realized, recovering first, and furrowing her brows at the young girl’s obvious intoxication. She avoided Rowan’s stare burrowing into the side of her head and ignored the way her cheeks were heating up. She cleared her throat. “Scarf. Your scarf is around your shoulders. You’re enjoying the party, I see.”

“Oh,” The girl giggled and touched the light green pashmina she wore. “Found it.”

Despite Aelin’s embarrassment, she chuckled at the grinning college freshman. “First time having this much complimentary champagne?”

Evangeline seemed to think about it before nodding. “Yeah. Most of the parties I go to just have cheap beer.” She leaned against the stone wall and almost slipped when her shoulder missed the edge.

Aelin wrapped an arm around her waist. “Okay, let’s go find Lysandra.” When she knew her friend’s adopted sister wouldn’t fall on her face, Aelin half-turned to Rowan and, without meeting his eyes, stammered, “I’ve, uh, gotta help with this, her.”

Then she hurried back into the party.

***

Fuck.

What the hell just happened?

Rowan's head was spinning.

He almost kissed Aelin. He and Aelin almost kissed. Better yet, Aelin almost kissed him.

The grin he hadn’t realized he wore dropped when the moment caught up to him and he watched Aelin stumble over an excuse and flea before they could finish what they’d started.

Did she regret it? Was she only caught up in the moment and now they’ll have to live with that awkwardness?

Fuck.

No. Rowan wasn’t going to let this go—let her go.

He downed the rest of his champagne and turned on his heel to head back into the party and find Aelin.

The ringing of his phone jerked him to a stop, momentarily confusing him. He glanced back into the brightly lit room and groaned before pulling out his cellphone and frowning when Lorcan’s name flashed across the screen.

The crease between his brows deepened when he realized it had to be passed three in the morning in Dublin.

“What?” he wanted to cut straight to the point so he could hang up and talk to Aelin.

Lorcan’s grunt greeted him. “Whitethorn. We’ve got a situation and don’t get fucking pissed at me, this is coming from higher up.”

Agitation immediately filled him at the tone of his friend’s voice. The only person outranking Lorcan in their division was the Editor-in-Chief, Maeve herself. “What, Lorcan? I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

“Yeah? So was I. My sleep's fucked. I got a call an hour ago that one of the asshole editors quit, no warning, and in a dick move deleted half of the spreads we need for next week’s publication.” He sighed over the speaker and Rowan closed his eyes, dreading the overtime he knew he’d have to put in when he got back.

Lorcan went on, “Maeve wants everyone working to fix it so we aren’t delayed. You’re on a flight back to Dublin asap.”

“I took a week off, she can’t go without my help for three more days? I don’t even write the articles.” Rowan let out a harsh laugh and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Fuck, fine, I’ll find a flight tomorrow.”

“No. I mean, you’re booked on a flight that’s leaving at one-thirty, your time, from JFK. There’s a car on its way to pick you up.”

Rowan said nothing as a ringing filled his ears.

“What? That’s ridiculous. She can’t do that” He seethed. “And how the fuck do you know where I am?”

“If you want to keep your godsdamned job, you’ll be on that flight. And your phone’s location is on, dumbass.” Lorcan cursed and yelled at someone on his end of the line. “Look, I don’t like this any more than you do, but it’s out of my hands.”

Rowan hung up.

“Fuck!” he hissed and carded a furious hand through his hair.

That was it. He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t stay under Maeve’s thumb; she used every bit of power she held over her employees and exploited their need to keep their job.

His shoulders slumped in resignation. Because it was true for him. He couldn’t just quit. Not now. Coast to Cadre was nowhere near ready to support him enough for him to lose his job.

He would quit. Rowan had never been more sure of that, this godsdamned summoning being the final nail in the coffin.

But right now, he had to leave.

“Fuck,” he breathed, drawing out the expletive again as he squeezed his eyes shut and dragged a hand down his face, pocketing his phone.

Rowan took one more breath and willed his temper to abate as he walked back into the party. The hum of chatter and music immediately drowned out the sound of the city below them.

His eyes scanned the room and zeroed in on Aelin. Instead of finding her with Lysandra like he thought he would, she was standing next to a man with coiffed black hair, smiling widely and leaning into his arm and they talked.

Was that it? Was she so unsettled by what happened between them that she immediately latched onto someone else? Somewhere, deep in his brain, he knew logically that wasn’t true—that wasn’t Aelin.

But he wasn’t thinking logically right now.

Rowan caught her eyes and clenched his jaw hard as her smile faltered. He made a beeline for the elevators, ignoring the scathing looks as he pushed through the crowd, and took one down to the lobby before Aelin could follow.

Unfortunately, he got caught in the people trying to go up and past the security guards, that another elevator dinged behind him and a voice he would always know, called out.

“Would you slow down for one second?” She huffed, near-jogging in her heels as she sped to keep up with him.

Rowan didn’t stop until he’d swung through the revolving door of the front lobby. He didn’t have to hear the click of her shoes on the pavement to know she hadn’t let him walk away without an explanation. “I have to go,” he gritted out.

She gripped his arm, forcing him to look at her. Strands of Aelin’s blonde hair blew around her face in the breeze. She waited until he gave her his full attention. “I see that.” She hissed, exasperated. “Why? And were you seriously going to walk out without saying goodbye? Without a word after what just happened up there?”

He jerked his arm out from beneath her hand. He missed the warmth of her touch almost immediately, but unfortunately, all his frustration and jealousy that had been simmering won out. “You don’t have to play pretend with me. My car will be here any minute and you can go back upstairs and finish your schmoozing.”

Aelin crossed her arms as her brows shot up and looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “Pretend?” she scoffed. “Seriously, what the fuck is your problem. And, you still haven’t told me why you’re practically sprinting out of here.”

Rowan took a deep breath, trying to settle his temper before he said something he would regret. In a calmer voice, he explained, “I just got a call from my boss. One of our head editors went and quit without explanation, and the next issue of the magazine is set to go to publication this week. She needs all hands on deck, so I now have a ticket on the next flight to Dublin, which leaves in,” he twisted his wrist to look at his watch, ignoring the way Aelin’s expression grew dubious. “Two and half hours. There’s a car on its way to bring me to the airport. I don’t have time to backtrack through the city, I need to get through security and passport control, so if you could ship my things, I can pay you back however much it costs—”

Not for the first time, he was grateful he’d chosen to bring his passport.

“Let me get this straight,” she cut him off hotly and paced a few steps, unable to stay still. “Your boss calls you and demands you go back to work at nearly midnight on a Saturday, fly across the Atlantic on a flight leaving so soon that you don’t even have time to collect your things, and you agree to that at the drop of a hat?” her voice rose with every word before finally stepping closer to him and hissing, “And without so much as a goodbye?”

He couldn’t take it. Her frustration, her anger, her disappointment. He was upset, and her concerns were too much. Rowan snapped, his emotions fueling his words before he could stop himself. “I don’t have a choice—it’s my job, Aelin. You know, the thing that most people have so they can afford to live and eat and pay their bills.”

She scoffed loudly and narrowed her eyes at him, looking like she wanted to bite back at him. “Rowan, you know—"

But all the fight left him as soon as the words came out, and he loosed a long, heavy sigh. He felt tired—defeated. When he caught her stare again, she faltered, some of her anger dissipating as she took in his slumped shoulders and crestfallen face.

“I’m sorry,” he told her, trying to convey his regret and apology, encouraged by the fact that she didn’t pull her hand away when he gently took it in his. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you; you don’t deserve that. I’m not angry with you, it’s my boss, it’s this job, it’s this fucking situation—”

He stopped himself before he got too far off track and started again. He still couldn’t figure out what she was thinking but at least now she didn’t look like she wanted to kick him in the balls. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to leave, but I have to. And I’m sorry for trying to leave without saying goodbye. That wasn’t cool.”

“That was a dick move.” She corrected, a perfectly sculpted brow arched, and Rowan felt his lips twitch up. Both at his overwhelming relief that she was still listening to him, and at her using the same phrase Lorcan used earlier. He doubted either of them would like to know that.

Rowan nodded, interlacing their fingers and stepping closer. “A dick move, you’re right.”

Aelin stared at him for a long moment, trying to garner his level of sincerity. He squeezed her fingers in another silent apology and she looked down at their hands, rubbing her thumb over the back of his knuckle. He held back a shiver.

“Okay,” she said finally, looking back up at him. “When is the car supposed to get here?”

Rowan felt a weight lift off his shoulders, he hadn’t realized just how much he needed her to understand. “Any minute.”

The breeze picked up and Aelin crossed her arms to brace against the dip in temperature. As if on cue, a pair of headlights turned the corner, spotlighting them as the car pulled to a stop. Rowan wanted to say something else, tell her that he wanted nothing more than to say no, I won’t be flying overseas tonight. But he couldn’t.

There, engulfed in the bright light that blocked out the rest of the city, Aelin held his gaze and stepped towards him, searching his face until she found what she was looking for. Rowan held his breath as she rested her hands on his biceps and leaned forward to press her lips to his.

He was frozen for a split second, stunned by the feeling of her body pressed against his own. But then he rested his hands on her hips and pulled her closer, kissing her fiercely and trying to convey the feelings that had been mounting for two years. He was consumed by the feel of her, by the smell of her perfume, by her.

She slowly pulled away.

Rowan blinked. He was afraid the last few seconds were a figment of his imagination until he heard Aelin’s ragged breathing. Her eyes darted over his face and a small smile appeared as she took in his dazed expression.

“Have a nice flight, Rowan.” She whispered above the wind. Then she turned on her heel and walked back inside.

His brain finally caught up, and for the second time that night when all he wanted to do was chase after Aelin, he was interrupted. This time, by the loud blaring of a car horn that tore his attention from the retreating blonde and towards the car waiting to take him to the airport.

He opened the door but swung around and called back, just before she walked back into the building, “I’ll call you when I land!”

She paused and Rowan felt like his heart was beating out of his chest. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu as he waited to get into a car driving him to the airport, waiting on what she would say next.

Aelin turned, her eyes connecting with his as a smile blossomed on her face. Rowan felt his mouth curving up in time with hers.

“You better.” She called back in challenge.

His grin grew impossibly wider as he got into the car. Despite the mess he was walking into back home, Rowan felt like he could take on the world.

***

Part 8

*****

Taglist:

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#rowaelin #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #aelin and rowan #rowan and aelin #rowaelin fic #rowaelin fluff #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass #tog #awa #a world away #world travelers #new your city #lysandra ennar #aedion ashryver #elide lochan

[thefanficmonster]

Love For The Faceless

Corpse Husband x Youtuber!Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff 

Summary: Y/N is a YouTube gamer who has recently gained a much larger following thanks to the streams she does with her friends. Naturally, considering her faceless and bodiless nature, people are starting to get curious about her. When she finally follows her friend Corpse’s example, a lot more than her hands is revealed.

Requested by anon, you know who you are 😉 Thank you so much for placing a request and hope this fic fulfills the expectations you have for it.

“Hey!“ I greet the lobby as I finally hop into the Discord call after quickly saying ‘hi‘ to my audience.

I’ve been a YouTuber for four years now and I’ve only recently started streaming, encouraged to do so by my best friend Rae. She’s the one who got me in multiplayer games such as Among Us and Phasmophobia which led me to meet her amazing gaming squad that consists of some of the most famous names on the platform. They are all wonderful people and I will forever be in Rae’s debt for introducing me to them. However, becoming friends with Felix, Sean and the rest of the team brought not only a more fulfilled life, but also a small boost in following. Who am I kidding, it wasn’t small. It was overwhelming, terrifying even.

My YouTube channel had a little over a million subscribers at the start of quarantine and now....now it’s closer to three million. Speaking of three million, I’m about to reach it any day now and it’s really hard to believe. I’m a gaming youtuber and I’ve never considered changing my genre despite expecting to not get any attention whatsoever, with all the big names on the platform. I was convinced not even as many as a hundred people would stumble across my videos and now here we are.

My OG subscribers are very supportive of my sudden growth and are defending me when my newer fans ask for a face reveal or whatnot. While we’re on that topic I might have to mention that not even my YouTube friends, and that includes Rae have seen my face. I’ve been faceless and bodiless for the entirety of my time on social media. Some claim I do it to grab more attention or for dramatic effect, but the reason is beyond that. I’m not shallow. Actually, shallow people are the reason I don’t show my face. I’ve never been the prettiest, but my middle school bully thought that I wasn’t lacking self confidence enough. As a result, I ended up with a not so handsome scar on my right cheek that starts from the corner of my mouth and nearly misses my eye. Yeah, it’s a long and pretty noticeable scar that has thankfully become less and less obvious as the years have progressed. Still, it’s not something I’d like to show to my viewers.

Eight ‘hi’s greet me back, each making my smile grow wider. “Sorry I’m late guys. Technical difficulties.” 

“Don’t worry.“ Rae’s voice dominates over the rest, “Corpse still isn’t here so we’re waiting for him.“

I mute myself on the Discord call and take a look at my comments. I’m most flattered by the comments about my voice. Seeing as how they don’t have much to compliment about me other than my content, they make the nicest comments about my voice, personality and humor. Those comments are the ones who warm my heart most. Even when people in my day to day life compliment my appearance I can’t find it in me to believe they are being genuine. I’d like to believe these amazing people are being one hundred percent honest when they tell me they like me for who I am and not for what I might look like.

“Sorry I’m late guys.“ A deep voice causes me to even physically jolt, switching my focus from the comments to the Among Us lobby where my eyes land on the newly materialized black avatar.

“Hi Corpse.“ Rae greets him.

“Hello mister who broke Twitter!“ Sean laughs, provoking the laughter of the rest of the players.

“Yeah, congratulations man. That’s a big deal.“ Felix chimes in.

“Thanks guys, but I think you’re forgetting we’re talking about a picture of my hand.“ Corpse chuckles timidly. I have noticed how shy he gets when someone gives him a compliment - like a snail slowly withdrawing in its shell. I find it adorable.

“That’s what makes it even better!“ I unmute my mic, sending my own congratulations.

“While we’re on that topic...“ Rae begins, waiting for the rest of us to shut our traps, suggesting she has something important to say. “Y/N, do you ever plan on doing a reveal like that? Not a face reveal. Just a body part reveal.“

I have no problem talking about the subject with friends but I get nervous when I’m supposed to discuss it with my fans. Seeing as how everyone, including myself, is streaming right now, I get a bit of a stutter in my speech. “Haven’t thought about it yet. But I guess a body part reveal is harmless.” I cringe immediately after letting the words leave my mouth, “That sounds so weird.”

Rae knows that I’m not too fond of my face, but I haven’t told her about my scar yet. I let almost all people I’ve met online think I’m using my lack of appearance for effect. For the mystery of it all. Mysteries attract people which equals attention. Attention equals views and the domino effect continues.

