#excuse me while I spend the next two days panicking to finish drawing something

[silksongeveryday]

Drawing Hornet everyday until Silksong comes out - Day 398

yep I totally didn’t forget that day 400 is less than two days away and I totally have the thing I was planning for it prepared 👍👍👍👍👍 /sarc

#hollow knight #silksong #hk hornet #hollow knight hornet #silksong hornet #hollow knight fanart #hk fanart #excuse me while I spend the next two days panicking to finish drawing something #/j /j /j #I’ll be fine lol #most of my last minute stuff usually turns out better than if I spend a long time on it anyway

[fandom-imagines-stories]

There With You

Peeta Mellark x Reader

Words: 2532

Summary: A panic attack during the Victor’s tour leaves the reader gasping for breath backstage. Her fiance is able to calm her down, but now she’s afraid that what’s real and what’s pretend will blur together.

Notes: This is another kind of comfort fic based on my own experience, so I hope someone out there can connect with it. I love reading things to help calm myself down, so I hope that my comfort imagines can do that for somebody else. Plus Peeta is one of my comfort characters, so it works out. (Also, the reader has taken Katniss’ place in this scenario. Still love Katniss, but this fit the story)

Warnings: Panic attack, anxiety, the like (This is not a depiction of every kind of panic attack. This is just what I have experienced in the past)

-

None of this was supposed to happen. There wasn’t supposed to be two of you. There weren't supposed to be riots. The romance wasn’t supposed to be real.

Then why was he the only one keeping you from sprinting off that stage?

Peeta’s fingers were intertwined with yours as he spoke to the crowd, keeping you grounded. You tried to focus on the sound of his voice instead of the hundreds of eyes staring up at you. You looked up at the screens and saw her looking back at you. Her. The first person you’d ever killed and you couldn’t even bring yourself to think of her name.

Your breathing hitched and you could feel the squeezing, twisting grip around your throat. No no no not now. Not in front of the entire crowd. What would President Snow do to you if you broke down in front of an entire district? What would he do to Peeta?

“Thank you.” Peeta finished up his speech and a few people in the crowd reluctantly applauded. His eyes locked on your face, seeing a single tear fall down your cheek and he quickly led you off the stage.

He knew that District 9 would be the hardest for you. He still remembered the knife and the blood and the gore. You had killed her to save him. And now you had to live with that for the rest of your life.

The doors closed behind you and you immediately fell back against them, clutching your chest with your free hand. You ripped open the buttons on your high-necked dress, foolishly thinking that it would make it easier to breathe. The invisible hand had closed around your throat, knees crushing down your chest. When you closed your eyes, Clove was on top of you, choking the life out of you slowly, whispering all of the ways she was going to torment Peeta once you were gone.

“Let’s get her out of here.” Haymitch said, his expression a mix of worry and unease. He knew the image of a weak Victor would mean more problems that you weren’t ready to deal with. He remembered what it was like to be under the eye of the Capitol.

“I can’t… I can’t do this. Peeta, I can’t keep-” You gasped in between shaky breaths. Your vision was blurred at the sides and you were gripping the door to keep from collapsing. “I-I-”

“Shh, it’s okay. You don’t have to talk now.” Peeta said, putting a hand on your cheek. “Can you walk to the train?” You nodded, but couldn’t seem to bring your hands away from the door. Peeta looked back at Haymitch and Effie for a moment before turning back to you. “I’m going to carry you, okay?” You must have nodded because he kissed your cheek before scooping you up in his arms.

Your hands released the door and instead latched onto the lapel of his jacket. Every part of you was shaking and the weight on your chest was only getting heavier.

“P-Peeta.” You cried, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes.

“I’ve got you. We’re almost there.” He tried to hide the crack in his voice, trying to be the strong one for you, but seeing you like this split his heart in half. Haymitch and Effie huddled around you, trying to block the two of you from any prying eyes or cameras.

You didn’t notice when they finally got you onto the train. In your head, you were still on that stage, staring out at the little brothers of the girl you murdered. You thought for sure you were suffocating. Every breath was becoming harder and more painful than the last and the blackness at the edge of your vision was growing.

Peeta sat down, holding you in his lap and gently stroking his fingers through your hair.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe. You aren’t in the arena. You’re here with me.” He buried his face in your neck, gently pressing a kiss to the place between your shoulder and your spine. “You’re with me.”

“I’ll never leave that arena.” You whispered, your voice so quiet you weren’t sure if he even heard you.

This was far from the first attack you’d had since winning the games, but it was certainly the worst.

Haymitch and Effie just watched you with sympathetic eyes for a moment before leaving the two of you alone. Peeta held you tight until your breathing started to return to a steady pace. While your vision cleared, your body couldn't stop shaking and you couldn’t seem to pry your hands away from his jacket.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffed, trying to wipe panicked tears away on your sleeve.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I shouldn’t have made you go out there with me. I knew what it was going to be like for you and I should have-”

“They wouldn’t have let you go out there alone.” You shook your head. “There’s no hiding from them, Peeta.” You repeated your words like an echo, over and over again. “I’ll never leave that arena.”

“Then I’m right there with you.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and stood up, keeping you pressed against his chest. “Come on, we should try and get some sleep before we reach the next District.”

He carried you to your compartment and tucked you under the covers. He crawled up beside you without you having to ask. It had become an unsaid thing between the two of you. You kept the nightmares away as best as you could and when one of you woke up afraid, you weren’t alone.

-

Peeta had proposed for the cameras the day you left for the Victor’s tour, but it was all for show. The Capitol ate it up. When you really said yes, it was a week prior, just the two of you in the calming quiet in a meadow outside of the fence. It meant more that way.

Of course, Effie had picked out an extravagant ring for you to wear on stage and everything. It was gaudy and heavy and enough jewels to feed three districts for a month. But like the faked proposal, it wasn’t what was real.

You twisted the small bronze band around your finger, examining it in the faint light coming through the train windows. You had been awake for about an hour now, but Peeta’s peaceful sleep kept you from stirring. You rested in the warmth of his embrace and listened carefully to the slow, comforting sound of his heart beat.

You wanted to stay in this moment forever.

“Rise and shine you two.” Effie burst through the door and Peeta instantly went rigid beneath you, jolting up and pushing you behind him. You couldn’t see his face, but his expression frightened Effie. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think, I-”

“No, Effie, it’s okay. Really.” He said apologetically, his expression softening. “We’ll be out for breakfast in a second.”

“Alright. Don’t be long. I know they want to do a feature on engaged life. A little romance might be just what you two need.” She gave you both a small smile before walking out, the door sliding shut behind her. Peeta laid back on his elbows, blowing out a low sigh.

“I didn’t mean to scare her. I just heard the door open and all I could think was that someone was here to take you away.” He pulled you back down to him and gently pressed his lips to yours. Truthfully, he’d been in the middle of a nightmare when he heard Effie enter. He thought that the images in his head were becoming real.

“She’ll be okay.” You concluded, drawing circles on his chest . “Effie is tougher than she seems. And she knows what we’ve been through.” Despite her bright and sometimes obnoxiously optimistic attitude, you knew that Effie wasn’t a mindless pawn from the Capitol. She saw what the games did to you. She saw the children behind the victors.

Breakfast was mostly had in a settled quiet. While neither of you said anything, Haymitch glanced over at you and you nodded to let him know that you were okay. It was that silent understanding that was the foundation of your relationship with your former mentor.

“They’re doing an update interview to see how the Capitol’s darling lovebirds have been enjoying their tour.” Haymitch said gruffly. “Which means lots of blushing and doe-eyes from you two.”

“That won’t be hard.” Peeta noted, looking over at you. He meant it sweetly, but something about it sent a shiver of dread down your spine. You ignored it, giving him a small smile.

“It’s comforting to know we won’t need to convince anybody of the whole hopeless romantic thing.” Haymitch made a face. “You two do a wonderful job of making me nauseous all on your own.” Effie smacked him with her rolled up napkin.

“I think it’s wonderful.” She mused dreamily. “How something like that could bring you together.”

You stiffened, keeping your eyes on your plate, pushing your eggs around mindlessly with your fork. Sometimes you forgot that this was still all a TV show for people to gawk at. You would be the star crossed lovers from District 12 for the rest of your lives. No amount of real emotion you felt for Peeta was going to erase that.

The other three seemed to notice your shift and finished their meal in silence. Haymitch excused himself to the dining car for likely the rest of the day and Effie left to work on the speeches you’d have to read in front of District 8. You hadn’t eaten a bite, opting to sip slowly at your coffee instead.

“Just a few more days and we’ll get to go home.” Peeta said, noticing your empty stare and untouched meal. You just nodded, not really hearing him.

-

“So tell us, Peeta, when did you know that you wanted to propose?” Caesar grinned into the camera.

“Honestly, I knew the moment we stepped out of the arena that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.” Peeta gave your hand a squeeze and looked at you with complete and utter adoration. Caesar gasped in awe, eating up the fluffy romance that Peeta was perfect at portraying.

Is that all this is? The thought penetrated your mind before you could stop it. A performance? Is everything he says for the sake of the camera?

“I’m not sure if I’ll ever forgive you for not including me in the moment, Peeta.” Caesar pouted. “But it was just so sweet I can’t stay mad at you!” The two laughed and you forced a loving smile. “Really, proposing in front of the bakery just before you left for the tour- why, it’s probably the most romantic thing I have ever seen.”