“Just a suggestion. No pressure.“ Rae adds quickly, knowing full well I get anxious when the subject is brought up in front of cameras. “Let’s get this game started, shall we.”

                                                          * * *

The idea dwells in my mind, sitting on the back burner even after I disconnect from the Discord call. I’m sitting in my gaming chair, which was a gift for my two million milestone, and weighing out the pros and cons of the action Rae suggested I take.

“It’s a picture of your fucking hand, dummy. How bad can it turn out?“ I say out loud, shaking my head at my indecisiveness. “You’ll be fine.”

In a blur, two pictures are already posted on my Instagram. The first one captioned ‘Took a leaf from my friend’s book. Did I do it right @ corpsehusband?’ and the second ‘Thanks, Rae. These are on you.’

Rae’s POV

As I’m watching a movie in my living room, I get a notification from Instagram, informing me that Y/N has posted for the first time in a while.

I scoff, “More like the first time in forever.”

The first thing that comes to my mind is the possibility of her reaching that three million milestone that’s been long time coming. I bring the glass of water that’s sitting on my coffee table to my lips, taking a sip as I tap the notification. The picture I see makes me hurry to put the glass back down so I don’t drop it. Y/N’s hand. Her fingers are covered with several thin rings each. And here I thought Corpse had too many rings, this girl has at least two on every finger! 

Then my eyes land on the second picture she has posted only minutes after the first and my heart drops. I struggle to get the water that’s been sitting in my moth down my esophagus while my mind is struggling with the task to comprehend the picture I’m looking at. 

Another hand is resting on top of Y/N’s. A hand also covered in rings but fewer and larger. The nails are painted black. 

I think I know who it belongs to.

Before I can even finish the thought, I’m dialing Y/N. She picks up after the second ring, sound cheery as ever as she greets me. “Hey Rae!”

“Don’t you ‘Hey Rae’ me!” I practically scream. I hate being kept in the dark about anything ever so this is just driving me mad. On top of all, she’s my best friend, for fuck’s sake. “Is that Corpse in the photo with you?!”

“Ugh....“ the cheeriness to her voice is all but gone now.

I go on with my rant, not giving her the time to reply. Not that she would reply. I bet she doesn’t know what to say. “So he knows where you live?! Or was the picture taken at his place?! He knows what you look like?! You have seen him! He has seen you in real life but me, your best friend, haven’t!!! You are breaking Covid 19 protection laws to take pictures?! Are you fucking serious, Y/N?!”

There’s a long moment of silence which frustrates me even more but I literally have run out of things to yell and the power to be angry. I mean, I still am, I just can’t express it.

“Rae, sweetheart, please calm down. You’re scary when you’re mad.“ This girl has some fucking nerve! She’s on the verge of laughing!

“Listen here you...“ 

“Rae, please stop scaring my girlfriend.“ That oh so distinguishable, oh so familiar voice interrupts me.

I am flabbergasted, for a lack of a better term.

“Now that we’ve got you quiet, I can explain.“ Y/N pics up the conversation, “Corpse and I have been dating for six, almost seven months now. We started dating around Easter after talking for quite some time. We moved in together at the end of September. All thanks to you, Rae. You’re the best.” She pauses to breathe in real quick, “There, all caught up?“

I’m in no less shock than I was before she explained. Actually, I think I might be even more confused now. It all just feels like a fever dream. “Yes...no. I don’t fucking know! I need details, Y/N!”

“Details later.“ Corpse makes his presence known once again, “We’re watching Family Guy right now. Talk to you later.“

“Love you, Rae!“ Y/N calls out before the line goes dead.

My arm goes limp, dropping my phone on the couch next to me. 

“Motherfuckers” I mumble under my breath.

Y/N’s POV

It’s been a week since Rae has stopped talking to both Corpse and me. I know she just needs some time to cool off. In the meantime, the rest of our friends were informed and, as oppose to Rae, were nothing but supportive and overjoyed. I bet Rae feels the same way though. Sean, Dave and the rest of the gang have confirmed that she’s incredibly happy for us and says she noticed a spark between me and him since day one, but she can’t help but be mad at us, and especially me, for not telling her sooner.

“Any regrets?“ I remember Corpse asking me when we hung up on her after dropping the bomb.

“Not being able to see her face when she saw the picture.“ I beam at him, feeling as content as ever.

He laughs, agreeing with me before leaning down to kiss me.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios

#corpse #corpse husband #corpsehusband #husband #corpse husband fanfic #corpse simp #corpse husband fanficiton #corpse fanfiction #corpse fanfic #corpse x reader #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband x reader #x reader #reader #request #requests open

[adora-but-ginger]

Holy Ground-Ch.5

Warnings: Swearing, Slow burn (?), hmm let’s see there’s a couple fight scenes that include knives, swearing, Foggy absolutely killing it in court, alcohol, angst i think, not beta read, and minor anxiety. 

Pairings: Matt Murdock x French! Avenger! reader

Word Count: ~4.5k

Chapter: 5/?

Read chapter four here

Read chapter six here

Holy Ground masterlist found here

A/N: My first Matt fic! I got inspo from @cressidaclearwood ‘s series, so definitely go check that one out too. Please do not repost my work. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know!

ooh boy when i tell you i have not has access to tumblr on my laptop due to internet outages all week. also because dd is leaving netflix i’ve been bingeing the shite out of it, and i’m projecting my frustration at s2 and defenders Matt into this-we’re gonna start season 3 ~tomorrow~. i’m really liking where this is going though, and i have some angst prepared for the future ;). once again posting this bad boy at 3am, so as per usual i’m clocking out for the night the moment i hit post.~L

translations will be at the end of each chapter

(credit to gif owner)

She had told Karen that she was leaving for a walk, and while she was received with a mixture of ‘it’s not safe, you’ll get hurt’ and ‘will you actually be going for a walk?’, she left anyway. She used the go-to ‘I used to be an avenger, I’ll take care of anyone who looks at me wrong’ retort, but Karen wouldn’t budge. She had stricken the ‘you’re technically on house arrest’ card, so the latter had to relent, and with a roll of her eyes Y/N agreed to stay.

Until Karen fell asleep.

Once Y/n had realized her roommate was zonked out, she threw a hoodie on along with some gloves (to accommodate the slightly chilly weather), and slid out the window. She hadn’t fought much in Hell’s Kitchen, having lived there only long enough to learn most of the layout, but not too long to make herself known. And while she knew she shouldn’t have left, she had to let off some steam one way or another.

Her mind had been racing ever since the trial took off, and while they were going at it with a strong defense, a gut feeling had started to brew in her about what the outcome would look like.

To put it mildly, she didn’t think the odds were necessarily in her favour.

So, with her head on constant over drive, she did what she could do best-run. At first, she did a few laps around five or so blocks to just bask in the familiarity, but when she accidentally stumbled upon a mugging the night before, an idea seeped into her brain. An idea that could possibly throw the whole case away as well as any chance of freedom. An idea that had any of her newly welcomed friend(s?) and acquaintances found out, would result in no positive conversation.

She was going to ride the vigilante high.

The vigilante high was what they called ‘big wins for the little guys’ back at Stark’s tower. She had heard of a couple vigilantes that circled around areas in New York, one in Brooklyn, one that she actually met from Queens (he was a nice kid, too, and she had been furious to learn that Stark brought a teenager into this), and one in Hell’s Kitchen.

They called him ‘the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen’, and no one could really tell his intentions. He seemed, like any vigilante, to live by a strict set of his own morals, and sought them through to fit. She wasn’t too different from him. I mean, she fit all three metaphorical vigilante check boxes.

Box one: she had questionable morals, check.

Box two: she had an ability or power of sort, check.

Box three: she had an outfit to keep her in the shadows, well sort of check.

That was like a two point seven five out of three, so she rounded up. Snapping out of momentary daze, she focused back in on the mugging taking place. She felt a mix of heavy footprints nearby alongside a smaller, gentler pair. Locating where they were, she arrived to the scene in under a moment and took a look at what she had going against her. One man had a middle aged person pressed tightly against the wall, knife to throat, threatening them for their purse. The man had the knife up close to their skin, meaning he needed to be disarmed before being taken down. Inhaling, she backed up a few paces, almost in a springing motion, before launching herself forward towards him.

James always referred to this move as her ‘charge up’. He had hated when she did this, because anytime she did this move outside of work it was usually to mess with him. As her pace quickened launching forward, everything around her slowed. She seemed to move normally as the world around her shifted to her needs, putting everything surrounding her in a near frozen state. She compared it to someone moving through honey, only the honey had its consistency tripled and replaced the space of air. That being said, she had missed the familiar feeling. She reached the man, taking him and moving him away from the person he was threatening. She moved him to the other side of the alley, and then proceeded to reposition the knife to face his abdomen. The plunge shouldn’t kill him, but it would leave a reminder as to what would happen if he were to mug someone again. She moved to the mugging victim, doing a once over to make sure they were not physically hurt. Moving them to the side walk, she zipped to the shadows of the alley, and allowed time to catch up with her.

When her present matched that of reality once more, her ears were met with a yelp of pain. Her eyes switched to the sidewalk, where she saw the person look over their features, look at the man, and bolt. Turning to the man, she saw him looking down at his new wound, to which he was growing pale. Without taking a second glance, she sped away, to the rooftops of Hell’s Kitchen.

She wasn’t as ‘morally good’ as Steve or Sam, she knew that. If either of them had witnessed her little stunt, they would’ve gone on and on about the ‘value of learning from mistakes’ and ‘using her powers for true good’. But in her eyes, he would definitely learn from this mistake.

~~

A half an hour had passed before she felt any more disturbances. She had been hopping rooftops when an abundance of pressure that only people could make became known within a closed down parking garage. No one should be there that late at night, especially not so many people in one relative spot.

Zipping to a rafter a few floors above, she decided to climb down to their level as normally and quietly as possible. If she didn’t draw attention by running to the rafter positioned just slightly out of their perception, then the movement of air appearing as she slowed down definitely would. Taking that into account, she carefully made her way to a metal beam perched far enough away to not be seen, but close enough to hear.

She counted at least four voices. A woman, elderly by the tone of her words, an older man in his 50’s? 60’s? An uptight, precise voice presenting as the youngest of the bunch (maybe 30’s?), and a deep, booming voice. The last one belonged to someone who knew they had power. A business man, most likely, one who covered their acts of blood with a cloak of civility. She couldn’t act right away, for while she had the element of surprise at hand, she was sure these folks were hiding something up their sleeve. She had to wait for them to get separated, for one to branch from the bunch.

Luckily, she didn’t have to wait long. While they were smart to not all leave at the same time, they weren’t smart enough to have defense at the ready. She took her chance when the older man was the last to round his car. Jumping down and speeding to him, she had him pushed against said car in no time.

If she had spoken outright, her identity would be revealed in no time. With a split second decision she masked herself with the best American accent she could muster. It wasn’t a great accent per se, but she had been copying Steve, Natasha, and James for years to make it passable.

“Sorry to ruin the end of your little play-date, but care to tell me what you all were discussing?”

She was received with him spitting towards towards her.

“Okay first off, rude. Second, I’m not into that. Answer my question.”

“Go to hell.”

“Where do you think we are?” The unsheathing of a knife prevented her from her next sentence as he took a swing towards her, one that she dodged out the way with no problems at all. It was like a dance, a battle of choreography between the two. While one held a knife, he was not truly leading the dance, no, she had taken that into her own hands. 

The dodging and swinging had continued to no avail over a few consecutive minutes, with just near misses and hearty swings being thrown back and forth. And maybe her lack of power usage was rooted in pride, or just proving to herself that she was still in the game, but either way she, in a weird, twisted way, was entertained by it all. 

The dance was suddenly interrupted though by the harsh breathing of a new competitor. His breathing detailed anger and a little surprise, and she could tell that he was not expecting another guest at this rendezvous. 

“Who are you and what are you doing here.” He spoke with voice like gravel, a rasp deep enough it was almost forced. 

“I’m kind of-” stopping the attackers arm, she threw a blow to his gut. “-in the middle of something here.” The attacker rebounded from the blow quickly, throwing one back in her direction. “Are you-are you just going to stand there, or-,” another graceful move, she grabbed his swinging arms and rotated both of them so that she was behind him, straining his arms backwards.

The new contender titled his head, noticing a sort of familiarity. Not thinking about the action, she drew her knee up to connect with the man in her grasp’s groin once, and then once more. As she went to deliver the third blow he kicked backwards and flipped the both of them onto the ground. She heard the clang of the metal weapon, followed by the feeling of harsh stone upon her head, s feeling which she knew was not going to feel good come the morning. Her vision had slightly blurred, but when she turned her head, she could briefly make the outline of the man in black. Groaning, she shouted towards him.

“Help for God’s sake!”

This seemed to snap him into action, because as soon as the words had left her mouth he had picked up the guy and slammed him into the the same car. 

“Who do you work for.” He seethed, repeating his previous action when the answer spoken was not of his liking. “Who’s your employer?” His fist met the man’s face the second time around. 

Slowly feeling her senses returning, she put on hand on her head and the other on the ground to steady herself as she stood up. It took her a second to find her bearings, marching over to the two once she was good. 

“Okay, you’ve done enough, this one’s mine, find your own.” She grabbed the man in black and made an attempt to remove him, though it ended in vain. 

“Excuse me?” 

“There were other’s here, go chase them or something. I was dealing with this one just fine.” He turned towards her in what seemed like a sense of awe, then back to the man pressed against the car. 

“Not any more, I got him.” 

Baffled, she took a moment to evaluate her situation. She could either let this dude handle her situation, or she could pry him off of the criminal with her cold dead hands. She didn’t like it when people took things from under her nose. Especially cocky men. 

She decided on the latter. 

Using a miniature boost of speed to aid her, she quickly removed the man in black, along with his grasp on the attacker. Hearing him crash onto the ground, she looked back towards the other one remaining and, with frustration and irritation flowing through her veins, slammed his head against the outside of the car in a harsh manner. 

“Your boss, now.” 

A wicked grin appeared on his face, and he made a painful head nod towards the man in black, who she caught had stood back up. “It seems,” he coughed up a little blood. “You two want the same thing.” Before she could respond, she felt hands on her shoulders, ripping her from the man once more in her grasp. Turning into the pull, she released her grip on the criminal and shoved at the man now before her. 

“Back the hell up, man.” She had slipped up a little on the American accent that time around, and at this she caught his head quirk slightly. She had to speak again before he could think too much into it. “I can take care of this guy by myself.” 

A sour chuckle escaped the man’s lips, a matching smirk appearing alongside it. “Oh I’m sure you can, but I need this guy more than you do right now. I won’t ask again, move.” 

Once more taken aback, she took a receding footstep. 

“Make me.” 

With a grunt of frustration, he reached for her shoulders once more, but in a small movement she made a speedy side-step, countering with her arms reaching for his. This stunned him for a moment, realizing that what she just did was not of the typical human skill set. She took this to her advantage and latched onto his arms, grabbing them and twisting in order to prepare a stance to flip him. He must have returned to reality sooner than he let on though, as he moved in an opposite way, releasing himself from her. He swung at her legs with his own, catching her off guard and into the concrete once more, but before she hit the bottom she reached out to pull him down with her. He quickly grabbed onto her and positioned himself to be hovering atop, breathing heavily as he did so. 

“This is my city, so I get to know who’s new in town.” 

She shifted her body to roll him to the right, switching their roles, her now above him. “I don’t give a damn about what you ‘get to know’.” Taking a few gulps of air, she continued. “You can’t just walk in and butt in on my fight. Not your battle.” If she was annoyed now, it increased tenfold after she looked over his covered face, because waiting for her to see was a sly smirk. 

“I’ve been tracking this battle long before you showed up. Speaking of which, he’s leaving right now.” 

Turning her head as she saw the running car speed away, she debated whether she wanted to follow. The man under her used this distraction and flipped them once more, making her cuss in response. “That brings me to my next question. Who are you and what are you doing in my city?”

~~

She hated the courtroom. The colour scheme alongside the rustic furniture had a dignified sense to it at first, but as she was sitting in the witness stand, with the public’s eyes all on her, she realized that she never wanted to be here again. Matt and Foggy convinced her that standing as a witness could only help more than it could harm, but it was scaring the shit out of her if she was being honest. She just wanted this to be over. 

The prosecutor stood up, walking over to grill her, and to say she was anxious was to put it mildly. It didn’t help that her head was still throbbing from the night prior, and her body was sore from the lack of practice. Her attention was grabbed as Reyes now stood before her like a lion scoping out its prey. 

“Ms. Y/l/n, is it true that you were present on the day that the fight in Germany broke out?”

She took a deep breath to steady her thoughts, then replied. “Yes.” 

“And is it true that you took the side of Captain Steve Rogers and the Winter Soldier?” 

She took a glance towards Foggy, Matt, and Karen, and though she didn’t get along very well with the first of the three, he nodded in reassurance towards her. Taking another breath, she looked back towards Reyes, this time maintaining eye contact. 

“Yes, I sided with Steve and James.” 

“Speaking of which, you call him by his first name, James. You two must have been relatively close for him to allow that, also being a trained assassin and all.”

“Objection of unfair prejudice your honour-” Matt spoke up. Reyes turned towards Matt, then back at the witness stand.

“Sustained, rephrase the question.” The judge announced towards Reyes. 

“Yes, your honour. Given your background, do you have a strong tie to James?”

“Don’t disrespect his name. I was close to him once, yes.” 

“I’m sure you can understand why we think you would have helped him out then.”

“I did help him, he was being targeted for a crime he did not commit, and I’m not going to turn my back on him even though some time has passed.” 

“Time has passed? Did you know about his situation when it came to the accords?”

“He was in hiding, I-” 

“Hiding? Can you elaborate on that?”

“No.” She was starting to minorly freak out. She was suited for fighting physical battles, not verbal ones.

Matt could feel her heartbeat spike. She was getting nervous by the severity of Reyes’ questions. Reyes proceeded to walk over to the Jury. 

“So she knew he was in hiding, and failed to mention that to anyone. Though he once was James Barnes, he’s still the Winter Soldier, and you’re telling me you allowed him to walk out and about like this? Are you aware how many people you put in danger?”

He could feel her shake her head, heartbeat pounding in her chest now. “He wasn’t putting anyone in danger, that’s not how HYDRA works, you’re putting words in my mouth.”

“I’m just trying to understand, Ms. Y/l/n. If he had been removed from the situation, would you have signed the accords?”

A brief silence filled the full courtroom.

“I’m sorry Ms. Reyes, are you insinuating something here?” He felt her beat change, her nerves starting to fade into anger. “Because it seems to me like you’re implying you know something about a plan to remove him?” She was turning Reyes’ own words on her. Smart, but she had to be careful.

“My apologies, Ms. Y/l/n. This is simply a hypothetical. Would you have signed the accords?” Reyes had walked back over to her. 

“Did you consider chewing a little gum before this? Because your breath reeks.” 

An uproar of responses ranging from laughing to shouting erupted after her comment. He had to admit it was hard not to break into a smirk, but he had to remain as stoic as possible. She had wit. 

Within seconds the judge was yelling to the masses. 

“Order, order!”

“If my signature ever appears on that sheet of paper, I can promise you it was not signed by my hand.” 

He could hear the jury members shuffle in their seats. She needed to tone it down otherwise she was going to cross a line she did not want to. 

“So are you saying that, given the chance to redo this whole situation, you would follow the same exact path?” 

“That’s exactly what I’m saying Madame. The second my colleagues scribbled their names on that paper, they had the agents knocking at their doorstep preventing them from helping people, and I don’t fly with that. I’ve done a lot of damage in my life, so now that I can help people on the everyday streets of New York, you’ll be damn sure I’ll do it on my own terms.”

When he was made known of Reyes, he was told that she was ruthless. She could spot flaws quicker than he could pick up on movements, which says a lot considering his night job. Y/n was holding up well, but he realized her mistake as soon as she said it, and Reyes did too. 

“Are you implying that you think of the people of New York as below you? You called them ‘everyday people’.” 

“What? No, that’s not-” she was cut off. 

“Then what do you mean by that phrase, Ms. Y/l/n?”

“I didn’t mean that. I...I-” she started fumbling her words. 

He needed to interfere before this got worse. “Your honour, I request a brief recess.” 

“No need, Mr. Murdock, I’m done. I think the jury can take what they want from this.” He could feel the shift from anger back to fear within her. 

“Defense, you may proceed.” 

Foggy stood up and smoothed over his suit, then walked over to the witness stand. If he could trust anyone to turn this situation back into their favour, it was Foggy Nelson. 

“Ms. Y/n, you have been under a severe amount of stress lately, is that correct? With Germany, then the raft, now this.” 

“Uhm, yes, Monsieur Nelson.” 

“That being said, when you made the decision to side with Mr. Barnes because he was not only a key part of your past, but also because you knew that there was no way you could choose the opposing side, even though they too were close to you, due to their morals?” He felt relief overtake her. 

“Oui, Monsieur.”

“And did you know that this document was going to be presented to you all, forcing you guys to split?”

“No, it was presented to us without little to knowledge on our behalf prior to it, and we had almost no time to think it over.” 

“Okay. Next, did you commit any crimes while at the airport?”

“Not that I’m aware of. I was fighting the entire time.” 

“So, you committed no crimes, and you did what you thought was right.” Foggy strode towards the Jury. “It seems to me that she’s not guilty of anything. She has also already payed the repercussions of Germany in the raft, which is a whole other conversation within itself, is it not?”

He could tell she nodded. 

“The defense rests, your honour.” Foggy returned to his seat with a small pride filled smile, and Matt heard Karen nudge him with a ‘good job.’

~~

Things were looking up for them. Two days later and they almost had the case in the bag. They were all currently in Nelson and Murdock accompanied by the usual Karen and Jimmy. Foggy had popped open a bottle of red for himself and Matt, comparing the bottle to some kind of eel drink at their local bar, Jimmy had a smile on his face (believe it or not, she thought she was growing on him), and was having a riveting conversation with Karen about some sort of card trick. Y/n sat there amidst them all, appreciating the little amount of normalcy she currently had. If her case was won, she would really like to stick around with these folks, if they’d let her of course. This was the closest she felt to people in quite awhile, and while her future would probably contain much more of the messiness she was used to, she savoured moments like these. Dare she say it, but she would even go as far to call these people her friends. Matt drew her out of her thoughts, slightly intoxicated, sitting down next to her. 

“I think that you worry too much.” 

She side-eyed him. “Pardon?”

“You’ve been put in so many high-stress situations that you’ve been conditioned to be in a constant state of fight or flight, but there’s no need. We’re good at what we do. You need to chill out a bit.” 

Was he being serious? “Matt, you’re not my therapist, I can handle my own. Thank you for the concern though?” What was the point of him saying this to her?

“I mean no offense, I do the same. Maybe it’s the wine, but I just wanted to tell you what I read from you.” He took a sip of the red. “Once you’re free, you should go do something for yourself. Read some books, get a cat, the like.” His voice, though clear, was a bit lighter than he usually spoke. 

“A cat would be nice.” She mumbled to herself. 

“I’ve always found them quite relaxing.” 

How had he heard that? She barely heard her herself. She looked at him, at his stubble, the way his glasses cast shadows onto his face. She wondered what colour his eyes were, and why he always wore the glasses, even when it was just the two of them. A few minutes passed without talk, a pleasant silence forming between the two of them. 

He must have had enough of that though, because next thing she knew he was leaning towards her ear. “Foggy’s warming up to you too, though he won’t admit it. I’ve known him long enough to know when he’s faking hate. Make it known that I don’t think you’re that bad either compared to our first impressions.”

With a smile on her face, she rolled her eyes. “Mon Dieu Matt, you’re intoxicated. But thank you.” 

“Do you know what time it is?” 

“Yeah, it’s-” she looked up at the clock. “Shit, it’s nearly midnight.” Raising her volume a little to grab the group’s attention, she continued. “Karen? We should head back.” 

“Oh, yeah, I’ll walk the boys home and meet you at the apartment. You know where the spare key is?”

She nodded her head. “Yeah, I know where it is. Today was a good day guys, I’ll see you tomorrow.” The group responded in a mixture of goodbye’s and goodnight’s as Jimmy stood up, bidding goodnight, and walked with her out of the office.

~~

As she shut the door to Karen’s apartment, she leaned her head against the door. Waiting to hear Jimmy walk down the stairs, she let her mind catch up with her thoughts now that she was alone. She was going to go back out tonight, to go see what more she could dig up on the parking garage group. Would the man in black appear again? Who even was that? 

Her eyes widened in realization. 

He was le diable. Le Diable de Hell’s Kitchen. 

It made sense. They both seemed to have the same goal, the Devil and her-to figure out what was truly happening there. Her thoughts were pulled from her as a knock rapped upon the wooden door. Had Karen forgotten the key? 

Turning the doorknob, she spoke before she looked up. “You need to start remembering your key mon amie.”

The voice that responded belonged to a woman, but not Karen. 

“Y/n?” 

Her eyes shot up to the woman’s in surprise. 

“Pepper? Pepper Pots?”

“Listen I know I’m the last person you expect to see right now, but I had to bring this to you, it’s for you. You know Tony, he’s stubborn as hell and when he saw your name on it, he refused to send it over.” 

She didn’t even have time to wonder how Pepper found her as an object in a manilla folder was pressed into her hands. 

“We’ve always been friends, Y/n, and I care about you. I thought you should have it.” 

“What is it?” She peered into the envelope to see a burner phone alongside a second, smaller envelope within. 

“It’s from Steve.”

Translations

madame-mrs. 

monsieur-mr.

pardon?-sorry?

mon dieu-my god

oui-yes

le diable (de)-the devil (of)

Taglist

@eliwinchester-barnes @enjoymyloves @mshannah @pariahsparadise @saramaple

#im a really good lawyer #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #marvel #fanfiction #fanfic #daredevil x reader #daredevil #slow burn #holy ground #karen page #foggy nelson #jimmy woo

[tickly-trashcan]

Seven Minutes {KazAether}

A/N: aahh yes it’s finally time for these two to be together in one of my fics LMAO this is technically a college au as well! couldn’t figure out how to put the idea in actual teyvat so yeah lmao. I hope everyone enjoys! :D (also don’t come for me with the image i literally spent like two minutes on it im LAZY)

Summary: Aether and Kazuha are stuck in the closet during a game of seven minutes in heaven. 

Word Count: 1.1k (under the cut)

“So…”

“Hmm…”

Aether and Kazuha sat in silence in the closet, where they could still hear the party raging outside. 

“I don’t hear any making out in there!” Kaeya’s voice boomed from outside, followed by a long trail of laughter from some of their other friends. Aether noticed Kazuha blush bright red from embarrassment in the dim lighting of the closet and sighed.

“We don’t have to if you don’t-”

“I want to! It’s just… I didn’t want to do it like this…” Kazuha mumbled, fiddling with his thumbs. Aether hummed, understanding what Kazuha meant, though he couldn’t help but blush at Kazuha’s directness.

The two had been pining over each other for the past few weeks, and it wasn’t like they weren’t obvious about it. It just so happened that a dorm party was being thrown that night, and the two of them had decided to come. 

They were playing seven minutes in heaven, picking out people by using a bottle and spinning it. Aether had volunteered to go first, and when it landed on Kazuha a loud ‘oooh!’ resounded from everyone before the two of them stood up to enter the closet.

Aether rubbed the back of his neck shyly, backing up suddenly when Kazuha leaned forward to kiss him.

“D-Do you not want to do this?” He asked, and Aether quickly shook his head.

“No I don’t... I mean - I do! I do want to kiss you, but maybe just… I don’t know.”

The two boys sat awkwardly. They both wanted to start something but just didn’t know how to initiate it. Aether thought of an idea and flushed, finally deciding to try something.

He took a deep breath and started making loud, smacking sounds with his mouth, surprising Kazuha. He heard the people outside the closet giggling and he felt even more embarrassed, but it was better than making him and Kazuha equally humiliated.

Kazuha snickered as well, quickly covering his mouth so as not to ruin the facade Aether was putting up. Aether grinned, stopping the sounds for a moment to lean over Kazuha.

“What, you think this is funny?”

“Yehes!” Kazuha giggled, trying to keep it down as Aether put his hand behind Kazuha’s head, smirking at him.

“Oh, I can give you something to laugh about.”

Kazuha looked at him confused for a moment, suddenly squeaking when Aether placed his hands on his sides and squeezed. Kazuha looked at him fearfully, shaking his head.

“Aether, don’t you dare-”

“Hey, we’ve got about six minutes left, might as well take advantage of it,” Aether teased, starting to dance his fingers up and down Kazuha’s sides, making the boy squirm and giggle. “But don’t laugh too hard, now, or else they’ll find out what we’re up to~”

Kazuha covered his mouth again, nodding as Aether gently tickled his ribs, making him wiggle as laughter started to escape his lips. Aether clicked his tongue, digging his fingers in a big more as Kazuha squeaked, snickering.

“Nuh uh uh, no giggling! I don’t care how cute it is, if you can’t hold it in I’ll make you,” Aether teased, Kazuha giggling even louder than before as Aether approached his upper ribs, Kazuha kicking his legs behind Aether slightly as he tried to fend off the sensations.