“I’m glad it came off that way, because I was a nervous wreck!” Peeta exclaimed and they laughed again. You had to admire his acting ability. Maybe that’s what scared you so much.

He’s just performing. Is he performing with you?

“I think we all want to know,” Caesar beamed, turning his attention to you, “what was going through your head, Y/N? When Peeta got down on one knee?”

You pushed any doubt from your head and just focused on everything you knew was real. “Honestly, Caesar, I can’t think of a happier moment in my life. I never knew what I was missing until we found each other.”

“Don’t these two just make you believe in love, Claudius?” He gushed to his costar. “We’ll let the two of you get back to your tour, but I can’t say how excited we are to have you all to ourselves here in the Capitol.”

“We can’t wait.” Peeta grinned. You both smiled broadly, waiting for the little red recording light to turn off. As soon as the cameras were gone, Peeta lifted your hand up to his lips. “That went well.” He muttered against the skin of your palm.

“Yeah. I think they definitely believe that we’re the perfect couple.” You hadn’t meant to say it so bitterly, but as soon as the words left your mouth, Peeta’s expression changed.

“What’s wrong?” His eyes were different, the charisma that was there with Caesar was gone. His worry seemed to stem from something real, but you just couldn’t convince yourself that it was.

“Nothing.” None of this is real. It’s all just the games. What if you’re still in the arena? What if this is all in your head? You broke away from him, trying to hide the panic growing and growing inside you until it was all you could feel. You could hear him saying your name, but it sounded garbled and far away, like he was whispering in the rain.

What seized you now was unlike you’d ever felt before. Not only was it the dark panic that blurred your vision and tightened your throat until you couldn’t breathe- it was a complete disconnect from reality. It was like you were trapped inside one of their screens and you were banging on the glass, trying to get out.

-

You didn’t realize you had fainted until you woke up in Peeta’s arms. His was sitting up, cradling you in his lap like he had before, only now you were in your room and you had a blanket draped around your shoulders. You jerked away, your mind still terrified that even this wasn’t real.

“Woah, hey it’s okay. I’m right here.”

“This isn’t real. None of this is real.” You whispered in a panic, still trying to push away from him. This was the Capitol. They were in your head. “You aren’t real.” As hard as you shoved against him, his strong arms were locked around you. He pressed a kiss to your temple, holding you closer.

“I’m right here. I’m real. Just breathe. Come on, stay with me.” While his voice was soothing, your vision was still blurred with hot tears.

“We can never escape this. Every second of our lives belongs to them. Nothing is real. It’s all theirs.”

Peeta pulled away, taking your hand in his. He slid the bronze ring off your finger and held it up.

“This is ours. It’s not Snow’s, it’s not the Capitol’s, it’s ours. It’s real and it’s ours.” He put the ring back on and moved your hand to his chest. You could feel his heart beating beneath your fingertips. “I’m real,” He looked at you with a gentle and yet intense love, “and I am completely yours.”

You wiped away your tears and laid a hand on his cheek. “Peeta-”

“And no matter the nightmare, no matter the fear, or when your mind takes you back to the games, just remember I will always be there with you.”

He pulled you back to him and the two of you remained- away from the cameras and away from the Capitol. At least for now, you weren’t victors. You were a boy and a girl who had saved each other.

#peeta mellark #peeta mellark x reader #hunger games #catching fire #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #the hunger games imagine #josh hutcherson

[xiaojusaur]

Let’s Get Wet

Johnny x Reader

1769 words

Smut

TW: fiction, mentions of masturbation, fingering, shower sex, unprotected sex

Neo Smut Collective drabble Wet & Wild

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵

Your brother’s best friend was hot and it couldn’t be denied. Every time he stayed in your house your knees trembled from the thought of seeing him shirtless. But of course, your brother Jaehyun wouldn’t allow it, so he avoided any possible encounter between you two, because he knew you too well and noticed the way you looked at Johnny.

Many nights, in the darkness of your room, you would moan his name while playing with yourself, imagining it was him.

He was home tonight, your brother along some friends had a camping at the beach the next day and since they were leaving early, they were all staying together.

You went to take a shower so you could go to sleep refreshed. You opened the bathroom door and gasped when meeting with an almost-naked Johnny, covering his bottom part with a towel. “OH MY GOD IM SO SORRY!” You screamed in horror, quickly covering your eyes with one arm and closing the door with the other.

“It’s okay, I’m almost finished,” he said with his mellow voice and you saw him open the door again. His hair was shiny from the water and the droplets ran down his toned body. It was everything you imagined in your wildest dreams.

You were panicking, looking everywhere but to him. If your brother caught you, he would either kill you or Johnny.

Johnny was styling his hair in the foggy mirror, running his fingers through his dark, silky mane.

Without noticing, you were staring at him to which he smirked through the mirror. “Like what you see?” He chuckled.

“Very, very much!” You wanted to scream, but you just stuttered, “N-not bad.”

“Please, Y/N, I know how you feel about me. Do you think I don’t notice how you look at me?” He said in a racy voice.

You were shocked to hear those words, were you that obvious?

Johnny extended his arm and pulled you inside the bathroom with him, pushing you against the door, locking it before anyone noticed. He caged you against his body, looking at you with fire in his eyes.

His lips were so inviting, his wet body so tantalizing.

“Tell me, Y/N,” he whispered looking at you fiercely, “do you like me?”

“I- Johnny... Jaehyun wouldn’t allow it...” you explained just to not give him an answer.

“That’s not what I asked,” he said groggily, grabbing your wrist, somehow intimidating you.

“I like you, yeah. A lot,” you confessed.

“I know you do. Do you think I haven’t heard you moaning my name in the middle of the night?” He was making you flustered and was enjoying it.

You tried to talk, to make an excuse, but nothing came out, so you just lowered your gaze.

“Look at me, baby girl,” he took you by the chin to make you look into his eyes. “You’re so naughty. Touching yourself while thinking about your brother’s best friend. What would he think if he found out? Hmm?” He teased you.

“He would be angry, with you and with me both,” you said daring.

“What do you imagined? Tell me what do you think about in the darkness of your room,” he started getting close to your lips. Even though he was wet from the shower, you could feel the heat of his body.

Even though it seemed surreal, two could play this game. “I imagine its your fingers touching me, reaching deep inside. Your body on mine, your lips kissing my neck, while you fill me whole with your cock.”

“Fuck...” he said under his breath. You could feel his hardened member poking your thigh, which made you bite your bottom lip.

“Are you okay with me making it a reality?” He asked for your consent before making any move. So sexy!

“Yeah, of course!” You said desperately.

His expression changed to one full of lust, devouring you with his eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please...” you whispered and Johnny didn’t waste any second in crashing his lips with yours. They felt like you imagined, so meaty, so soft. His hand ran down your torso, skillfully pulling the elastic of your pijama pants, arriving to your heat easily.

“Oh? No panties? Such a naughty girl,” he said with a croaky voice.

“I was going to shower, plus, I was about to slee- Oh God!” He interrupted sliding a finger between your folds.

“Shhh... you don’t want Jaehyun to find us, right?” While drawing circles on your clit, he started kissing you again to drown your moans. “Fuck, you’re so wet...”

“Mmm! I wanted you so much, Johnny.”

“Shit... get undressed, baby. Let’s get into the shower,” he commanded and you did as told.

He opened the shower again and then let the towel that was covering his lower part fall, revealing his strong thighs, his big member standing proudly, waiting for you.

“Are you not coming?” He extended his hand, inviting you into the shower with him.

You took his hand, hypnotized by his beauty. He looked like an underwater god.

Under the shower, you two kissed like if it was something natural between you. He ran his hands down your body, kneading every inch of your skin, turning you on more, if that was possible.

Johnny pinned you against the shower wall and guided by lust, his hand reached to your heat. His fine fingers found your hole expertly, making you moan lowly, “Oh~”

He flexed his fingers inside you, back and forth, fast and deep, your eyes crossing from pleasure.

“Fuck, Johnny,” you whimpered in a whisper, trying to keep it low so nobody would notice what was happening. The water running down your body was a plus to the feeling and Johnny looked so sexy huffing to take the drops out of his face. You reached for his member that was begging for attention too, pumping your hand up and down slowly.

“Ah~ Feels nice, baby,” he gave you a naughty smile. “I wonder what that mouth could do,” He was suggesting something.

“You want me to suck you off?” You asked, sounding more like an offer than a question.

“We can do that later, you might hurt yourself here, but I appreciate the offer,” he said and then leaned in for a kiss. “Now, come here. Im gonna fuck you, I’ll make your dreams come true,” he said as he grabbed your leg.

“God, I’m so wet, I can’t wait...” you confessed.

“I love making you this way,” he winked, making you laugh. “You okay with this, right?”

“Please...” you begged desperately.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” he groaned.

He placed your leg on his arm, letting it hang. With his other hand, he held his member firmly to look for your entrance. Your breath accelerated, you were getting ready to receive his all. He was teasing you and enjoying your reaction while he was rubbing your clit with his tip. He entered in you slowly, torturing, so deliciously. The stretch was burning, you wanted to scream but you suppressed it squeezing his bicep, holding on tightly to not faint. “Fuuuck~” you whispered in a breathy moan.