“Not thehehere! Aether, you knohohow I can’t not lahahaugh there!” Kazuha whined as Aether got dangerously close to his underarms. Aether hummed.

“Why? Are you too ticklish there? Let’s try it out and see,” Aether grinned, and they both suddenly heard a knock on the closet door.

“You guys have four minutes left, use it wisely,” came Albedo’s factual voice. Aether made another smacking noise then responded with a quick “okay!” before going back to teasing Kazuha.

He kept faking him out, going to his uppermost rib only to climb back down to his sides again. Kazuha whined through his laughter, still holding firmly over his mouth as Aether lightly pinched at his upper ribs again.

“Juhuhust tickle me thehehere already! Stop messing with mehehehe!”

“You want me to tickle you there? Okay!” Aether chirped playfully, shoving his hands under Kazuha’s arms as he squealed, throwing his head back and pulling his arms down. His laughter increased tenfold, unable to hold back as Aether scribbled under his arms. Aether tutted, feeling his own face heat up at Kazuha’s laughter. Though he could tell that if he kept laughing like that they’d likely get found out, so he had to stop it.

Aether did the only thing he could think of; he kissed Kazuha. Kazuha mumbled something through his laughter against his lips, but he didn’t pull away. He continued to giggle frantically, though it was muffled because of Aether’s kiss. It wasn’t the best kiss, mostly Aether shoving his lips on Kazuha’s, but neither of them minded.

Aether went down to Kazuha’s ribs and broke away to give him a chance to breathe, Kazuha still giggling though he managed to catch his breath. Aether chuckled at Kazuha, finding his frantic, high-pitched laugh quite cute.

“One minute!” 

Aether smirked. One minute left, and Aether planned on using it well. As Kazuha continued to giggle softly, his face flushed a lovely shade of pink, Aether collected his wrists in his hands. Kazuha squeaked excitedly, his grin widening as Aether held them above his head. 

“Can you last a minute?”

“You bet I cahan,” Kazuha said confidently, and Aether smiled.

“Good.”

Kazuha immediately began to tug on his arms and squeal when Aether lightly dragged his fingers down Kazuha’s bicep, then gently dug his fingers under his arms. Aether kissed Kazuha again to keep him quiet, but he couldn’t stop the influx of giggles that flooded the closet as he went after Kazuha. 

He switched between each underarm randomly, making Kazuha jerk every time and shriek. He heard the people outside chanting the final ten seconds, and he broke away from the kiss to give Kazuha a chance to breathe, squeezing his hips. Kazuha lurched forward, squirming and giggling as Aether hummed. 

As soon as they got to one, Aether pulled away and the closet doors swung open.

“Holy shit, Kazuha, you look wiped!”

Aether turned to Kazuha and felt his own face flush. Kazuha’s cheeks were a bright shade of pink in the lighting, his eyes slightly teary with a permanent grin on his face as he panted slightly.

“Aether, what did you do to him?” Gorou asked, crouching next to his friend hesitantly. Aether only shrugged, grinning.

“That’s a secret that stays in the closet,” Aether teased, and their friend booed. They quickly sat in the circle again, giving the bottle to Hu Tao who spun it immediately. Kazuha glanced at Aether, flashing him a soft smile. Aether smiled back. Maybe it wasn’t exactly what they had planned, but those seven minutes were easily some of the best.

#kazuha #aether #kazaether #tickle fic #genshin impact

[shemarmooresfedora]

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of gun violence (just references to what happened last chapter, nothing new), hospitals, one swear word

A/N at bottom

Masterlist

Chapter 22

You managed to make the nurse feel bad enough for you that she gave you lots of extra Jell-O.

“Happy birthday, dear Jo,” you and Spencer sang, “Happy birthday to you.”

“Blow out the invisible candle!” you encouraged her.

“I promise we will get you an even bigger cake than before soon,” Spencer kissed her head as she ate a spoonful of the green Jell-O.

“It’s okay, I like Jell-O,” Jo said, outreaching the spoon towards Spencer.

“Me too,” he smiled, taking the bite off the spoon.

Spencer’s phone rang and you saw it displaying Hotch’s name. Spencer grabbed the phone and stood and you nodded at him in acknowledgement.

“Hey, Hotch” Spencer said as he stepped out of the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

“Reid, is there any way you could get back to the BAU?” Hotch asked.

“I really don’t feel comfortable leaving my family until the unsub is caught,” Spencer stated, watching you feed Jo another cup of Jell-O through the window.

“Not even if we sent two guards over,” Hotch asked.

“No sorry, I’m not leaving them. Can you fill me in over the phone?” Spencer responded.

“Yes, of course. I’m going to have Garcia call the hospital and fax some documents over to you so you can look them over. I’m setting you up on speaker in the conference room now,” Hotch stated.

“How’s everyone over there?” JJ asked.

“As good as can be expected. Y/N is sitting up now and she says her discomfort is minimal. And Jo seems to be enjoying the vast supply of Jell-O here. Oh also, Y/N and I are engaged,” he added.

“WHAT? Boy Wonder, you can’t keep springing huge news on us like it isn’t a big deal. You’re getting married!” Penelope squealed.

“Yes, I am,” Spencer smiled.

“Dr. and Mrs. Pretty Boy,” Derek grinned.

Everyone else gave their congratulations before getting to work.

“This unsub obviously has a vengeance against specifically Reid because we were all there and they only aimed for Reid’s family, probably because they knew it would inflict the most pain for him,” Emily stated.

“Garcia, search all past cases in which Reid was the primary on the takedown,” Hotch said.

“Sir, he was at the bureau for nearly seven years. There’s still hundreds,” Garcia replied.

“Garcia, filter out anyone who is still in prison. Focus on unsubs that have been recently released or escaped,” Spencer said.

Spencer heard Penelope clicking away at her keyboard through the phone.

“There’s no one you have put away that has escaped or been released in the past six months.”

“An unsub that has this much rage against Reid would have taken action before then,” Derek countered.

“Get a list of everyone I had to kill and focus on their friends and family. Maybe an anniversary is coming up that triggered them” Spencer spoke softly.

“Got it. We’ll update you later. Tell Y/N we all are sending our best,” Hotch said.

“And a muffin basket!” Penelope added.

-

Spencer was curled up on the tiny hospital bed with Jo and Y/N who were both napping when his phone rang.

“Do you remember the L.D.S.K. in Des Plaines, Illinois about 5 years ago?” Hotch asked.

“Yes, Phillip Dowd. He was an E.R. nurse taking shifts at multiple hospitals and wanted to save the people he shot to look good,” Spencer spoke softly.

“This unsub is exhibiting the same M.O. and you were the one who shot him in the hostage

situation. So, I had Garcia look up his relatives. He has a younger brother, Damon, who served in the army as well but was just recently dishonorably discharged after a long mission. That explains why he would target you now.”

“Of course. How did I not see this?” Spencer rubbed his eyes out of frustration.

“Your girlfriend, or should I say fiancée, was just shot. I think you have the right to not be exactly clear-headed right now,” Hotch assured him.

“Is he in custody?” Spencer asked, watching you start to stir next to him.

“Yes but he wants you to take his confession.”

“I’ll be there soon,” Spencer sighed and hung up.

“Who was that?” you whispered.

“They got the guy but I have to take his confession,” Spencer whispered back.

“Why?”

Spencer looked you in the eyes guiltily. He had to tell you that he was responsible for you getting shot. He was the one that the unsub was angry at.

“It’s all my fault,” he whispered, a tear rolling down his cheek, “It’s the brother of an unsub I had to kill five years ago.”

“Love,” you wiped the tear off his cheek with your thumb, “you were not holding the gun pointed at me. This was not your fault. You were only doing what was right during that case,” you spoke softly but in a serious tone, “I need you to say it for me, please.”

“This...was not my fault,” Spencer sniffled.

“Good,” you gave him a kiss, “now go get the bad guy’s confession and then come back to us.”

-

Spencer entered the slightly chilly interrogation room with a file in his hand.

“Dr. Spencer Reid,” Damon smirked.

“Why did you do it?” Spencer asked flatly, taking a seat across from him.

“Try to kill your family at your daughter’s birthday party? Eye for an eye, Doctor,” he replied.

“Why wouldn’t you shoot me though? I’m the one you have a problem with,” Spencer asked, already knowing the answer.

“You’ve been shot before. That’s nothing new. Even if you died, your pain would be relatively minimal compared to watching a loved one bleed out in front of you knowing that you were the cause.”

Spencer’s mind flashed back to earlier when you made him state out loud that he was not responsible for any of this.

“This was your fault, not mine,” Spencer spoke firmly.

“Too bad, I’m not as good of a sniper as Phillip. Next time, I’ll have to practice more,” Damon made a fake gun with his fingers and pointed it up to Spencer’s head, pretending to shoot it.

“And I’ll make sure Mommy isn’t around to stop the bullet….you know what, maybe I’ll actually take two shots next time.”

“You son of a bitch,” Spencer leapt up from the table and tackled Damon to the floor.

Damon wasn’t in handcuffs but was already pinned to the floor before he knew what was happening. Spencer landed a few good punches on him before Hotch and Derek pulled him back.

“Stay away from them,” Spencer seethed.

“Are you going to do something about this rogue agent?” Damon demanded, wiping the blood from his nose.

“Technically, he’s a civilian and I’m only responsible for my team’s behavior so no. And it’s doctor, not agent,” Hotch put Damon back in handcuffs and escorted him out of the room.

A/N: so many people thought the unsub was cat adams but i already planned it to be like the LDSK in the park. i wasn’t originally planning on having cat be in this fic but should i write her in (this fic will still have a happy ending). also, this is a bit of a filler chapter but the next chapter is gonna be really long and i’m so busy this week so it may not be out until this weekend. i will post an update on here when i have a better idea of when it will be out. anyways...did you hear that??? i think it’s wedding bells...

#spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #reid x reader #spencer x reader #cm fanfic #criminal minds

[leossmoonn]

No Weakness [Spencer Reid]

masterlist 

pairing - spencer reid x gn!reader

type - fluff, lil angst 

request / note -  “where the reader is new to BAU and they see dead body first time, and it kinda bothers them. and spencer noticed it, even when the reader tries they best no show it (bc they’re scared it makes the look like they’re weak) so when they’re just two of them spencer tries to make them feel better and tells them its okay and it does not make them weak.” this was so fun to write, ahhh! thank you @avrilstaro for requesting <3 *not edited lol oops*

summary - you’re embarrassed after freaking out from seeing a dead body, but spencer assures you that it’s okay

warnings / includes - descriptions of mutilated body, small description of case (child kidnapper case for this fic), crying, anxiety, nausea, little fighting, food mention. you and spencer are dating in this  

———— 

*gif isn’t mine*

“I can’t believe I didn’t get to sleep in,” you mumbled, throwing your purse down on your desk rather roughly. 

“Not like you would’ve anyways. Ariel was meowing for you five minutes before we got called in,” Spencer stated. 

“So? I would’ve fallen back asleep after,” you shrugged. “You would’ve stayed up all morning playing with her, babe,” Spencer chuckled. 

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t know that.” 

“I do! You’ve done it every morning since we got her,” Spencer argued. 

You scoffed, shaking your head at your boyfriend. You trudged over to the coffee machine, getting out a mug the size of a bowl and filling it to the brim. It was already your third cup of the day, and while it was probably unhealthy drinking that much coffee, you needed it. It was your first week on the job and you still weren’t used to waking up at five in the morning for a surprise case. This was your second case, though, so you weren’t very surprised that you were still tired. You knew you would get used to it as time went on, but you wished that your body and mind would adapt faster. 

“You’re coming on the field today.” Emily nudged your arm with a file. 

Your eyes widened and you sputtered out coffee, coughing to try and clear your throat. Emily chuckled, patting your back gently to help you. You set your coffee down, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand once you got control of your breathing.  

“W-What?” You asked, the words Emily said not processing in your brain. 

“I said you’re coming onto the field today,” she repeated. 

“B-But…” your trailed off, trying to find a reasonable explanation. “I-I wasn't supposed to be on the field for another week. I’m still technically in training.” 

“Well, part of the training is going on the field. You’re an amazing agent in the office, L/n, but you'd be even better on the field. You’re able to sympathise with the unsubs and solve the puzzles faster than most of us can, sometimes faster than your boyfriend. You’ll help us a lot better out there than in here.” 

You chuckled nervously, heat crawling up the back of your neck. “Thanks, Emily, but I’m not ready.” 

Emily rolled her eyes. “That’s what all the new agents say. You need to just get out there, and there’s no better time to do that then early in the game.”

“I guess,” you muttered, lifting your coffee cup and taking a sip. 

“You’ll be fine, Y/n. I have no doubts,” Emily smiled. 

“Thanks.” You have her a small smile. “No problem. And hey, don’t tell Spencer I said you’re better at the job than him,” she winked. 

You laughed and nodded, “I won’t, I promise.” 

She walked away, leaving you to lean against the counter and to drink the rest of your coffee before going to the briefing room. 

“So, I heard that Newbie is finally coming along with us today!” Luke exclaimed. 

“Newbie is your nickname, Newbie,” Penelope narrowed her eyes at Luke. Luke rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah. Anyways, you excited?”

You sat down in one of the chairs between to Luke and Matt. “Not really, if I”m being honest.” 

“Oh, why? You’ll be great!” Matt smiled. “So everyone says,” you sighed. 

“Hey, I heard you’re coming with us today. Can’t wait to have you on the field.” Spencer smiled as he walked past you. 

“Yeah, I’m excited to outsmart you, too,” you smirked. 

“Oh, Reid, looks like you have some competition!” Luke teased. 

Spencer shook his head and looked at you through his lashes. You gave him a challenging look, leaning on the table. 

“May the best agent win, Reid,” you dared. 

“Alright,” he shrugged. “Better have no weaknesses, L/n.” 

“Oh, I have none,” you smirked. Spencer replied to you with a hum, giving you an excited smile before paying attention to the case.  

Penelope and Emily delivered the case to you six, then leaving you all to pack up your things as you were going on the jet. You got out the small duffle bag of clothes you had in your car for traveling on cases, also grabbing your phone charger and the case files. You walked up onto the jet, placing your bags up over the overhead storage area. You got seated across from Tara and next to Spencer. 

You all talked about your plans to catch the unsub and where you all were assigned to. Tara, you, and Spencer were going to go to the crime scene to scope out the area. Emily and JJ would stay at the police station and work there, while Matt and Luke did witness and suspect interviews. 

You were sitting back in your chair, looking out the window and admiring the sky as the jet flew through the clouds. You still had an hour before you landed. Everyone was either sleeping or listening to music. You had thought about going back to sleep, but it seems as though the three cups of coffee you had finally kicked in.  

You regretted drinking so much coffee because now, your heart was racing and your hands were shaking. You weren’t sure if it was totally because of the caffeine or that you were nervous about being on the field for the first time, but you assumed it was a little bit of both. 

Spencer, who was seated next to you, noticed your jitteriness. He closed his book softly, setting it down on the floor next to his seat, turning to you and taking your hands in his. 

Your head snapped to him quickly, your eyes landing on his. He gave you a soft smile, beginning to rub his thumb over your knuckles. 

“You’ll do great out there, alright?” He assured. 

You sighed, turning away from the window and to him. “What if the lead I find doesn’t work? What if I can’t figure out where the unsub has the kids? O-Or what if I embarrass myself in front of the police chief?”

Spencer chuckled softly at your concerns, making you frown. 

“Don’t laugh! Hey, I bet you had all these concerns when you first joined.” 

“I did,” he admitted. “But, I learned that I worked with a team. It’s not just me doing the work, just like it’s not just you. You have seven people working with you on this. Try and relax, baby, alright? You do amazing work at the office. This won’t be any different.” 

You scoffed, “Please. It’s like, a million times different.” 

“Just try and relax,” he instructed, putting your hand up to his lips. 

You smiled widely, your heart fluttering as he kissed your hand. 

“Plus, even if it was just you working the case, I have no doubt you would figure it out quickly.” 

“Thanks, babe,” you smiled and leaned your head against the headrest. 

“Of course. I love you,” he said, leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. 

“Oh, gross. You guys know I just became newly single,” Tara scoffed. 

You laughed and turned to her. “That was like, nine months ago.” 

Tara raised her brows, looking at Matt and Spencer, and back at you. “You weren’t even here back then. How do you know this?” 

“I just know things,” you winked. “Yeah, well I’m betting someone blabbed,” Tara grumbled. 

“We would never,” Matt disagreed. “Mhm,” Tara hummed, going back onto her phone. 

You smiled at you teammates and looked back at Spencer and putting your head on his shoulder. You closed your eyes for a few moments, opening your eyes again. You blinked rapidly, yawning and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You rolled your head around, your eyes settling onto Spencer who was back to reading his book. You turned your head back to the window, furrowing your brows as you noticed you weren’t up in the sky anymore. 

“Oh, good. You’re up,” Spencer spoke, putting his book away. 

“Are we here already?” You asked, your voice croaky and hoarse. 

“Yep,” he nodded. “We landed about ten minutes ago.” 

“Oh,” you frowned, sitting up and getting out of your seat. You stretched your limbs, yawning once more as you held your hand up above your head. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” You sighed. 

“You’re just so peaceful when you sleep. I couldn’t,” he explained. 

You smiled and went to get your luggage. “Thanks, Spence. But everyone is probably waiting for me now.” 

“No, it’s alright. We can’t go and see the crime scene yet anyways.” 

“How come?” You asked. “Not prepped for us,” Spencer answered. 

“Since when does a crime scene need to be prepped for the FBI?” You snorted. 

“You’d be surprised,” Spencer let out a breathy chuckle. 

You put your duffle bag over your shoulders and handing Spencer his, holding your hand out for Spencer to take. “Join me down the stairs?” 

“Of course,” he grinned, standing up and taking your hand into his and his bag.

You two walked off the jet, going over to the SUV. Spencer drove you two to the hotel where you dropped off your things, immediately going to the police station. 

“ ‘Bout time!” Matt exclaimed, seeing you two walking through the doors. 

You chuckled, “Sorry. Looks like the coffee wore off and I finally crashed.” 

“It’s alright. I think the scene is ready for you guys to look at now,” he said. 

“Great,” you smiled. 

You and Spencer found Tara, going into the SUV once again, driving to the house where the parents were killed and children taken. 

“Wow, I’ve never seen this much yellow tape in my life,” you chuckled. “Yeah. It’s definitely not an eye sore,” Tara chortled, stepping over the caution tape. 

You and Spencer followed her, going up to the police offers that were talking at the front door. 

“Hi, we’re FBI agent with the BAU. I’m Doctor Tara Lewis, this is Doctor Spencer Reid, and Agent Y/n L/n,” Tara introduced you all. 

You smiled and shook the two officer’s hand. “Nice to meet you two.” 

“Likewise. I’m Officer Santiago and this is Officer Reynolds. The parents were killed in two different places. The father in the bedroom, mother in the oldest child’s room.” 

“Lovely. Can’t wait to see,” Tara smiled sarcastically. 

“Oh, I bet. Go ahead and go in, let us know if you find anything, please,” Reynolds said. 

You nodded and stepped into the house, cringing at the heavy smell of bleach. 

“God. It’s like a hospital in here, but twenty times worse!” You held your nose. “I should’ve told Emily I needed to stay back with Penelope.” 

“Oh, this is nothing,” Spencer smirked. “Wait until you see where they all got killed.” 

“Ew, Spence!” You shrieked. “You’re supposed to protect me from all that.” 

He chuckled, “All part of the job, baby.” 

You nodded and sighed, knowing that he was right. As always. You three walked up the stairs, looking at where the father was killed. There was an enormous amount of blood of the bedsheets and some on the corner of the right nightstand, some splatters that were below on the floor. 

“So,” you started. “We’re looking at a team, right? I mean, there’s no way that the unsub could kill the father without the mom noticing.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking’,” Tara nodded. “Well, I could be possible,” Spencer contradicted.

You and Tara looked at each other, confused. 

“Yeah, how?” You asked.

 “Well,” Spencer said, walking over to the bed. “The unsub could’ve choked or suffocated the father in his sleep. I mean, there were ligature marks around his neck, right?” 

“True. And the mom was saying goodnight to her children, so she obviously didn’t see her husband get killed,” Tara added on. 

You furrowed your brows, stepped out of the parents’s bedroom, going to the child’s. 

“Yeah, but, what about the kid? I mean, wouldn’t it have screamed and fought and ran out of the house?” You asked. 

Tara looked to you, eyes widening in surprise. “Yeah, that is a good thought. So… unsub number one is killing the father while unsub number two is kidnapping the mom slash killing the child…” 

“No, that wouldn't work. Maybe it’s a group of three?” Spencer suggested. 

“Maybe,” Tara shrugged. 

You stepped into the child’s bedroom, scrunching your nose as a foul smell wafted under your nose. You walked around, covering your nose with your sleeve. You saw the blood on the bedsheets and nightstand table. 

“Looks like the unsubs all have the same MO’s,” you muttered. 

You opened the closet, seeing nothing but toys, clothes, and shoes. You closed the doors, looking around the walls, your heart sinking as you saw all the finger pantings and pictures of family and friends. You walked up to the wall, losing your balance as you tripped on a a long, soft object. 

You let out a yelp, falling on your shoulder. You groaned in pain, turning on your back while holding your injured side. You looked around for the object you tripped on, frowning as you couldn’t find it. Something pale caught the corner of your eyes. You raised your brow, getting up on your knees and moving closer. 

“What the —” You muttered, your voice getting caught in your throat as you realised it was an arm sticking out under the bed. “Oh, my —” You gasped, peering under the bed, seeing the dead body of one of the children. “Oh, my God!” You shouted, scooting back, your back hitting the wall as you stared at the lifeless body. Tears welled up in your eyes and you put your hand to your mouth, loud and broken sobs escaping your throat. 

The boy couldn’t have been more than a few days old, yet it was still lying there. You could see the lifelessness in his eyes, and still the fear. There was a slit across his throat and cheek, his upper chest red with with green and purple bruises. You felt nauseas and cold, your heart sinking all the way down past your stomach. Your body was shaking and you couldn’t tear your eyes off of the body, no matter how hard you tried. 

You heard the footsteps of your colleagues, their voices calling your name. 

“Y/n, where are — O-Oh, my God.” Spencer’s eyes widened as he saw you crying on the floor. He immediately dropped down to his knees, taking you into his arms. “What happened.” 

You were unable to move, your eyes staring wide at the body. Spencer followed your gaze, his own heart dropping down to his chest. 

“Oh, man. Um,” Spencer said, looking away from the body and to you. His heart broke as he saw you so horrified. He put his hand on your cheek gently, turning your face so you were no longer looking at the body. “Let’s get you to out of here, alright?” 

You nodded slowly, your breaths becoming laboured as you tried to calm yourself down in Spencer’s arms. He got up, taking you with him. He walked you out of the room, coming face-to-face with Tara. 

“What happened?” Tara gasped. 

“Looks like the unsubs left the older boy. Tell the police officers, I need to get Y/n out of here,” Spencer said. 

Tara looked at you, nodding without hesitation. She let you two go, Spencer walking you down the stairs slowly. You exited the house, still taking heavy breathes as the image of the boy haunted your thoughts. Spencer gently got you seated into the car, buckling you in. He went to the driver’s seat, getting in and starting to drive. 

You two sat in the silence for thirty minutes while Spencer drove around. You looked at the window the whole time, your eyes glossy and strained from crying and keeping them open. Whenever you closed your eyes, even to just blink, flashes of the dead boy raced through your mind. Spencer waited patiently for you to speak, understanding how shocked and horrified you were. 

He parked in a Burger King parking lot, sighing and looking at you. He gingerly put his hand on your shoulder, only for you to shrug him away. 

“Y/n,” he sighed. 

“No,” you grumbled. “Take me back.” 

“I think it would be smart if you took the day off. Seeing a dead body, especially a child’s and one you had no idea exited, can really throw you off. The first time I saw a dead body…. Man, I-I was sick to my stomach. I—” 

“Shut up!” You exclaimed, waving your hands in the hair. You looked at him, your chest heaving up and down. Your brows were furrowed and mouth open, your eyes glaring at him.  “Just shut up, Spencer!” 

His mouth went agape, hurt flashing though his eyes. He didn’t let your outburst  dampen his spirits, though. He knew you were embarrassed and still horrified, and that you didn’t like to feel belittled. So he gave you a small, comforting smile, taking your hands into his. You didn’t move away this time, but you avoided any and all eye contact. 

“I know how you feel, babe,” he sympathised. “Yeah, I bet,” you muttered, your voice hoarse and dry. 

He frowned and unbuckled, leaning closer to you. He put his hand on your chin, turning your head with strength and force. You eventually met his eyes, his smile dropping as he saw tears rolling down your cheeks once again, your lips pulled into a pout. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he assured, cupping your cheek and wiping your tears away with his thumb. 

“N-No, it’s not,” you sobbed, shaking your head. “I-I’m so weak. I should’ve been ready. This is what I’ve been tra-trainging for and I suddenly turn into a freaking wuss? I-I… I… It’s so embarrassing!” You shoulders racked with sobs as you hung your head down to cry. 

“Oh, baby,” Spencer sighed, taking your head in both of his hands. He held your head up again, bringing his face close to yours. He put his forehead against yours, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “It’s no embarrassing, alright? Your reaction was a perfectly normal reaction to seeing a dead child’s body. Honestly, if you didn’t cry and freak out, I would be worried,” he chuckled. 

You gave him a watery smile, laughing with him. “Y-Yeah, I s-suppose,” you sniffled. “B-But,” you started. “I-It makes me look weak. And I don’t want to look weak, Spence. A-All my life I’ve been told —” 

He smiled widely, leaning back so he could look you in the eyes. “You’re not weak, Y/n. You never could be, even if you tried. You’re just human, and that’s fine. It’s amazing, honestly. You know, I am so proud of you, babe.”

You frowned, “Why?”

“Because today was your first day out on the field, and you did fantastic. It can only get better from here.” 

“Y-You really think so?” You sniffed, wiping your nose with your sleeve. 

“I know so,” he nodded confidently. “And it’s okay to show weakness, Y/n. No weakness is the real weakness.” 

“Such wise words,” you laughed. He laughed with you and he shrugged. “I try.” 

You laid your head back on the headrest, looking a him through tired eyes. “Thanks, Spencer. It really means a lot.” 

He nodded with a smile. “Of course, honey. Now, why don’t you say we get something to eat, then go back to the precinct?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Sounds great.” 

He nodded and buckled himself back in, putting his hand on the gearshift and looking to you. 

“I’m proud of you, you know that?”

You smiled shyly, heat scorching your cheeks. “Yeah, I know. You’ve already told me.” 

“Just making sure you know, baby.” 

———— 

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[wiypt-writes]

Sunny Side Up

Summary: Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, right? And for Mike, there’s no better way to start it than by eating his favourite thing, ever.

Pairing: Mike Weiss x Reader

Warnings: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Brief mentions of drug addiction- nothing graphic. Language!

A/N: So this was what popped into my head after seeing @imanuglywombat​ post that damned latest Sex Position as part of her downright filthy and wonderful “Is That Even A Sex Position” weekly challenge. This position is called “The Special Breakfast”. See here for more information. And you can totally blame @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ for this one. I wasn’t gonna write it but…yeah, I did. Sorry not sorry.  I’ve tried to make the reader as non-descript and as inclusive as I can but I don’t usually do reader x fics so I apologise if it hasn’t quite hit the mark.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader.  By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Tagged my permanent tag list.

Main Masterlist

********

“No, that’s not the same, at all.” Mike’s voice drifted up the hallway of you house as you closed the door behind you, shutting out the bitter January wind that has descended over Dover. “Yeah, well they signed up to the terms so....”

You glanced at your watch, it wasn’t even seven-AM yet and he was already on to someone about the current case he was working. But then, that was Mike all over. An addict, only now you were glad to say the only thing flooding his system was adrenaline and passion for his work.

You hung your jacket up on the pegs by the door, unwrapped your woollen scarf from round your neck and placed that over the hook above your jacket and then reached down to unzip you boots, before toeing them off. Your sock clad feet padded down the wooden floor of the hall towards the kitchen and you walked in to see Mike was bent over a file on the island in the middle, already dressed for the office.

“Clause ninety-one, paragraph twenty, sub-bullet two. Yup. We’ll present that to them today, give them chance to respond.” He paused for a moment, his head turning to you, a warm smile spreading across his face as you leaned over for a quick peck before you headed to the fridge for a soda. “Yeah. Okay, no problem, see you about half eight.”

With that he placed the cordless phone down and turned to face you.

“Morning, Baby.” He grinned, before he nodded to the Diet Coke in your hand. “Interesting choice of drink for breakfast.”

“Technically it’s not my breakfast time.” You shrugged back. “More like dinner, I suppose.”

Mike chuckled as he crossed to space towards you, his hands falling to your hips before he bent down and brushed his lips against yours in a hardly there kiss. “Good shift?”

“A heart attack, car accident, two broken legs, couple of flu cases and a shit tonne of idiotic drunks, the finest Delaware has to offer.” You shrugged. “Usual shit.”