“Mmm... baby, you’re so tight,” he pecked your lips and moved down to kiss your neck, letting you adjust to him.

A few seconds later, he started moving back and forth. You wrapped your arms around his neck, while he held you by the waist. The scene belonged to a movie, with you two connecting while the water ran down your bodies. Every time he huffed or moaned, the drops flew to your face. The sounds coming from where you two united were obscene, making you want more from him.

“God! Johnny!” You moaned a little too loud.

“Shhh...”

Johnny then picked you up, holding you midair, without stopping from thrusting you. The movement made him reach deeper inside you, touching that supple place that made your toes curls. You gasped and he chuckled.

He was going faster now, making you bounce on his dick by moving you up and down. The slapping sound invaded the tiny space of the bathroom and now you were just praying that your brother didn’t go out of his room, otherwise he would be able to hear everything.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” you said in a chant of whines.

He grunted loudly, his voice echoing in the room. “Shit! So good, you’re taking me so well!”

“Ah! Yes! Yes! Please!” You hissed.

After a few minutes his arms got tired, so he put you on the floor again and then he turned you around, making you hold yourself from the tile wall. He put his big hand on the small of your back as to make you bend, kneading your skin on the process. Johnny penetrated you again, now holding you by the waist with both hands.

The slapping sound of your bodies clashing increased by the minute of how fast Johnny was going and the water was making it louder. You were feeling your orgasm bubbling from your stomach and you let him know. “Johnny, I’m gonna cum, please!”

“Mmm... good!” He focused his thrusts to reach deeper and consistent to help you reach your high.

You felt it, the explosion of delicious tingles through your body, escaping in a simple sigh from your lips. Johnny held you tightly, helping you to stay on your feet. He kept plunging into you until he felt his high coming too. He pulled out and came on the floor, every proof of what had happened there going down the drain along with the water.

“Babe, we should get out of here. Your fingers should be pruning by now,” he said as he wrapped his arms around your torso and kissed your neck.

“Yeah, plus, it will be a little suspicious if you spent so much time in the bathroom,” you added.

“Nah! I actually spend a lot of time in the bathroom. I’m just worried that someone might have heard us...”

“Hopefully not...”

After you dried yourselves and were dressed again, Johnny said, “Maybe we can repeat this someday?”

“Anytime,” you winked and he smirked back at you.

But as soon as Johnny opened the door he found a Jaehyun leaning on the wall, waiting for him to get out. “Enjoyed your shower?” He sounded so pissed, you didn’t even want to look.

Your brother then pushed the door open, revealing you in the bathroom too. You gave him the bread smile, trying to act innocent. “Get out of there, we gonna talk about this, you two.”

#neosmutcollective #ncswetnwild #ksmutclub #nct writers #nct johnny #johnny smut #nct smut #nct imagines #nct 127 #johnny suh #johnny x reader #kpop imagines #nct scenarios #fanfic

[multimilfs]

Miranda Priestly x Fem!Reader: A Little Nudge

Summary: Anon requested “Could I request a slightly angsty Miranda Priestly X Reader? Maybe the reader is in the hospital (it's up to you why they're there) and they're panicking because they think they're gonna get fired. Miranda can replace them within the hour, after all.Miranda shows up to the hospital after hearing what happened and reassures Reader that they're fine. She confesses to the Reader because she was so scared something horrible had happened to them and she was gonna lose them. (sorry im just in a sad mood and im weak for hospital scenes)”

A/N: It’s been ages since I’ve written for TDWP so be kind to me, please! I really hope you like it!

Tag List: @ghostsunderstoodmysoul​ @multifandomfix​

Warning(s): None

“Why is nobody ready?”

Miranda drawled from behind her desk, glancing at her watch with annoyance. Everyone near her held their breath; nobody having the guts to tell her that it was because you weren’t back yet. 

You were supposed to be back with the accessories from D&G ten minutes ago.

Jocelyn and the run-through team exchanged terrified glances. Someone was going to lose their job today. And knowing Miranda, it was going to be one of them.

They had been relying on the accessories to complete the outfits they’d prepared. An abysmal thing to do, but you’d promised that you would be back early. Now you were nowhere to be found.

Miranda was conveniently unaware of your absence. She was under the impression you weren’t supposed to be back for some time, thanks to a few carefully worded statements from Nigel. If she got wind that you’d gone awol, it’d be hell on earth for everyone in the Runway offices.

Standing beside Miranda’s desk, Nigel saw Serena approach the office. The model stopped when Nigel shook his head. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Talk to Emily.” He mouthed silently.

She did just that, turning elegantly on her heel to see the Brit dialing numbers frantically. Poor Emily hadn’t even noticed that Serena was there.

“Why is Nigel telling me to talk to you?” Serena asked softly.

Emily startled slightly, before looking relieved to have some type of help. She put the phone down on the hook quickly.

“Y/N has vanished,” Emily whispered, “I can’t get her to answer her bloody cell phone and she was supposed to be here ages ago!”

“What do you mean she vanished? She doesn’t vanish.” Serena asked.

“You’re telling me. Jocelyn needed the accessories from the winter collection for the run-through and she promised to have them here. Miranda is two minutes from firing them all if we don’t come up with an excuse.”

Emily let her head fall into her hands, repeating her low mantra that she loved her job. Today was not going to be an easy one, it seemed.

A moment before Serena could suggest anything, Miranda’s cold voice echoed from her office.

“So what I’m hearing is that you failed to prepare? After I gave you countless days to finish a simple task.” Miranda asked.

Everyone winced at the chill in her voice. La Priestly wasn’t known for being warm, but this felt like frost-bite.

“We’re just missing the accessories for a few of the outfits.” Jocelyn offered.

Miranda’s hard gaze settled on the girl, making her regret speaking. Drawing attention to herself was the last thing she should have done.

“‘Just’ the accessories,” The editor said dryly, “If you were to go skydiving, I’m sure you’d be fine without a parachute then?”

Jocelyn shook her head quickly. The only way out of this would be for a miracle to strike. She was mentally kissing her job goodbye.

Then Emily’s cell phone rang.

Scrambling for the device, she could have jumped for joy to see your name on the caller ID. She was furious, mind you, but glad to see you were okay.

“Where the bloody hell are you?” Emily hissed in lieu of a greeting.

“Em, I can explain-“

“I’m sure you can, but it better be good or I’m throwing you La Priestly.”

“I’m in the hospital.” You said.

Emily inhaled sharply. She didn’t miss the way your voice cracked over those few words. It may mean more work for her, but an injury like that could cost you your job.

“What did you get yourself into?” Emily asked.

“The heat today exascerbated something and I collapsed, the doctors are running tests now.” You explained softly, lacking the energy you normally had.

Serena watched worriedly as Emily put her forehead down on the desk, letting out a defeated sigh. This felt like the icing on the cake of an already terrible day. She had no idea how to break it to Miranda. The woman was practically reliant on you and your abilities.

“Em?” You whispered over the line brokenly, “Tell Miranda I can have my desk cleared once I’m d-discharged, okay? I understand-“

“No. You-You don’t get to abandon me so close to Paris. I’ll find a way to fix this…”

“It’s okay. I understand what it takes to be one of Miranda’s girls. Collapsing on the job isn’t part of the description.”

“She can make an exception.” Emily snapped.

You sighed on the other end. It broke your heart that you’d probably lose everything now, but you understood that Miranda was far too busy to accept an injured assistant. Even if you did hope that she cared enough to keep you on.

“Do what you can, okay? Just don’t get yourself sacked. I’m at Presbeterian, room 311.”

There were a few more words exchanged before Emily hung up the phone, looking hard at Serena, who stared back with concern.

“Y/N is in the hospital.” She said quietly.

Serena stood with a look of shock on her face. What could have happened to put you in the hospital?

“How are you going to tell Miranda?” She asked instead.

“Beats me, but someone has to.” Emily laughed bitterly.

She stood and walked to the doorway of Miranda’s office, where the woman was regaling Nigel with the incompetence of her staff, who were standing in the room. Nigel noticed Emily and raised an eyebrow in question, to which she shook her head. His face seemed to pale.

Unsure of what to do or say, Emily remained standing in the doorway. She kept her hands clasped in front of her to keep from ringing them.

“Is there a reason for your hovering, Emily?” Miranda asked, her icy gaze resting on her poor assistant.

“Um, well.” She tried, but nothing came out. She froze.

“Do take your time. None of us have jobs to do.”

The editor rolled her eyes, a devious smirk resting on her face. She drew a sort of horrible glee from seeing her employees squirm.

“Y/N is in the hospital.” Serena said.

Any movement in the room stopped immediately. The run-through team held their breath, looking to Miranda.

Upon hearing the words, Miranda felt her heart drop into her stomach. Her hands gripped the edge of her desk hard. Besides something happening to her daughters, something happening to you had become her worst nightmare.

“Excuse me?” She asked, tone just above a whisper.

“She’s conscious, she called to let me know herself where she was,” Emily rushed out, before anyone could make the situation worse, “Something occurred that caused her to collapse, but-“

“I’ve heard enough.”