“I don’t know how you do it, Dr Y/L/N”

“Lucky for you I do, or we’d have never met.”

“And I’d be dead.”

“Don’t.” You shook your head, swallowing a little. The memory of that night almost eighteen months ago was still raw. If you hadn’t stopped by at Mike’s that evening following an argument the pair of you had earlier in the day, you’d never have found him almost dead from an overdose. It had been a long road to recovery, and whilst nothing was ever proven, Mike and Paul were convinced that it was something to do with the safety needle case they had been working. Despite the fact that there was enough heroin in his system to stop his heart, Mike swore blind to you he hadn’t taken anything but a few lines that night, and there was something about the way he said it that made you believe him. And so did Paul.

The authorities never managed to prove anything, but there was one good thing to come out of it. When you had broken down and told Mike how scared you’d been that he was going to die and that you couldn’t cope anymore with the constant fear that one day he would kill himself for real, it gave Mike the final kick he needed because he didn’t want to lose you.

So he got clean. And this time he did it for good.

It wasn’t easy, for either of you. Once he was medically fit enough, Mike had been placed on a programme at a Rehab Centre, whereby he saw no one bar trained medical specialists and councillors for six weeks. It felt like the longest six weeks of your life but he did it. And when you went to pick him up, you instantly burst into tears at how different he looked, how better he looked, how healthy he looked.

The road to recovery is a long one, paved with temptations, you knew that being a Doctor. And whilst Mike knew and understood his triggers thanks to his programme, those temptations met him everywhere, especially because he knew exactly where and how to get his fix. So the pair of you agreed to take a fresh start. You traded Texas for Delaware, the State you were originally from, and you were beyond proud to be able to honestly state that Mike Weiss had been clean now for eighteen months. Well, apart from alcohol that is. But even that was enjoyed in moderation, and to be honest, you’d rather him sit at home with a glass or two of bourbon each night that sticking fuck knows what into his veins.

You cocked your head to one side as his hands flexed on your hip and he gave you a little side smile. “Sorry. Oh, hey guess who I got a call from?”

“Who?” You asked as he stepped back, grinning.

“The Alligator Farm. Snappy’s got himself a lady friend. They’re gonna send me some photos and stuff.”

You smiled, giving up that beloved alligator had been a hard sell to Mike. “That’s great.”

“Yeah. Oh and Paul was thinking of coming over with the family in the spring. I said they could stay here, I know it’ll be a squeeze but is that okay?”

“Course it is.” You reached up to cup his cheek. “It’ll be lovely to see them again.”

Mike smiled and dropped another kiss to your lips, this one slightly stronger before you pat his chest as he rest his forehead against yours.

“I need to go shower.”

“Want me to come join you?” He asked, eyebrow raised and you smiled.

“As good as that sounds there’s something else I want more.”

“Oh yeah?” He grinned, his eyes flickering down to the buttons on your blouse and you laughed.

“Calm down, Stud. I want pancakes and bacon, I don’t give a shit what time it’s supposed to be for me.”

Mike groaned as you moved away from where you’d been stood with your back to the large, stainless steel fridge and headed out of the room. He watched you go, the gently sway of your hips in your well fitted black pants made his groin twitch. He was half tempted to fuck your demands and go and jump you in the shower whether you wanted him to or not, but he’d seen the flicker your face had given when you’d described how your twelve-hour shift had gone down. Despite your blasé tone, he knew you too well and understood exactly how tired and stressed you were feeling. So, instead, he turned his attention to making breakfast.

Something he prided himself on was his cooking ability. He’d picked it up pretty fast since you’d moved here, he found it was a welcome distraction, so much so you very rarely made meals now, bar when you insisted on doing a roast which he never argued against.  Within fifteen minutes he had a stack of pancakes, bacon, eggs- sunny side up, as you preferred- all laid out on the island and ready for you to help yourself to. He’d just poured you an orange juice when you walked back into the kitchen, hair piled on your head in a messy bun, wrapped in a dressing gown and he was pleased to see you looked relaxed.

“Oh, Mikey, this looks great!” You smiled as he wrapped an arm round you, kissing your head. He watched as you helped yourself to a huge plateful before making your way over to the table and sitting down with a sigh. Mike tucked his tie into his shirt to avoid it dropping into his food and plated himself a helping up before he sat down at the place next to you, cracking his neck slightly. The pair of you chatted about the day ahead, which for you consisted of sleeping until it was time to get up for your next shift, Mike’s contained a meeting with a company who he was currently in the process of negotiating a settlement with on behalf of a client. When you’d finished, Mike made to clear away the dishes but you gently placed your hand on his arm and stood up, insisting on doing it as he’d cooked.

When you returned to the table, Mike pushed his chair back slightly and patted his knee.

“Come ‘ere.” He smiled softly and you grinned, settling yourself on his lap sideways, your arm looping round his shoulder, fingers gently playing with his suspenders. He gave a contented sigh as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to your head, happy to simply be close to you for a moment.

“You doing okay?” You asked and he smiled, your words carrying that hidden meaning- ‘Do you want a fix, today?’

“I’m good, Babes.” He pulled back to look at you. “I promise.”

Smiling you gently placed your lips on his in a soft kiss, which soon became heated as Mike’s hand slid up to the back of your neck, holding you in place as his tongue slid along your bottom lip. He was pleased when you reciprocated, opening your mouth slightly to allow him in. He could taste the sweetness of the syrup on you from your pancakes and, as your tongue gently swirled against his, he let out a little groan from the back of his throat and he felt you smile.

“How long till you have to be in the office?” Your voice was lower than you’d intended, betraying exactly what you had in mind and Mike grinned at you, pulling back a little, as he glanced up at the clock.

“Just over forty-five minutes, why?”

You bit your lip, fingers toying once more with his suspenders which were clipped to the waistband of his light, grey trousers and sat over a maroon shirt, set off with a black tie. “Do I gotta spell it out to you, Weiss?”

“No, I just like hearing you beg.” A cheeky glint flashed in his eyes and you gave a snort.

“I do not beg.”

“Really?” He arched an eyebrow and in a swift moment he stood up, causing you to give a shriek of a giggle as he sat you on the table in front of him. “I bet,” he pushed on your shoulders causing you to rest your weight on your elbows as he loomed over you, gently reaching for the tie on your robe, “that I can have you singing my name and begging for more,” his hands made quick work of the knot and pulled it open, before his fingers slid up the front, opening it to leave you bare in front of him, “in less than five minutes flat.”

“Less than five minutes?” You looked up at him, his eyes blown with lust and you smirked. “You’re so full of shit.”

He wasn’t though, you knew full well that you were the one full of shit. Mike had on many an occasion had you crying his name in less time than it took you to sing a verse of the National Anthem, and he knew it as the cocky expression on his face showed.

“Oh, Baby Girl.” He chuckled, bending over, his mouth brushing against that spot on your neck, the bristles of his short beard scratching your skin. “Have you learnt nothing, yet?”

“Only that you’re a cocky little bastard.” You tried to keep your voice level but it didn’t work. Your words came out a shaky whisper as one of his hands gently splayed on your stomach and brushed up your body to your sternum as he peppered hot, opened mouthed kisses across your collar bone, before his lips ghosted up your neck, over your chin and his mouth claimed yours in a searing kiss as his hand palmed at your breast. As he rolled your nipple between his finger and thumb you gave a moan and he smirked against your mouth.

Suddenly, he was gone from over you and you frowned, missing his sudden presence and you propped yourself up on your elbows to see him settling back in the chair by the table.

“Mike, what the-“

You were cut off as he reached over, grabbing your ass and hoisting your pelvis up, pulling you towards him. Before you could register what was going on, your legs were over his shoulders and you just caught a glimpse of his face, as he quirked an eyebrow at you, lips curled upwards in that maddeningly smug bastard grin, before his mouth was trailing up the inside of your thigh.

“Oh, Jesus.” You let out a little groan as he neared the place you now desperately wanted him and he chuckled.

“No, just me.”

“Fuck off you-“ But whatever it was you were going to call him flew from your mind as his tongue licked up your sex, and grazed against your clit, teasing it with quick, hardly there flicks which, you were ashamed to say, had you riled up something feral. His hands palmed at your ass, his fingers curling round the outside of your thighs as he quickened his movements, his mouth expertly devouring you, tongue flicking into your entrance as his lips circled that sensitive nub, giving a suck that made you cry out, your back arching off the table, pushing yourself further onto his face.

Mike let out a chuckle which vibrated exquisitely against you and you gasped again, your hands slapping onto the cool surface of the table, fingernails feeling the grain of the wood as he upped his efforts dramatically, lips and tongue teasing you in a way that was so delectable it was teetering along that fine line between pain and pleasure. His mouth expertly devoured every inch of you, from your inner and outer pussy lips to the depths of your walls, tongue fucking you like you he was starving, despite the breakfast the pair of you had eaten moments ago.

“Fuck, Mike, I need…” Your voice was croaky, the words sounded far off as they bounced around your lust addled brain and once again he chuckled.

“I told you.”

“Yeah, yeah you arrogant sh-oooh fuck!” You cried as he gently nipped your clit. “Shit!”

You were willing yourself to remain grounded, wanting to prove him wrong but you couldn’t. You couldn’t fight the urge you felt to ride over the edge which was building like a fire inside you. When his mouth was over you completely once more, tongue deep, you felt him move one of his hands and his thumb pressed against your clit, before the pressure eased off and his tongue slipped away.

"Okay, okay you win, Mike, please for the love of God!” You groaned and with a final, maddeningly smug chuckle he dove back in, only this time when you felt your orgasm brewing he didn’t stop. One of your hands flew to his hair, pulling lightly on his soft, spiky strands and he gave a growl as you tugged, his efforts doubling once more as his beard scratched against your sensitive pussy and inner thighs. The coil in your belly was tightening, your entire body quivered and with a final flick of his tongue you gave a cry as your orgasm crashed over you. Your toes curled into his back just below his shoulders, your own back arched as your walls clamped down over nothing, the room fading out as everything went silent and the lights erupted in front of your eyes, your entire body feeling like you were floating.

Mike grinned, guiding you through your release before he stood up, pulling you further to the end of the table as he undid the flies on his trousers, freeing his painfully hard erection. The swollen head of his dick gently swirled around your folds before he buried himself inside you, groaning as he felt you fluttering around him in the after throes of your orgasm. You let out a low groan and finally opened your eyes, looking up at him as he pounded into you, fully clothed, those fucking suspenders that drove you wild still looped over his shoulders.  

He slid one, large hand under your back and pulled you up causing you to cry out as he drove deeper into you, his hand on the base of your back pulling you up and towards him as he dipped his head to give you a dirty, sloppy kiss whilst he rolled and thrust into you. Then His lips moved down, nipping at your neck, his breath hot on your ear as your head fell back, a low moan rumbling in his throat.

“God, I love seeing you like this, fucking wrecked all because of me.” His panted words made you groan even more as the heat in your groin was beginning to mount again. “Makes me higher than any fucking drug ever could.”

His thrusts continued, hard, deep, and you felt his dick throbbing inside you as he drove up against your spot, his lips back on yours as he kissed you hard, swallowing the pants and whimpers you were making as you began to teeter on that cliff edge again. With a deep roll of his hips you let out a low wail and came, once more, your core spasmed around him as your entire body tingled, and that was enough for him to follow you. With a powerful thrust he stiffened, a low grunt stuttering from his lips as he pulsed inside of you, his hips growing sloppy before they stopped completely. His chest heaving, he pressed his forehead to yours, the pair of you gasping for breath as you came down from your high.

“Shit, Mike.” You managed to stutter as he grinned, his lips meeting yours in a soft peck. “That was…”

“Yeah, I was pretty good.” He chuckled and you slapped his arm as he moved and pulled out of you. You straightened your robe and stood up, wincing as you felt his release trickled down your inner thigh.

“I need another shower.” You grumbled, before you glanced at his crotch, the damp patch where he’d pressed against you was clear as day. “And you should probably change your trousers.”

Mike glanced down before his eyes met you, and he shrugged. “Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll go into the office like this and then every time I see it I’ll be reminded exactly what a damned good breakfast I had this morning.”

You blinked before you shook your head, scoffing. “You’re gross.”

He laughed. “You love it, Sweetheart.”

“I love you.” You corrected, your hands sliding up over his shoulders and he smiled, a pure, innocent smile that made him look like a schoolboy before he took your face in his hands and kissed you deeply, pulling away, his nose bumping against yours.

“I love you too.” He whispered, his eyes locking onto yours. “Now go, before I decide to play hooky for the day.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Weiss.” You smirked, before with one final quick peck you left the room.

Mike watched you go, before he ran his hands through his hair and turned to glance around the kitchen, his eyes falling to the table he’d just fucked you senseless on.

He should probably clean that before he went to work…

#uglywombatsexpositionchallenge #mike weiss #mike weiss x reader #mike weiss x you #mike weiss reader insert #reader insert #mike weiss fanfic #mike weiss smut #chris evans #chris evans characters

[jasontoddssoulmate]

I made an account for the sole purpose of this TUA fic concept

I’m a sucker for those “the characters read the books/watch the series” fics and I’ve read a little for TUA but I just had the idea:

The Hargreeves kids watching the two seasons but instead of just the seven of them, their birth mothers are brought in to watch as well

Maybe have the birth mothers family (if they have any) watch it with them 

This happens before everything. Before Ben’s death, before Five’s disappearance, before they even have their names. The kids, One through Seven, are brought in. Maybe when they’re old enough to get the gist of what’s going on, but before they’re 13.

These 6 young women are brought in (because I adore that Luther and Five being twins is canon in the comics and I love the mention of it), and they’re confused because maybe The Umbrella Academy isn’t internationally well known so the kids are familiar but they can’t put the name to the face. Not until they introduce themselves, anyways, and suddenly they’re face to face with the baby that they gave away years ago.

Maybe a few of them regret it, maybe they tried to forget it, maybe they spend so much of their time thinking about it or maybe they’re overjoyed that their baby seems to be doing so well. 

But their names. 

There’s just so much about them that doesn’t feel,,, so right? Maybe that’s not the word for it but they’re too polite sometimes, their casually cruel treatment towards their sister isn’t normal and the way that they simultaneously act entitled and inferior towards each other isn’t suppose to be as normal as the kids make it out to be. 

All in all, the women are confused and maybe a bit wary of their casual usage of powers among each other that’s normal to the siblings as much as it is abnormal to the birth mothers. 