Miranda was out of her seat the second Emily mentioned that you were awake. That you weren’t gravely injured or in a coma. Her fear eased slightly, but it wouldn’t vanish until she saw you. She was barreling through the office without a care for what was on her agenda.

“Cancel any meetings for the rest of the day and get Roy here immediately. I want access to her room upon my arrival; I don’t care what favors you have to promise or whose egos you have to stroke, get me into that room.”

She snatched her coat and purse from Serena’s hands, rattling off the demands without slowing her pace. Then she was ensconced in the elevator while everyone looked at one another in shock.

“Do you think she’s going to fire her?” Emily asked Nigel, who laughed.

“I think that is the last thing she plans on doing. Now I’d get on the phone with Roy…”

Eyes widening, Emily let out a yelp, rushing towards her desk. Nigel just shook his head; of course Miranda would hold out on her feelings until you fell injured. She apparently just needed that final nudge. 

———

In your hospital room, you were trying valiantly to hold back tears. Your head was leant back against the pillows, eyes closed. All you could see was Miranda’s face in your mind.

You weren’t sure what happened; one second you were walking down 35th, the next a paramedic was standing over you hounding you for information. If you hadn’t been in an ambulance racing through traffic, you would have demanded they let you out. You had a job to do.

Now, you couldn’t. You had let down the editorial team and Miranda by proxy. It hurt you in a million different ways, but you accepted that you were out of a job. That you would no longer spend the days around the woman you secretly loved.

It sent a pang of pain through your chest. You squeezed your eyes shut against it. Remaining strong, even now, was important to you. It wouldn’t do to let your resolve crumble.

Absentmindedly, you heard someone walk into your room. You let out a loud sigh.

“Look, doc, I told you I’m fine. My head may be throbbing, but I’m not going to die on you. Though I may if I don’t get something other than hospital food.” You laughed.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

You snapped your eyes open at the voice that was clearly not your doctor’s. Standing there, looking divine as ever, was Miranda Priestly. The woman you were hopelessly in love with.

“Miranda?”

“No, Donald Trump.” She deadpanned, a smirk pulling at her mouth.

Did Miranda Priestly just make a joke? Your mind asked, though you couldn’t stop the grin that spread on your face. She looked pleased at your reaction.

“You didn’t have to come all this way, you know,” You said softly, reality creeping back in, “I told Emily that I could have my desk cleared as soon as they discharged me.”

“I beg your pardon?” Miranda said, feeling as if the breath had been stolen from her lungs.

“I know how busy your schedule is- Hell, I arranged it. You didn’t have to come all the way here to let me go.”

“Is that why you think I’m here? To fire you?”

“...Isn’t it?”

Miranda let out a hollow sounding laugh, pinching the bridge of her nose. You watched her with thinly veiled confusion. Then she walked to your bedside, hesitantly placing her hand on top of yours. Your heart stopped.

“Silly girl,” Miranda said softly, “Do you think I would come here for something as menial as that? Do you think I’d race here, heart pounding with fear, to fire you?”

You felt like you were in a dream. Given that you were in a hospital, it didn’t seem too outlandish that you were imagining it. But when Miranda leant in and placed a soft kiss on your lips, you knew this was reality. This was no mere dream.

She made to pull away from you, offended at your lack of response, but you wouldn’t let her. Grabbing the lapels of her blazer, you dragged her lips back to yours for a long kiss.

When you finally separated, you felt like you were riding a cloud. This was never what you expected to happen. It was wilder than your wildest dreams.

“So… I take it I’m not fired?” You asked with a cheeky smile.

And so overcome with happiness, Miranda let her normal mask drop, throwing her head back and letting out a joyful laugh.

#miranda priestly #miranda priestly x reader #tdwp #the devil wears prada #miranda priestly imagine #tdwp imagine #tdwp x reader #the devil wears prada imagine #wlw #wlw imagine #jan2021 #multimilfswritings

[skzvibes]

It's not like you're in love

pairing: bang chan x reader

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: intense make out, mentions of nudity, mentions of sex (not explicit smut tho)

word count: 4,6K

a/n: sorry if you find mistakes or typos, English is not my first language so this won't be perfect <3

You met him because you started working on JYP as a staff.

You were almost always working with Stray Kids, so you got close to them and, after a few weeks, you were already friends.

But with Chan was different than with the rest of the members

You have always looked at each other in a different way

And even if you said that you were just best friends, even the members knew that you were just avoiding your feelings

"Are you still here? I need you in my studio." That was the text Chan had just sent you. Yes, you were still in the JYP building where you worked, and even if you were about to leave to go home, you immediately headed to his studio. You adored those moments when you two were alone because he wanted your opinion about his new song or maybe just some company while he was working. You had a special friendship with him even if you had not known each other for that long, and you did not expect that at all when you started working in JYP as a staff member.

When you got there, you knocked at the door, and you heard him saying that it was open. You smiled right when you entered the room. It was kind of cold and dark. The only light was from the computer screen, which let you see his silhouette. You got closer to him and sat in the chair next to his, knowing that he was probably finishing something and he would look at you in a few seconds. And that is what happened. He typed something, and then he took off his headphones to look at you. He smiled and hugged you quickly before handing you the headphones.

"Thank you for coming. Did I stop you from going home?" He asked, looking worried.

"Yes, but you know I don't mind," you smiled and put on the headphones. Chan smiled and played the track he wanted you to listen to. You had the same conversation every day he asked you to go to his studio, but he still felt guilty.

Chan observed you while you listened to the song. The first time he asked for your opinion, you were so serious while listening to the song that he thought you didn't like it, but now he knows that it's just because you want to listen to it carefully so you can say something more than "I like it", and, to him, it's the cutest thing ever.

When it finished, you took off the headphones and stayed quiet for a few seconds before talking.

"I think it's good, but... Don't be mad, but it sounds kinda similar to the last one." You said, and looked up to him, hoping that he wasn't angry at you. You knew he wanted your sincere opinion, but sometimes it scared you that he could get angry or hurt. But he sighed and nodded, resting his back on the chair backrest.

"That's what I thought," he said, staring at his computer. You felt bad for not being able to help him out.

"Maybe you could ask Jisung or Changbin for help. They're way better than me at producing songs, and I'm sure they can give you a better opinion." He looked at you as you continued. "Honestly, I don't know why you ask for my opinion." You laughed, making him laugh too.

"I don't know, it helps to have different points of view, you know?" He said, and you thought that was all but he continued. "And I like spending time with you, so it's kind of an excuse." He added smiling and observed how your cheeks turned pink.

"Me too." You said softly, and after that, you both stayed quiet, the only sound in the room was the buzzing of his laptop, and your eyes locked.

And then he leaned in, slowly. As he got closer, you could smell his cologne, and your heart started to beat faster, not knowing what his next move would be. And when all you could see was him, you stopped feeling your body, you couldn't hear the buzzing of the laptop, and the room didn't feel cold anymore, but warm.

And he kissed you.

His plump lips brushed yours softly and carefully, making you close your eyes. He tasted like mint. At first, your noses touched but then he tilted his head so he would be able to kiss you more confortably. But as he did that, he noticed what he was doing and stopped the kiss. You opened your eyes and took a deep breath. Your eyes connected.

"I'm sorry, are you sure you-" He started, and you answered by kissing him more. You placed your hands on his shoulders and made him rest his back on the chair again, at the same time that you stood up to sit on his lap. You started running your fingers through his hair, and he held the back of your neck to keep you close with one hand while he placed the other one on your thigh.

Your heart was about to explode, and you felt dizzy as you tried to process what was happening. But you just couldn't. All you could feel and think about was him. At one certain moment, his lips were around your bottom lip, and he bit it, taking you by surprise and making you let out a little moan. Then, you two needed to breathe, so you pulled away.

"We can stop if you-" He started again, and you rolled your eyes, placing your hand against his mouth.

"Can you please stop acting as if I don't want this as much as you do?" You whispered, and you felt his smile grow against your hand. Then you placed it in his shoulder again and leaned closer to him. "Because I do." His pupils dilated, and he connected your lips. His hands started rubbing your back and went further down to the end of your t-shirt.

"Take it off." You mumbled softly against his lips, knowing that it would lead to much more that night.

Two weeks later...

"Chan, we should get dressed." You whispered against his chest. It's not that you wanted to do it, but you were in his studio and it wasn't exactly private.

"Five minutes more, I promise." He said, and he kept drawing figures with his fingers in your naked back. You nodded and closed your eyes. You've never felt so relaxed and at peace in your whole life.

It had been two weeks since you and Chan started... whatever it was. And it was great, but you hadn't even talked about it, and you didn't know how to bring it up. Because you appreciated him so much and you didn't know how to tell him that you had fallen in love with him without ruining your friendship. Maybe, if you had noticed that you were in love with him earlier, you wouldn't have started this "friends with benefits" thing. But now you just couldn't help it. You liked him so much that you didn't want to lose what you had.

After a few minutes, you got up from his lap, making him groan.

"It's been like two minutes, not five." He whined. You let out a little laugh and hurried in getting dressed because it was cold without him hugging you.

"Chan, someone could show up here at any moment, and I don't want any of the boys to find out about us like that." He sighed but, knowing that you were right, he stood up too and started putting his clothes on. "Are you going to the dorms now?" You asked him.

"No, I think I'm gonna stay for a while. I got a bit distracted by you the last hour." He joked.

"And you dare to say that it's my fault. I will not come the next day you text me." You teased him. He smirked and got closer to hug you.

"We'll see." You locked eyes for a few seconds. You wanted to say it. I love you.

But you didn't.

"Goodnight, don't leave too late. You need to sleep too, superhero." You kissed his cheek and turned around to leave, but he held your wrist.

"What kind of goodnight kiss is that?" You laughed and pecked his lips. When you pulled away, he smiled at you. "That's better."

"You're unbelievable." You walked towards the door. "Goodnight, Chan."

"Night Y/n" he answered, and you closed the door.

When you got home, you took your clothes off and put on your pajamas. After that, you went to the bathroom to remove your makeup, and you saw yourself in the mirror. You were smiling widely, and you hadn't even noticed it. Of course, it was because of Chan. The last two weeks had probably been the best weeks of your life. And you wanted more of that. You wanted to know if he felt the same way you did when you were together. That's why you decided to talk with Chan the next day.

"Come on, you can do it." You encouraged yourself. You had been in front of the practice room's door for about ten minutes. You could hear them practicing inside. It's not that hard, just open it.

And you did it, making everyone in the room look at you. Chan smiled instantly, and the others were surprised but happy to see you too.

"Hey Y/n, what are you doing here?" Jisung asked you, and he got closer to you to hug you. Jisung was one of your best friends, even though you haven't been able to spend a lot of time together lately.

"Hi, everyone. I wanted to talk with you, Chan. If you can." You said, looking at him. He nodded and indicated the rest to practice the choreography while he talked to you. You walked to a corner where they wouldn't hear you, and he looked at you, waiting for you to talk.

This wasn't a good idea.

"Well, umm..." You looked down and started playing with your fingers as you got more nervous every second. "You know we've been... spending time together..." He chuckled at your way to call it but he let you continue. You took a deep breath and looked at him in the eyes. "What are we, Chan?" You asked, and his smile faded away as soon as you did it.

No, this definitely wasn't a good idea.

"Why are you asking me that?" He asked, frowning. He looked so confused, and you didn't know how to explain it. You started looking around, avoiding looking at him, wishing you never started that conversation.

"I... I just thought... I don't know, we're not friends but- " You tried to speak, but he interrupted you.

"We aren't?" he asked, and you panicked since he misunderstood you.

"That's not what I meant. I mean... We are friends, but we aren't just friends?" You tried to explain, but you didn't even know what you were saying.

"I swear I don't understand what-" He started, and you decided to go straight to the point.

"God, I like you, ok?" You let out, and his eyes widened. "I like you. And not just as a friend." You finished, and he sighed. He looked at the boys making sure they weren't listening, and then he looked at you again.

"Y/n, I don't know if you misunderstood but... I do like spending time with you but that's it..." You felt how your eyes watered, but you held back your tears. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you... God." He stopped talking and massaged his temples. "What I mean is... We aren't dating" And you hoped that was all he had to say so you could leave, but it wasn't. "And we won't. We can't have another type of relationship." He added, and you felt as if someone had just stabbed you in your heart. You waited a few seconds to answer because you were afraid that your voice would crack.

"No, I understand. It's fine." You finally said, but when he tried to reach out to you and hold your arm, you took a step back. He looked worried. "Umm... I have to leave now." You said, walking backward. You just wanted to get out of there.

"Y/n..." He tried to stop you from leaving but at that point, the boys were looking at you, confused.

"No, really, you never said you..." You stopped there, you couldn't talk with the boys listening, but you knew he had understood you. "It's okay. We're still friends." He nodded slowly, but he wasn't sure that you meant it.

"Then... We're fine?" he asked you again before you left.

"Yes, sure." You reassured him, and then you walked out of the room as fast as you could, leaving the boys, especially Chan, so confused. He tried to continue practicing, but he just couldn't stop thinking about your watery eyes. He couldn't take your sad expression out of his head. He tried to explain it to you without hurting you. But you said everything was fine, right? Maybe you just needed some time to think. Everything will be the same tomorrow. He said to himself.

Too bad he was wrong.

The next day he didn't see you for the whole day, and since he didn't want you to feel pressured, he didn't text you when he used to do it. But the same happened two days later. The third one he tried to text you, but you left him on read. The fourth one, you replied to his message saying that you had some stuff to do and you couldn't meet him. He started to feel worried. And he missed you a lot. Not only having sex with you but everything. Chan missed spending the evenings with you in his studio, listening to his new songs or recommending music to each other, or talking about weird and deep stuff he couldn't talk about with anyone else.

After one week, he thought that was enough. If you said everything was fine, why were you ignoring him? So he got out of his studio, where he usually spent the whole day, and started walking around. Of course, he had a million things to do, but he couldn't help it anymore. He needed to see you and ask you what was happening.

After about ten minutes of walking around, he spotted you talking with another staff member. As he got closer, he could see the bags under your eyes, as if you hadn't been sleeping well. What had happened to you?

You noticed him when he was a few meters away from you. You knew you would have to face him at some point, but you weren't ready yet. He said that you couldn't have another type of relationship, so what was the point? You couldn't act as if nothing was happening and keep meeting him in his studio. Because if you were already hurt, who knows how would you feel after a month. Or three. Or a year. You couldn't deal with that, and you needed to tell him, but you didn't know how yet. That's why you had been avoiding him. But you should have known he wouldn't let you do it for so long.

"Y/n, can we talk real quick?" Chan said, and Lena, the staff member you were talking with, left thinking that Chan needed something related to work. Shit, don't leave me alone. You thought, but of course, your friend couldn't have an idea of what was happening. When she left, you nodded slightly, and you two walked into one of those "focus rooms" that everyone could use. They were soundproof, so Chan knew you could talk freely in there. He let you in first and, when he was inside too, he closed the door. Then, he turned around to look at you.

"Do you need anything?" you asked, trying to act as if nothing happened. Chan sighed, knowing what you were doing.

"Yes, I need you to buy me an americano, and I think Jisung wanted cheesecake." He said sarcastically, crossing his arms. You tilted your head and sighed.

"Fine, what do you want?" You asked. You tried to act rough, but if he had held your hand, he would have noticed you were trembling.

“What do I- Did I miss something?” He asked, slightly annoyed. He couldn’t understand your behavior. “You’ve been ignoring me for a whole week, I thought you said we were fine,” Chan observed you, trying to figure out what was happening.

“It’s not that I’m ignoring you…” You started, and he raised an eyebrow. “I needed to think, I thought you would understand that I can’t just act as if nothing happened.” You replied. Chan shook his head.

“Then you shouldn’t have said we were fine. You should have talked to me.” He complained and raised his voice without noticing it, but you did. That annoyed you. Why was he mad?

“Sure, after you told me we can’t have another type of relationship. What a great moment to talk with you, Chan.” You said, loudly. You didn’t know at what point that conversation turned into an argument, but you wanted to end it. “Chan, you only want sex. I don’t want to have that type of relationship with you anymore, and, as you said, we can’t have another one. So I don’t think there’s anything to talk about anyway.” You said and shrugged. Chan looked at you as if you were saying nonsense.

Well, for him, it was. He only wanted sex? Absolutely no. Could he be only your friend after everything that happened between you two? Also no. Could he date you? No, it was forbidden. Did he want to? He didn’t know.

“I’m trying to be professional. I work here. I’m a staff member and you’re an artist. That’s it.” You finished the conversation and tried to open the door, but he stopped you by holding your arm.

“That’s it? What about everything that has happened between us?” Chan asked. He couldn’t believe you wanted to go back to the time you weren’t even friends.

“I don’t know, Chan. Find another girl. You’ll forget me soon. It’s not like you’re in love, right?” You smiled slightly, and he looked down without saying anything. Why couldn’t you understand he couldn’t love you? He would risk every single thing he has been fighting for during all his life. He just didn’t know what to say, so he stayed quiet.

And you interpreted it as a no.

“That’s what I thought.” You said, lastly. You moved your arm, and he let it go. He observed how you got out of the room and walked away without looking back.

Of course, he didn’t know it was because you didn’t want him to see you cry.

One week later

"C'mon Y/n..." Jisung complained. He wanted you to hang out with the boys at the dorms, but you didn't want to. Because of obvious reasons. "I know Chan and you aren't on good terms. I don't know what happened between you two..." If you knew... You thought. "... but we're still friends. I don't want to lose you because of this. And maybe you can talk with him too, I know he doesn't want to lose you either. You two are like soulmates." He said, and you sighed. You knew he wouldn't leave you alone until you agreed. But you weren't ready yet. And, talking with him? He said what he wanted, and you didn't want to do it, so that was it. You didn't need to talk.

Jisung noticed that you didn't want to talk with Chan by your facial expressions.

"And if you don't want to, it's not a problem. Lately, he's been in his room the whole day if he's not in the studio. I don't think he goes out." You were still doubtful. But you missed the boys a lot.

"Fine, I'll go." You said, and he clapped, showing you his heart-shaped smile, and hugged you.

"Cool, see you tonight." You nodded, and he walked away since he had practice with the boys.

After all, he was right. You couldn't just stop talking and hanging out with them because of what happened between you and Chan. That's why, that night, you were at the dorms when they told you. Hyunjin opened the door and smiled at you.