But communication is easy since each child learned their own mother language as well as the language of their siblings birth place and then some which only seems to remind the women that holy shit these kids are technically rich because of their father

The Hargreeves though? They’re confused and wary as hell. They may not have been introduced as The Inaugural Class of The Umbrella Academy yet (or maybe they have considering what your timeline is) but they’ve been training for most of their life and the situation is baffling. Here are these random people that they’ve never met before (at least to their knowledge) and they’ve never had to go outside to interact with others, not really at least. 

So it makes sense that they go for polite but threatening. They maybe decide unanimously that the weaker willed ones like Four, Six and Seven are discreetly protected behind their older (in spirit) siblings, One, Two, Three and Five. 

But they’re no real threat, its obvious in the way that the Hispanic woman uses such an endearing term like “mijo/a” and the way that the Russian woman has an ever present smile on her face and such a sweet disposition that reminds them of their littlest sibling and hey her eyes look just like Seven 

So after a while, they’re more open to being relaxed. Not Five though, he’s always been just a little paranoid and being a 58-year-old in a 13-year-old body never had anything to do with it. So he’s got a harsh personality but the Danish woman doesn’t seem to be deterred. He kind of reminds her of her older twin brother who acts so harshly, but who she knows loves her so much.  

So here are 7 siblings and 6 women and maybe family that was there for the women when they needed them the most. And maybe the person(s) behind this decide to be kept anonymous but they oh so want the children to get to know what being cared for is like. Maybe these women get to know the consequences of their actions or the children learn that the one who birthed them had their reasons. And it’s no excuse but it’s also not their fault. Both parties should be able to feel what they feel because it’s a complicated and maybe painful situation. 

The children lose their respect for their father every episode. Even One, who they all know cherished the favoritism but it doesn’t get in the way of his horror when he finds out that he used to lock Four in the mausoleum, still does if the flashbacks are anything to go by because not Four, not the kindest and brightest of their siblings. 

And when they learn of Seven’s powers and the reason why they are never present, they are understandably upset. They feel rage and disbelief that she had such a crucial part of herself ripped away at such a young age, because they know that their powers are like another limb. They’re born with it and they grow up with it and they were able to live their life with it so they feel rage. Rage that Seven had been so violated. Rage that the Seven they know isn’t really the Seven she was suppose to grow up to be. The Seven they knew as toddlers was sweet towards them but had a mean protective streak a mile wide that could never be controlled, not even by their father. The Seven they know now is so meek and desperate for attention. The Russian woman looks the most devastated as she thinks of the baby girl she got to hold for only a few hours before she was whisked away by a rich old man who is turning out to be the monster that one often hears about in television. 

But the women? They watch as the children in front of them, maybe a little damaged and emotionally constipated but so obviously protective and caring for each other, grow to be the grow ups in the screen above them that grow up and grow apart after so much tragedy. 

They watch as seven eventually becomes five. 

How Luther is sent to isolation for years and he goes along with it in a bid to continue to please their father.

How Diego continues to rebel because he wasn’t able to growing up but also maybe because he wants to spite his father, no matter how much he protests that he could care less what his father thinks.

How Allison goes through a divorce and loses her parental rights to even see her daughter due to her dependence of her powers that leaves her devastated. 

How Klaus is an addict who desperately wishes to get rid of the ghosts that have followed him all his life. 

How Five disappears only a little while after their current timeline.

How Ben was brutally killed by his own powers, never getting to grow up and become his own person. 

How Vanya can’t seem to do anything but go through the motions of her life, maybe having a little hope that she’ll be seen this time around, but is quickly squashed from Diego’s disparaging comments and the casual dismissal of her from her living siblings. 

They watch all this, and feel sadness and rightful anger that their babies lead the life of ex-child superheroes. The life of abused children. The life of children who had only each other. 

But was it really enough? Was it enough to know that they loved each other but had a hard time showing it and owning up to it due to fear of their father? Due to the constant comparisons and the way Sir Reginald had them turn on each other. 

But they knew it was enough. They see it in how Diego waits for Klaus to drive him around even after he had expresses annoyance beforehand, in the joy on Allison’s face when she sees Klaus again after so long, in how Five makes sure to check up on Klaus after his kidnapping, on Luther’s face when he apologizes to Vanya after realizing his own misgivings, in Ben’s task of continuing to follow his brother around even when it pains him and in Klaus trying to comfort Luther after he finds the unopened correspondents. They see it in the support they show Vanya as she goes to check on Harlan.

It had to be enough to know that after all they went through, they still care for one another and at the end of the day, would protect one another just as they were as One through Seven. 

So they watch what would be the Hargreeve’s kids misadventures, they watch as they grow together and grow apart just to grow together again, much stronger than before. 

They express sadness and disbelief when they see where Five ends up, they get mad when Leonard throws Vanya’s pills away, they grieve when they learn that Ben is dead, they’re embarrassed but find it hilarious whenever Klaus cracks an inappropriate joke, they become protective when there’s allusion to Vanya having sex, and are rightfully ready to throw down with Leonard as they watch their littlest sibling get gaslit into believing her family hates her as he nitpicks all of her interactions with her family. 

But just as they express their feelings over what happens to their family, they feel an immense amount of exasperation towards their older selves because so much could be fixed if they only talked to each other. 

They watch and despair over the missed opportunity that is Leonard in the same house as them just as they find out what his role is in the apocalypse.

Four tears up as he watched Klaus and Dave’s reunion be undone after all the heartache. 

Seven cringes when Vanya dismisses Five’s claims that he had been stuck in an apocalyptic wasteland and suggests that he’s gone crazy after his stint with time travel. 

Three feels her heart drop to her stomach as the flashback shows what becomes the moment that she faces the hard truth that come with her use of her powers.

Five feels himself flush in embarrassment as he watched two version of himself in the future, one that looks not much older than he does currently, go through paradox psychosis. 

Six feels frustration and a fierce grief that leaves him confused because he’s still alive he’s not dead, but I don’t have much longer. 

One feels horror as he watches himself hurt his siblings one after the other with a sense of helplessness because this isn’t me, I wouldn’t do this but I already did, why would I hurt my siblings, I’m Number One I have to be the one who protects them- 

The women, on the other hand, see themselves in their children. 

The French woman sees how her daughter and granddaughter, it seems, both look like a carbon copy of herself and her own mother. 

The Danish woman sees herself and her twin brother in Luther and Five. Sees her own personality reflected in Luther and her brothers personality in Five. Sees how her twins care just as much for each other and their siblings as herself and her brother do each other.

The Hispanic woman sees Diego’s fierce sense of justice that leaves others in the dust, and sees herself as she fought to keep her boy but ultimately lost him just as Diego loses Eudora. She thinks to herself like mother like son and bitterly laughs to herself but she’s so grateful that Diego had a mother who cared for him just as she cared for him because she often though about him and always made sure to commemorate his birthday. 

The German woman can’t help but see herself in her boy. Can’t help but see her little brother in him. Can’t help but see her older brother in him. Because Klaus is so joyful but he hides his pain behind a mask like her younger brother, he’s so loving towards his siblings like her older brother, and so nonsensical like herself. So like herself, down to the curly hair and the addiction. Even if she was able to overcome it with support from her family, it pains her and leaves her in despair to see Klaus and can’t find fault in those he had around him because she sees how much they try and sees how hard the Hargreeves find expressing emotion is to others. 

The Asian woman sees how sweet and shy her youngest is and thinks only of her oldest, who reminds her so much of him and can only despair in seeing that he didn’t live as long as her oldest had. She can only ask herself why her children don’t seem to be able to see themselves to adulthood but can only be grateful that even in death he has someone with him.

The Russian woman knows that her husband sees her in little number Seven, in Vanya, no matter how little that is. Maybe their personalities aren’t so similar because Seven is shy but she’s got the sweetest heart and so clearly loves her siblings. She has the same smile that she has and her little doe eyes remind her of herself when she was younger. She’s so small next to her siblings, just like herself. 

So they see themselves in these kids, these grown ups. But so do the Hargreeves. 

They see how Luther looks like what the Danish woman would look like as a man and how Five looks exactly like a younger version of the Danish man who introduced himself as the woman's older brother. 

They see how Two has the same skin tone and facial structure as the Hispanic woman. 

They see that Allison looks exactly like the French woman and see the same in Claire. 

They see Four’s curly hair and slim build in the German woman. 

They notice how Six shares the same dark hair and lower facial features. 

They see Seven’s eyes and smile and short stature in the Russian woman. 

So maybe they don’t know them well enough to see what the women see, but they grow to see it overtime because they spend so much time there, in this suspended room in time.

The women insist on getting to know them and vice versa. They insist that they have to talk about their feelings and assure them or gently scold them, depending on the reason, for what they feel because god do these children need to learn how to talk more about their emotions in a healthy way.

They get closer to the children and start to really see their childish side. They all fight over the silliest things, and become pouty when attention isn’t being drawn over to them. They crave physical affection, even Five who won’t admit that his maternal uncle patting him and One of the head made him feel all gooey inside. They make faces towards foods that they don’t like and still prefer junk food over real food. 

So maybe it’s harder to let themselves act like children because they’re being conditioned to not “be childish” but even then they have their lapses in control. Four enters a state of panic after being reminded of his time in the mausoleum. One feels overwhelming guilt when he sees how Luther hurts Klaus and reminds himself that he’s the one that needs to protect them, as the leader and self proclaimed older sibling. Five feels himself cry for the first time in a long while when he sees how his siblings act towards him in the future and realize it hurts him deeply because he knows that he’s messed up their lives a lot but can’t they see that he only want to keep them alive, he doesn’t want to see them die again, he can’t-

But instead of being shamed into controlling their emotions, they are comforted and reassured. Four’s birth mother helps ground him and counts his breathing with him to keep him from falling further into his panic. One get’s reassured by his birth mother that his future self isn’t his current self. That everyone in the room has seen just how much he cares for his siblings and knows he would do anything for them. The twins uncle gives into his urge and hugs Five, whispering in a hushed tone that it’s okay to cry, to let it all out. He whispers that his older siblings are being idiots and if they knew just how much their actions were hurting you, they wouldn’t hesitate to apologize and hug you too. His words only make Five cry harder. 

So they are cared for and allowed to be themselves fully and can be childish to their hearts content. And their birth families watch on in amazement and adoration. 

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

I have so much more that I’ll probably add later, but basically I want them to be cared for, allowed to care for each other and learn to express themselves better. I want to see them get to have a good relationship with an adult and if possible their birth mothers. 

Pls share links and stuff if you get inspired, I’m not much for writing fanfic but I really do want to see something like this. I’d read the shit out of it. I have so much more that I want to add but I’ll probably do something about it later. 

#i just think it's neat #they deserve to be cared for #Luther and Five are twins #they may all be the same age but there's definitely an older sibling/little sibling vibe among them all #i love the idea of each of the kids and the women seeing family traits in each other #i headcanon Vanya as a feral protector of her siblings before Sir Hardass took away her powers #Vanya was the epitome of i've only had them for a day but if anything happened to them i'd kill everyone in this room then myself #except she was raised with them but my point still stands #they watch the series #i have mixed feelings about the Hargreeves birth mothers #protectiveHargreeves #protectivesiblings #lutherhargreeves #allisonhargreeves #diegohargreeves #klaushargreeves #tua five #five hargreeves #fivehargreeves #benhargreeves #vanyahargreeves #spaceboy #thekraken #therumor #theseance #the horror #the boy

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Fangs//i bet you're real sweet with her

Request: You my friend are the queeen 👑 of songfics. Any chance you would want to write a fic for the song Bitter by Fletcher? With any of my boys Malachai/Reggie/Fangs/Pea you can choose 😘

hey! brit! @wayward-river this is for you, my love! enjoy! also, this is the last request i have! i did it!! well done me!! requests will be open soon, so keep your eyes peeled! 

The world may have moved on and evolved, but when you’re stuck in Riverdale, it feels like you’re still in the same unknown decade, no matter how long you stay for. 

Four years after graduation, you’re still waiting tables at Pop’s, despite the rest of your friends moving on. The only people left behind is you, Toni, Sweet Pea and Fangs. But what was once known the four musketeers, now has a huge divide between them. 

You still talk to Toni, but she talks more with Fangs. You and Fangs don’t talk to each other anymore due to a very messy ending of an almost six year relationship. Sweet Pea and Fangs only really talk to each other when they have to. Sweet Pea’s pissed because of what Fangs did to you, despite you telling him that you don’t want to be the reason they fall out, but he still sticks by your side. And Fangs is pissed at him for taking your side. 

Toni and Sweet Pea are still close but not as much as they used to be. The only plus side is the fact that you and Sweet Pea are closer than before, but that comes at a cost, because he’s stuck in between the messiest breakup in Riverdale history, and there’s nothing he can really do except sit and listen to you complain. 

Not that he minds though, as long as you keep giving him secret staff discount on his food, he’s fine listening to you mope about Fangs. 

“I just-” You sigh, your head dropping to rest on the table. The clock ticks above you and you can feel some of the other waitresses glaring at you, as they will time to move quicker so they can have their own breaks. “Do you know when you’re on the outside of an inside joke? And everyone else knows it but you have no idea what they’re talking about and it makes you feel really lonely.” 

“Lime.” He chuckles and you stare at him confused. “Sorry, you weren’t there.” 

“That doesn’t help Sweet Pea.” You slump in the stool and stare out of the coffee machine.

In the reflection you see a group of teenagers sat at the far end of the diner and you’re taken back to when that used to be you. You and the rest of the serpents would sit for hours, just talking and eating. Now those days are far gone, the only time you would ever be in the same place as Fangs would be to fight him. 

“Hey. Sorry to interrupt.” An older woman invades your thoughts and casts a shadow over you. You pull your gaze away from the shiny metal and stare up at her. “I really wanted Coke but you guys only seem to have Pepsi.” 

“I’m on my break sorry.” You force a smile. The rehearsed customer service voice coming out naturally. “But I’m sure one of my colleagues would be more than happy to help.” You add and point to the various members of staff trying to look busy. You glare at the newest member, Emma, who has the coldest eyes and fakest smile you have ever seen. She’s been a pain in your ass since she got here, and she hasn’t stopped since. You’re just hoping the new girl starting today is going to be a lot nicer. 

“Ughhh.” You groan and lean your head on the counter again. “I just remembered I’m training a new girl today.” 

“I thought you’d just done that.” 

“I have.” You grumble and look up at him. “But because I’m the most experienced member of staff, apparently it’s also my job to make sure they don’t put tea in the coffee machine and to keep the condiments separate.” You add and fiddle with the salt packet lying in front of you. 

“Well, I’m gonna be here for a little bit longer. I don’t start till three, so I can keep you company.” 

“Thanks.” You smile. “Where are you going today?” 

“Just to Greendale and back.” 

“Come round when you finish...we can drink what will be left of the night away.” 

“Deal.” He smiles and grabs your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Sweet Pea’s phone lights up beside you and you peer over his arm to see who it is. 