"Hi, Y/n! I'm so happy you decided to come." He hugged you quickly and let you in.

"Well, Jisung said there would be pizza." He laughed and, after closing the door, he led you to the living room.

"Y/n! Changbin-hyung wanted to start eating without you." Jeongin said, pointing at him. You laughed when Changbin raised his arms, trying to look innocent. You were so happy to see them that you almost forgot that Chan was just a few meters away, in his room.

Even if he had his headphones, he heard your laugh. Of course, the boys warned him that you were coming over, and even asked him to have dinner with them, but he excused himself, saying that he had a lot of work to do. He wasn't hungry anyway. He never was since you two stopped every type of contact. He did have work to do, but he couldn't do it anyway. He hadn't composed anything in that week either, and it was driving him crazy. One of the main reasons why he wasn't dating you was that he didn't want to get distracted from his work, but his world seemed to be upsidedown since you distracted him, even more, when you weren't with him.

In the living room, you all were having an interesting conversation about if birds had ears or not (Felix's thoughts sometimes amused you) when Seungmin talked.

"Should we bring Chan-hyung some food? He must be starving." He said. Minho nodded.

"I haven't seen him eat today," Minho added, and your eyes widened.

"For the whole day?" You asked, worried.

"It's not that weird. When he has a good idea, he stays in his room or the studio for days. We always bring him food, but he's been rejecting it lately. I don't know how he isn't hungry." Minho explained, and you looked at Jisung.

"You didn't tell me that." You said. It didn't seem that serious when he told you.

"I didn't? Sorry, I thought I did, But yes, he's been acting weird lately." He stated. Then, all of them started to talk about another topic, but you remained thinking. You weren't sure if he was like that because, as they said, he was working on something good... Or because of you. You didn't want to think like that, but you couldn't help feeling guilty, even if you didn't know if it was your fault.

That's why, a few minutes later, you took a plate and put in it one slice of pizza. Then you stood up, and everyone looked at you.

"Where are you going?" Jisung asked, even if he knew what you were about to do. Of course, he would have brought food to his hyung, but he hoped that you would do it. He wanted you two to talk.

"I'm gonna bring Chan some food... It's worrying me that he hasn't eaten today." You said and walked away toward his bedroom.

When you got there, you opened the door and saw him with his headphones on, the room completely dark except for the computer. Of course, it reminded you of the evenings you spent in his studio.

Since he hadn't noticed you, you walked toward him and tapped him on his shoulder. He turned around expecting to see one of the boys, but he almost choked when he saw you there. He immediately took off his headphones, but he couldn't say anything. He just observed you, there, in his room.

"Umm... The boys told me you haven't been eating well so... I brought you dinner." You said, placing the plate on his desk. You waited for a few seconds, but he didn't say anything, and it was getting awkward, so you decided to go back to the living room.

It's not that he hadn't anything to say. He had so much to say that he couldn't even verbalize it. He was shocked to see you there, after one week of not having any contact. He couldn't help to stare at you and ask himself what he had done. You were probably one of the best things that ever happened to him and he didn't want to lose you.

And when he realized that, you were already about to open the door of his room to leave.

"Y/n" He called you, making you stop and turn around to look at him. Again, he didn't know what to say. He just didn't want you to leave again.

He stood up and took a few steps until he was right in front of you. He cupped your face with his hands and placed his lips on yours. It was so sudden, but as soon as you felt him kissing you, you kissed him back. At that moment, you felt like your senses were waking up. You didn't smell his habitual cologne, but you did notice the vanilla from his shampoo. And he tasted like mint again. His thumb started caressing your cheek, sending shivers down your spine. And after a few seconds, you felt your cheeks wet. He was crying. You stopped the kiss and opened your eyes to look at him. He opened his eyes too when you placed your hands on his cheeks to wipe away the tears.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I shouldn't have kissed you. I'm sorry." You ignored what he was saying since you were more worried about why he was crying.

"Are you okay, Chan?" You asked him. And he sighed before letting it all out.

"No." He confessed. "I can't sleep. I'm never hungry. I can't write lyrics. I can't compose anything good. Everything I do is think about you even more than before, and it's driving me crazy. I don't know what to do, Y/n." And he locked eyes with you, almost begging you for a solution.

"Chan... Do you love me?" You asked, risking it all. But afraid of being hurt again.

"I told you, I can't..." He started looking around, avoiding your eyes. You interrupted him.

"That's not what I asked." You said, and he stayed quiet. You decided to risk it all one more time. The last time. "I love you, Chan." You confessed, and he broke down in tears and pulled you into a hug, buried his face in your neck. "I love you too." He muttered against your neck. Then you held his face and wiped his tears again. You knew that the tears were just the proof of how much stress he had been going through.

"Then everything is fine. We can go slow and see what happens. I dont need you to take care of me or give me attention all the time, Chan. I know that music is your passion and that you need time for that. I'm okay with it. I understand it."

He just nodded and placed the softest kiss on your lips. "Thank you for not giving up on me."

Then, you told him to lie down on his bed. You knew how tired he was because of not sleeping. You took off his shoes and yours as well and lay down next to him. He hugged you and kissed your forehead. "God, I missed you so much." He muttered against your hair.

"I missed you too," you replied, and you two fell asleep, feeling safe and happy, knowing that the other would be there in the morning.

#bangchan #bangchan imagines #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids drabbles #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #bang chan x reader #bang chan x y/n #bang chan angst #bang chan fluff #bang chan idol au #stray kids scenarios #bang chan scenarios

[mrsbbridgerton]

The Moment I Knew// Anthony Bridgerton - Epilogue

Word Count : 1820

Warnings: childbirth

A/N: based on this request from @albeeox. As usual I have not beta’d this. I just hope it makes sense. 

You waddled into the breakfast room at Aubrey Hall, squeezing into a seat before letting out an exhausted huff. Anthony had been sat at the head of the table, nose deep in his morning paper as he waited on cook to bring breakfast. He didn’t hear you come in until the slow squeaky drag of the chair next to him drew him out of the pages.

“Y/N you should have called me” he said, setting down his paper instantly. “Did you take all of those stairs yourself? In your condition?” his voice getting higher with each question. You gave him a stern but ultimately buttery look at his worry.

“Yes dear. My waters have not yet broken, I am perfectly able to take the stairs.” You fixed him with a glare as he moved to push your chair in. “And I am famished.” Just as you said that several maids entered with trays of breakfast on gleaming silver trays.

“Just as I thought my love. Which is why I instructed cook to prepare one of everything… except kippers” he added, knowing the smell had turned your stomach even after your morning sickness had passed. Trays of eggs; and toast; and meats and fruits were all laid out in front of the two of you, just as they had been for the past month. Ever since the doctor had told you it would be any time soon.

After breakfast was finished and taken away you settled back to mull over your bump. Anthony picked up his newspaper again but you noted his eyes never left the rim of the pages. You looked at him watch you, to his mind surreptitiously before his eyes locked on yours.

“Yes darling.” He said immediately, pushing his paper to one side and drawing his chair and inch or two closer to yours.

“I didn’t say anything” you questioned, watching with curiosity as he pulled his chair up next to yours, arm finding its way around the back of your chair.

“You were looking at me, is everything alright?” his tone was sweet but almost frantic. He placed a somewhat shaky hand on top of yours.

“I’m fine my love” you smiled, watching as Anthony’s hand became steadier over your protruding stomach the more he held it there. “You know he settles when you’re near?” Anthony’s head shot up at your words, his deep brown eyes almost pleading for the truth. “I’m not lying. It’s like he can sense it. When he hears your voice or you touch me in any way, he settles”

“And how do you know it’s a He?” Anthony dopily smiled, kissing your cheek as he squidged closer.

“I have a feeling”

“Well, I’d be perfectly happy with either. We are in no rush for an heir and I would like an excuse to lavish you with as much affection as you desire.” The lopsided smirk on his face, evidence of his rakish youth but the love in his eyes held a more settled gentleman’s gaze. Anthony rested his head on your shoulder as he continued to caress your swollen stomach, nuzzling into your neck – contented to spend the rest of the day just like this.

You convinced Anthony to walk with you in the gardens after breakfast. He had mildly argued that he needed to prepare for a meeting with his steward later but your baby kicked under his hand and he melted into submission.

You stood amongst the autumn foliage, watching as the gardener’s little girl toddled over to her father holding a trowel.

“I can’t wait to be a father” Anthony murmured in your ear as he held you from behind. You smiled at his little slip of thought.

“You’ll be an excellent father.” You turned in his arms, belly pushing you further away from his face than you would have liked. Anthony reached across the distance between you to plant a loving kiss on your pouting lips.

“I must get back to work: Martin is coming at one and I have not so much as gazed at the books this month.” He whispered through a smirk before turning to leave.

It was a little while later; you had decided to take tea on the terrace, enjoying the afternoon sunshine whilst it lasted, and Anthony had been in his study, nursing an early brandy as he thought on crop rotations, when he heard it. A shrill scream followed by the crash of bone china on a stone floor; that could only mean one thing. Y/N! Anthony ran as fast as he could from his study, bolting down the hall and through the morning room to see you buckled over on the floor. He rushed to your side

By the time the doctors arrived Anthony was practically having a heart attack on the front steps. Since getting you up the many stairs of Aubrey Hall himself (He insisted everyone else would hurt you if they so much as touched you), Anthony had run from your rooms to the front steps every time he heard you whimper, or the distance sound of horses. He practically dragged the aged senior by the collar to your chamber, rushing to your side when he saw you panting and sweaty, and looking fully ready to birth his child.

You panted as your maid guided you, Anthony taking over the moping of your brow as the doctors began his examination. As the afternoon turned to evening, Anthony’s temper didn’t … well, temper – with every whimper or wail let from your mouth he argued with the doctors to do something. Despite numerous insistences of both nurse maids and doctors insisting Anthony leave the room as it ‘just was not seemly for a lord to see a lady this way!’, he stayed; gripping your hand as you squeezed with each contraction.

“Please, your Lordship, allow the doctors to worry for your wife’s condition. It is our profession.” He was chastised.

“MY WIFE IS IN PAIN AND I WILL BE WITH HER UNTIL SHE IS WELL AGAIN” Anthony snapped back, looking like he would be ready to bite the next hand that tried to see him to the door. The furrow in his brow deepened as the senior doctor announced it was time to push. Through each effort, Anthony only looked on more and more distressed, unable to take the pain away from you: with each scream his mind reeled with flashbacks to his youngest sister, Hyacinth’s, birth and how he’d almost lost his mother that day.

After an hour of intense pushing, both you and Anthony looking as sweaty and exhausted as each other your child was still no closer to being born. The doctors rushed around; one feeling your stomach for movement, the senior, with his notebook doing (in Anthony’s opinion) Sod All, and the last, between your legs, occasionally checking for further dilation. Suddenly the young doctor feeling your stomach snapped his head up and beckoned the senior over.

“The baby is in breech” the elder doctor mumbled with a stained sigh – moving as fast as Anthony had seen him as he rummaged in his medical bag for instruments. You let out a cry of pain as your tried in vain to push again. Anthony panicked at the doctor’s announcement.

“Breech? Breech? What does that mean?” Anthony stood, still holding your hand with both of his as he glared at trio.

“It means, Your Lordship” the small senior man said sighing “that the baby has decided to descend feet first and, as such” he took his glasses off to clean them “is stuck.” Anthony’s heart leapt to his throat and lodged there.

“Well do something. Now!” he choked out, trying to sound as intimidating as he had been. Your breaths came out in short pants as you tried not to panic and faint. Your lady’s maid had your other hand in her own, comforting you with soft words and the occasional dab of a damp cloth to your forehead as the men argued above you.

“We are preparing to turn the child. It is a difficult thing to do but she is not yet crowning so it may be possible.” The elderly man said smoothly.

“May be possible?”

“Yes. At this stage it is the only option.” He said lowly, just to Anthony, breaking the news as softly as possible as you were otherwise occupied.

The next thing you felt was a decisive clamp of hands around your protruding belly as the small, senior doctor guided the taller but decidedly younger one in moving your baby around in your stomach to turn it the right way. The movement was sharp and stinging but it was strange that you could actually feel the child moving. When the doctor gave the word, you began pushing again, the other doctor; who had, even at this stage, not said a word reached behind him to retrieve a large metal appendage. You felt a cold sensation at your opening as he inserted the instrument; as the baby began to appear, he clamped them around the crowning head and gently pulled. The force of the birth and the still odd angle they appeared to be at made you throw your head back with a scream. You faintly heard Anthony call your name but the rushing of blood in your ears drowned out everything but your own screams.

Over six hours since Anthony had first found you, collapsed on the patio, your baby was finally born. You let out an exhausted laugh as they were lifted over the linen shroud at your waist and passed to a nursemaid to clean and wrap. Anthony’s face was nearly split in two by a radiant grin; the look of complete and utter adoration in his eyes never left as he looked from you to your child and back again. You beckoned him to go and he let go of your hand for the first time all evening and walked over to the nursemaid on the opposite side of the room to watch his first-born being wrapped in a soft muslin cloth.

Anthony reached out to hold the child, cradling him in his arms as he walked back over to you. The baby let out a quiet scream as he yawned for the first time, a big pair of dark brown eyes staring back as Anthony as he welled up.

 Dearest Reader, It is with great pleasure that I can announce that the Viscountess Lady Y/N Bridgerton has born her child, a son named Edmund. Although the child appears to have arrived some months before due, I have been informed that both mother and child are in splendid health and that the Viscount is determined to keep both holed away at Aubrey Hall for the foreseeable season ahead, giving us all, even greater cause than usual, to hope that the annual Bridgerton musicale goes ahead as planned.

Lady Whistledown, 18 March 1813

#bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #my writing #the moment i knew

[thecrystalquill]

Unexpected Part 8

Fred Weasley x Slytherin!Reader

Summary: Everyone knew Fred Weasley, the cocky, confident, Gryffindor beater and prank extraordinaire. Everything was pretty damn perfect, until he meets a girl he can’t afford to be late for...

A/N: It’s Part 8 whoop whoop! What do you think of the new title picture? A little clearer with a white outline, no? Anyway, sorry this took so long to write but you would not believe these last couple of months I’ve had...

Masterlist                    Series Masterlist

         "An' the' he panicked an' he threw it in the fire! An' when he realised wha' he did, he tried to--"          "Ronald, will you stop talking with your mouth full! It's disgusting and I don't want any half-eaten chicken on my plate!" Hermione scolded, pushing her plate away from him. "Can't I just have one meal without you spitting all over the place?"          "Well can't I just tell one story without you cutting me off for something?" Ron fired back, though he did swallow his food first.          "You two really do bicker like an old married couple, don't ya?" Snickered George, sending a look to his little brother, who flushed almost instantly.          "Shut up, no we don't!" Ron whined, obviously embarrassed as he cradled his plate closer, shoving a boiled potato in his mouth with a frown - he didn't even get to finish what he was saying.          The group of Gryffindor boys laughed at his reaction, before breaking off into new conversation. It was dinnertime on a Sunday evening, exactly five days and fifteen hours before Fred's study date (if you could even call it that) with (Y/N) - he'd been counting. He'd woken up the previous morning and sat up with a brilliant bundle of excited nerves in his stomach and had been about to get ready when he realised he would have been a week early for his tutoring session, then crawled back into bed feeling impatient and disappointed. Why did she have to set the date for the next week? It only gave him more time to build up nerves - something he definitely wasn't used to. But maybe that was the point, he considered, to make him anxious and keep him waiting - to keep him overthinking and over-preparing his every planned word. He'd almost gone to the lengths of writing a list of conversation starters and topics to avoid - almost; he soon realised that that might have taken preparedness a little too far. But at least the extra time allowed him to brush up on topics that they'd already covered in class; he didn't want to seem too clueless, did he? Of course, he understood very little of what he was reading, but it was the effort that counted, right? He hoped she thought so...          "It was well funny, right Fred?" George said, patting him on the shoulder. He'd gathered that his twin was explaining something to Lee, since they were both looking his way, and quickly agreed as if he'd been listening the whole time.          He really needed to stop spacing out.

         Time was going incredibly slow. Every tick of the clock on the wall seemed louder than the last, as if it were mocking him, taunting him with each second that passed. Ordinarily, the repetitive tapping noise would have lulled him into a sleep-like daze - but now all it did was make Fred increasingly aware of each second that went, serving as a constant reminder of what he could have been doing with that time. Dear Godric, was this what detention was like for everyone else?          Fred and George had been caught red-handed setting up a prank near the potions classroom, and by none-other than Professor McGonagall. And so now there they were, sitting at opposite ends of the Transfiguration classroom as the professor marked some papers and kept a watchful eye on the pair. They had no idea how long they would be serving their punishment, which made Fred even more nervous; he had an hour until he was due to meet with (Y/N), and he desperately wanted to spend that time going over some things in his divination book, and checking his appearance (mostly the latter), maybe turn up a little early. His knee bounced erratically under the desk, the only outlet for his nerves, and his fingers tapped the wood while he stared at the clock, as if it could speed things along.          "Somewhere to be, Mr. Weasley?" Fred's head shot up at McGonagall's voice, giving him a look over the top of her spectacles.          "Yes actually, Professor," George answered for him, "Fred's got a date." He smirked, dishing out the gossip as if the two were old friends.          Fred shook his head. "I don't have a date, I have a tutor." He corrected, although he wished it were in fact a proper date. Wouldn't that be something?          George rolled his eyes. "Fine, a study date then. He's been all worked up about it really, actually got him to study."          "Well, that is impressive," said the professor, half-sarcastic. Dipping her quill to mark another paper, she suppressed a smile. "And might I inquire who this tutor is?"          "(Y/N) (Y/L/N)," Smiled Fred, feeling very accomplished that this information was enough to make McGonagall raise her brows. "Know her?"          The woman nodded, taking the specs from her eyes in thought. "Yes, a good student, charming girl." She paused for a moment, and the twins thought she might reveal something else about the mysterious Slytherin, but she quickly placed her glasses back on her nose and picked up another piece of homework. "Alright, I'll let you leave now, but don't think I'll excuse you again."          The boys beamed and stood from their chairs, grabbing their robes as they neared the exit. "You're the best, Minnie!" Fred shouted over his shoulder before he ran down the hall.          George ran after him. "Don't go getting soft on us!" She laughed as he shut the door, reminiscing how the brothers reminded her of her last favourite boys.