“Don’t bother.” You say when he reaches for it. “It’s just your mom.” You add when he looks at you confused and his face soon falls. 

“Oh.” He grumbles. “I told her to leave me alone.” 

“I’m sure she’ll get the message soon.” You try your best to sound convincing. But you’ve been repeating that sentence for seven years and she still doesn’t seem to get it. No matter how many times Sweet Pea tells her that he’s better off without her. 

For a while you thought it had worked. Nobody had heard from her in almost 6 months, but then she popped back up and ruined the progress that Sweet Pea had been making of having a stable life. 

“And if not. I’ll make sure she does.” You add making him snort a laugh. A soft smile twitches at your own lips as you watch him laugh and then shove a few fries in his mouth. Your hand reaches out to steal some but he catches it and shoves you away making you pout. “Hey! Technically I paid for those. The least you can do is share.” 

“What?” He asks through a mouthful of food and you pull a face. “I can’t hear you over the chewing.” He adds and shoves the rest of them in his mouth.

“You’re disgusting.” You shake you head making him laugh loudly. For a good minute, everything feels normal. It feels like you’re just sat with your friend and praying for time to slow down so you don’t have to go back to work. 

But eventually time does catch up with you, and as soon as the clock strikes quarter past you have to haul yourself back up, grab your rag and get on. The song on the jukebox flips and you’re suddenly hit with a wave of nostalgia. 

The opening notes float through the air, and all of sudden you can see you and Fangs dancing right in front of you. 

3am in December during a snowstorm. The worst Riverdale had seen for years and the two of you were hiding in the warmth of Pop’s until it went away. You were the only ones in and so Fangs decided to make the most out of the empty diner, and the two of you danced stupidity around the entire place, much to the amusement of the very bored and very tired workers. 

Tears spring to your eyes and you let out a shaky breath before fiddling with your fingers. 

“Y/n?” Sweet Pea asks. “You okay?” You nod and Sweet Pea stares back at you. Your shiny eyes and wobbly lip really doesn’t help your case of ‘i’m over it!’, but for now he decides to leave it. In the three months since you broke up, you’ve already cried more times than he can count, and that’s just at work. He doesn’t want to see you cry again. If he had his way, you’d never cry again. Not ever. 

“I’m fine. I know you think I’m stupid but it’s just how I feel.” You shrug and his expression softens. He grabs your hand, stopping you from walking away and you look at your intwined fingers. 

“I have never once thought you were stupid.” He says seriously and you swallow thickly. “Well, apart from the time I dared you to steal FP’s bike and you actually did it.” He adds, the atmosphere being too serious for the two of you. 

“I never got caught though.” You point your pen at him, a smile curling the corners of your lips and Sweet Pea smiles back at you. 

“It was still stupid.” He replies and you roll your eyes. 

“Hey, Pea?” You ask. “Do you know if Fangs is with anybody. I just, I can’t shake the feeling that somebody else is in my shoes right now. You know, doing all of the stuff we used to do.”  

“I don’t think so.” He shrugs and you nod slowly. 

“Good.” You nod and hold your head higher. “I’m the best he’s ever going to have anyway.” You add making him chuckle. 

“Very true.” He laughs. “Y/n? Do you think you might be-I dunno, maybe just a bit bi-” 

“I’m not bitter.” You defend and he sends you a look. 

“Sure you’re not.” He sips his coffee. “You are dressed in yellow though. And what fruit is yellow?” 

“A le-” 

“A lemon!” He interrupts, a stupid grin taking over his expression as waits for you to answer. 

“Okay.” You nod and grab your notepad from the table. “I’m walking away now. There you go Emma, you can sneak out the back to text a man that is definitely not your husband. 

“Oh, hi.” Someone taps your shoulder as you’re walking away making you quickly spin around. The girls almost walks into you and a string of apologies fall from her mouth as she quickly looks around to make sure no one saw. 

Her brown hair stops at her waist and curls a little bit near the end. Her bright blue eyes sparkle under the florescent lighting, and her pink lips curl into a nervous smile as she looks around. You glance at Sweet Pea and roll your eyes when you see him not so subtly checking her out. 

“Can I help?” You ask and she quickly looks back at you, a bright red blush creeping up her cheeks. 

“Yes. Hi, sorry. I’m Olivia. I start today.” She says and sticks her hand out in front of you. You shake it and send a glare to Sweet Pea who is still checking her out and he rolls his eyes at you before scrolling through his phone. 

“Lovely to meet you Olivia.” You smile. “Follow me and I’ll show you the ropes.” 

“I would so not mind seeing either of you with ropes.” Sweet Pea mumbles and you grit your teeth. 

“Would you excuse me for just a second?” She nods, eyes wide as she watches you slap Sweet Pea over the head with the rag. He jumps and yelps from the sudden attack before rubbing his head and scowling at you. “Okay, where were we?” You ask, a smile returning to her lips as she just stares at you in disbelief. “It’s fine. We’re friends.” You shrug and walk her to the counter. 

“It doesn’t make it okay!” Sweet Pea shouts. 

“Do you want your bill yet...your full one?” You add and he slumps back in his seat, his arms crossed in defeat. 

“Okay, so do you have any waitressing experience?” 

“Yes!” She smiles. “I used to work in a diner like this one back in New York.” She says and your eyes widen at the mention of New York.

“Oh, so you’re an out of towner?” You ask while showing her around. “This is the kitchen. Basically you get an order, you clip it on there and then the food will come through here. The only time we ever really need to go into the kitchen is if there is a mistake or it’s your turn to put the bins out. There’s a rota in the office but I’ll show you that later.” 

“Got it.” She nods. “Yeah. I moved here a few months ago. I’ve been trying to find a job since I moved but there’s only so much you can do in a small town.” She explains and you nod knowingly. 

“Why would you ever leave New York for Riverdale. Did you get lost or something?” You tease and she rolls her eyes playfully. 

“No.” She shakes her head. “I came here just as a little break to get away from the city, and then I met a guy and I haven’t been back.” She says and your eyes widen. 

“You stayed for a boy?” You ask in disbelief and she nods, with an embarrassed smile. “Wow.” You add. “This is the main eating area as you can see. We all have our sections, again, the rota, but you’ll be paired with me for today so you won’t need to know where you are until your next shift. And be warned, if you see him-” You point at Sweet Pea and he waves in return. “Ignore everything he says.” You finish and his face falls. 

“I’m gonna stop keeping you company if you’re not careful.” He huffs and you roll your eyes. 

“How else are you going to spend your free time if not here?” He shrugs and spins around the chair. When you had more friends, you used to need a booth to fit all of you in and even then you had to steal chairs from other tables. Now Sweet Pea just sits on the stools by the till so he can chat to you. 

Sometimes when it’s late and you’re nearing the end of a long shift, you’re sure you can see the ghosts of past versions of yourselves sat in the corner booth. Their laugher filling the air and reminding you of a happier time. 

“You guys are a cute couple.” Olivia coos and you and Sweet Pea stare at each other in disgust. 

“We are not a couple.” You say quickly and distance yourself away from him. 

“You would be lucky to be called my girlfriend.” He says and making you laugh. 

“Yeah, I’m really missing out.” You reply. “We’re not a couple.” You repeat, looking at Olivia this time and she nods while trying to suppress a smile. 

“Got it. Not a couple.” 

“Anyway, tell us about this man that seemingly turned your world upside down.”  

“He’s amazing!” She starts and you suddenly start to regret asking. This is definitely not going to help the ever growing feeling that you’re going to be alone forever. “He recently got a new job as a truck driver. At the minute he’s just doing to make some money, but it’s not what he wants to do. And he got a new little flat with his friend and it’s great. He’s an amazing cook...like the best. And he’s so handsome. Sometimes I look at him and I seriously wonder if he was crafted by God himself. He is that good, he has made me believe in God.”

“...wow.” You choke a little. 

“Yeah...wow.” Sweet Pea adds and the two of you share an impressed look. She chuckles shyly and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. 

“He sounds sweet.” You smile and a blush creeps up her neck as she fiddles with her apron. “Who is he? Maybe I know him.” 

“Fangs. Fangs Fogarty.” She replies and your jaw drops. The cup in your hand wobbles and you scramble to catch it before it smashes on the floor. Olivia quickly moves forward to help you, but you stand up before she has the chance and she’s left awkwardly standing just a bit too close to you. 

Sweet Pea coughs and coffee dribbles down his chin, making both of you look at him and he forces a smile until Olivia is called away. You and Sweet Pea stare at each other for a few seconds, your eyes wide and jaws slack and then you both start an incoherent flow of words as you try and figure out what the hell is going on. 

“I thought you said Fangs wasn’t seeing anyone!” You start and slap him over the head with your rag again. He ducks and catches it, but his face crinkles when he comes in to contact with the soggy fabric and he quickly drops it. 

“He said he wasn’t!” He argues. “I asked him the other day if he was seeing anyone and he said no. It’s not my fault he lied.” He adds and you huff at him, crossing your arms while staring at the door. 

From your peripheral, you watch him roll his eyes and sigh before mumbling a quiet sorry. 

“It’s fine.” You sigh. “It’s not your fault.” The two of you watch her make her wander around the restaurant and talking to a few of the other servers, the smile never leaving her lips and a scowl slowly makes its way onto your own. “If I were her I would start packing my bags already because we all know Fangs does not do commitment. It doesn’t matter if its two months or six years, one day he will just up and leave, turning your whole life upside down because he’s a selfish di-” 

“Okayyyy.” He says and grabs your arm pulling you over the counter. “Y/n, listen to me.” He grabs your cheeks. “You have got to pull yourself together. One. you are much hotter than her. Seriously, I only checked her out once and that was when she first got here. But I check you out literally every time you walk into a room.” 

“Than-” 

“Two. Now that it’s official that Fangs has moved on, it means that you can too and you don’t look like the bad person because he did it first. So Friday night, you’re going to get dressed up and then we’re gonna go to Greendale and go to that club, Brightstars and then you’re gonna get bu-” 

“You don’t need to finish that sentence.” You reply and he nods proudly before letting go. You drop back onto the floor and smooth your uniform out. 

It’s fine, you got this. You can be the bigger person and you can put any petty differences aside for an easy working environment. Fangs has already ruined enough of your life, he doesn’t need to ruin this to. 

Apparently he does though, because not two seconds after you’ve had that life-altering thought, does he walk through the doors of Pop’s. The bell rings to announce his presence and everyone turns to look at him. 

Sweet Pea buries his head in a menu, despite having already eaten. You frantically look around the place to try and find somewhere to hide, but instead you just watch as Olivia’s face lights up as she greets her boyfriend. The two of them kiss, his hands grip her waist and there is far too much tongue involved to be doing it in public. 

Before you can stop yourself, a disgusted expression has already settled on your face and when Olivia turns around to introduce you to him, you try your best to smile through it. 

“Do you guys know each other?” She asks while leading him over to the counter. Sweet Pea shuffles further away and grabs another menu to cover his face. You mumble a few curse words at him and vow than the next break you’re not just going to hit him with the rag, you’re going to choke him with it before you muster the politest smile you possibly can. 

“Yeah. We went to school together!” You say before Fangs can say anything. He looks at you surprised and you narrow your eyes at him before looking back at Olivia. “We all did. Didn’t we Pea.” You add and snatch the menu’s from him. 

He sits up straighter, forcing an awkward smile before nodding slowly. 

“Yeah, we-er. We used to hang out.” He adds and Olivia looks at Fangs surprised. 

“You never mentioned a Y/n and a-” 

“Sweet Pea.” He says and you grab the empty plate and glass from in front of him. 

“Wait, is it because they’re friends with that crazy ex you told me about?” She wonders and you freeze. You raise an eyebrow at him and he gulps. “Fangs used to date this girl and they were together for a really long time, but then he broke up with her because well, I guess he just wanted other things. She was crying and begging him to stay and it was a whole mess. Funny story we met when he was throwing away all her old furniture. I asked him what the smoke was about and he told me he was just burning some bad memories.” She laughs and the glass breaks under your grip. The noise causes you all to jump and suddenly it’s all too much. 

Tears spring to your eyes and you quickly dump the apron on the counter. 

“I’m gonna go clean this, can you cover for me Pea?” You ask and he stands, his face full of concern as he watches you disappear out the back. 

Olivia grabs a dustpan and brush and starts cleaning up while Fangs just stares at the floor. Guilt burrows further into his chest as he stares at the broken glass and his new girlfriend cleaning it up. 

“I didn’t mean to upset her.” She says. “Where they friends or something?” She asks and Sweet Pea shrugs. 

“Yeah, something like that.” He sends Fangs a glare. 

“I’ll go see if she’s okay.” He says suddenly and Sweet Pea’s glare only worsens. 

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” He asks. 

“Nope.” He takes a deep breath before following you through the kitchen and into the office. The door swings open and you sigh, too busy trying to pick glass from your hand to look up at it. 

“I’m fine Sweet Pea. Could you just pass me the first aid box?” 

“Here.” Fangs says and you quickly look up, your eyes widen at the dark haired boy standing in front of you. They soon darken once you snatch the box from him and place it on the desk. 

“What do you want Fangs?” 

“I’m sorry.” He kneels in front of you, forcing you to look at him. The already small office feels suddenly a lot smaller once you look into his eyes and suddenly you feel like you can’t breathe. 

“For what? For breaking my heart, betraying my trust or for telling your new girlfriend, which you found after just a month, that I’m somehow the bad guy in this story?”

“Ye-” 

“You know what Fangs.” You stand and slam the box on the table. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear about you or your new life or how sorry you are. I don’t give a fuck.” You shout and back him into a corner. 

His eyes drop to your lips and your breath hitches under his stare. Was he really thinking about kissing you after everything? But even worse, were you really thinking about letting him? His hands grip your hips, pulling you even closer to him and your lips ghost over his own. 

“Do you think about me when you kiss her?” You whisper in his ear and he nods slowly. “Do you think she can taste me when you kiss her?” You add and his eyes flutter closed. The grip on your hips tighten and he leans in, but the door swings open and he quickly jumps away from you. 

“Sorry to interrupt.” Olivia apologises awkwardly. “Are you guys okay?” 

“Just arguing.” You reply and force a smile. “We’re good now though aren’t we Fangs?” 

“Yeah.” He nods. “Just fine.” 

“Come on Olivia. Tell your boyfriend to get out because we have work to do.” You say and smile at the two of them. They share a look and a short kiss before Fangs disappears back through the kitchen. 

You follow closely and watch from the kitchen door as he looks back one last time before leaving. Olivia forces a tight lipped smile at you before busying herself with cleaning some of the booths down. 

“Sweet Pea?” You ask and he hums in reply. “You’re right...I am bitter.” 

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