         Fred was rushing through his room in a panic, clothes were thrown across the floor, his bed was covered in scraps of divination notes (most of which were borrowed), and now he just couldn't find his comb. Thirty-four minutes until he had to be in the library, and honestly he felt a little light-headed. So far, Fred had tried on two different trousers, four jumpers, three shoes, and seven shirts, and now he was staring at himself in the mirror looking for any flaws in his outfit. "Fred, for Merlin's sake, you look fine." Said George from his own bed, sitting up. "What you worried for, anyway?"          A look of complete bewilderment spread across Fred's face, as if his brother had gone mad. "Have you absolutely lost it?" He exclaimed, finding a hairbrush at the foot of someone's bed and trying to get his hair to sit right. "I need to look like I've made an effort at least- but not too much of an effort - but I need her to like me- I mean I want her to- I mean--"          "I think you've already spent too long on this, Freddie," George stood up, glancing over the papers on Fred's bed, picking up a palm chart and dropping it again. "Stop fretting - I mean, she wouldn't agree to meet with you if you didn't have a chance, eh?" Fred didn't seem so sure, George realised as he stood in front of him. Sighing, he pursed his lips as he looked at his twin's hair, ruffling it up just so and swatting away Fred's hands. "Stop it, it's too neat..."          Fred checked his watch - twenty-nine minutes. He nervously tapped his foot as he let George mess his hair, roll his eyes, and then mess it again. "Can-"          "-Ssssh." George interrupted, eyeing him quizzically then squinting at his shirt in distain. "Really? This is the one you picked?"          Fred frowned in offence and looked down at his outfit. "What's wrong with it?"          "Too stripy, and it drains you." George answered, going to rummage through some draws.          Huffing, Fred threw the shirt off and onto the floor, feeling rather hopeless. "Since when did you become such an expert?" Another shirt was thrown at him, a blue tee, which he put on without question.          "Shush!" His twin shushed, pulling out a dark blue flannel shirt and throwing it over Fred's shoulders to put on. He took a step back to look Fred over, then threw his hands up with a grin. "There! All sorted, now c'mon because I'll never hear the end of it if you're late." George then went over to the bed and shoved some scrolls and sheets of paper into a satchel, hooking it over Fred's shoulder, and dumped his copy of 'Unfogging the Future' into his arms and pulled him out the door, barely giving Fred a chance to look in the mirror.          Upon entering the common room, the twins were greeted by their brother and his friends sat by the fire. The warmth of Gryffindor Tower was much more inviting than the permanently chilly stone hallways of the castle, and Fred felt as if he were almost immediately recharged. "What're you doing here?" Ron piped up from the sofa, where he had been pretending to read his Charms book. "Thought McGonagall gave you detention till dinner?"          "No I- uh... I've got a tutor..." Fred muttered, hoping to draw very little attention to the statement.          "Tutor?" Repeated Ron with an astounded expression - apparently a statement like that doesn't go unnoticed. "Since when? What for?"          Fred checked his watch; twenty-one minutes to go. "Since I got a tutor - if you must know everything, it’s for divination, so I gotta go-"          "What's the rush?" Harry piped up, partially for genuine curiosity and partially for the distraction from homework.          Twenty minutes.          "It's a girl," George answered with a smirk, loving to stir things up a little, it seems.          Each of the trio had a very different reaction; Ron nodded his head, muttering a long 'aaah...' of realisation - the only reasonable explanation for Fred's eagerness; Harry looked to be quite curious, and obviously picked up on George's teasing tone, he might have said something too, but was quickly interrupted.          "How sweet," Hermione giggled, making Fred blush at the comment, "got a crush, have you?"          Fred's cheeks flushed red, though he tried to hide it with a shake of his head. "No I- well-"          "And she's helping you with divination, which is nice of her... bit of a woolly subject really, I mean, it's not exactly a science. And Trelawny..." Hermione went on a tangent, and Fred checked his watch again; fifteen minutes!          "Yeah, look guys I've really gotta get going-"          "Hang on- who is it?" Asked Ron - not exactly a topic Fred wanted to get on to with his little brother.   

He gripped his textbook in his hand. "Doesn't matter, now I need to go-"          "Why doesn't it matter?" Said Harry, long forgetting his Charms work.          "Fred doesn't know her much yet," George replied, "you should see what he's like - gets all shy and blushy."          The trio were shocked by that one. "Noo..." They muttered simultaneously.          "Blimey..." Ron stared, anyone would think he'd seen a banshee by the expression he was wearing.          "Yup, real sight to see. Honestly I never thought I'd see the day - she's a good one, i'nt she Fred?" Said George, turning to consult his twin, only to find himself looking at an empty space. "Fred?"

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#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #Fred and George #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #harry potter fred weasley #fred weasley series #weasley twins #weasley twins x reader #weasley twin x reader #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter golden era #harry potter x reader #harry potter x slytherin!reader #Gryffindor x Slytherin #x slytherin #x slytherin!reader #unexpected part 2 #golden era #golden era x reader #harry potter golden era x reader

[americasass81]

Make Her Mine

Tony Stark x Reader

Warnings: Future Dark!fic, Dark!Tony, nothing too serious so far apart from some verbal threats. Word count: 2000 approx. A/N: So this is my first time writing and posting here and I’m debating turning this into a dark!Tony fic.  Not sure if that will happen but here goes.  Also re-editing this chapter from original female character to reader.

Run-Through

Who knew a booking screw up at your favorite restaurant was about to bring your world crashing down around you when you draw the unwanted attention of a certain billionaire playboy.

Chapter One

Sitting at the bar, waiting to be seated, you couldn't believe a two month wait had been screwed up by something as simple as transferring details from one book into another.  But here you were, all dressed up, while the ditzy youngster who called herself a hostess assured you that you would be given top priority when a table became available.

Tucking into your second glass of rosé, you couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching you and that, coupled with your growing irritation, helped you decide that if you weren't seated by the time your wine was finished, you would cut your losses and call it a night.  After all, working as an accountant for Stark Industries kept you busy enough and you didn't need to waste any more of your precious free time on someone else's mistakes.

Halfway through your drink, with still no sign of a table opening up, you were brought out of your thoughts by the sudden appearance at your side of one Happy Hogan.  "Hey love, the Bossman couldn't help but notice you're sitting here all alone and would be thrilled to have the pleasure of your company.  Shall we?" he asked, reaching out his hand for you to take.

Looking around the restaurant, your gaze quickly landed on the secluded area and was greeted by the wandering eyes and devilish smirk of Tony Stark.  Tipping his glass slightly and waving two fingers in a come hither gesture, you rolled your eyes, shook your head and turned back to Happy.  "Tell himself I said thanks for the offer, but no.  I've had a long day and the one saving grace has been royally fucked up, so if you don't mind, I think I'll just call it a night."

"Love, are you sure you don't want to reconsider.  Tony Stark is not a man accustomed to being told no.  It usually doesn't end well."

"Thank you for the insight, but I am fully aware of most things concerning Mr. Stark.  Now if you'll excuse me, I have work in the morning and a boss who expects nothing but perfection from his employees."  With that, you shoved your unfinished wine away, picked up your bag and stepping around Happy, walked out of the building.

Hailing a cab, heading home and throwing yourself into bed, you couldn't know that back at the restaurant, your boss was pissed that you had declined his company or that he was now determined to make you see what a mistake that was.

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

The next morning, you headed off to work without even thinking about what had happened the previous night.  Sitting down at your desk, you buried your head in your work until lunch called and you decided to head down to the cafe on the ground floor.

Working in Stark Industries, employees were always bragging about the various run-ins they had with Avengers dropping by to see Tony, but it was never something you really gave much thought to.  For you, while you loved your job, it was a well paying means to allow you to enjoy what free time it provided.  To you, the Avengers were nothing more than other hard working individuals who didn't need people fawning over them for doing a job they chose to do.

That said however when Happy Hogan and Pepper Potts stepped into the elevator, a little voice told you to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible.  Inching away from Tony Stark's loyal lackies, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, when two floors later, they exited the lift without ever noticing your presence.

Finally reaching the cafe, you ordered your usual mint flavored hot chocolate with whipped cream and decided to head back to your desk where you hoped to disappear until it was time to head home.  While the rest of the day passed relatively quickly, you couldn't help your mind wandering over your conversation with Happy the previous night.

From time to time you wondered how there could possibly be any repercussions from turning Tony down seeing as he knew nothing about you, but the more your mind mulled over things, the more on edge you became.  By the time you were ready to leave, your nerves had you jumping at every little sound and you were actually looking forward to going home and locking yourself away until facing the same situation tomorrow.

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

After a restless night where every sound had you opening your eyes to see if something was amiss, you gave up sleeping around four, changed into your running gear and headed off for a quick jog before work.  Though you usually preferred boxing over running, you figured the fresh air might be useful in keeping you awake for the long day you now had ahead of you.  Then after heading home, you cursed Tony Stark as you brewed a cup of coffee, which you usually only drank when you needed to remain functioning.

Heading off to work, feeling slightly better, your day took one hell of a nosedive the minute you arrived at your desk to be told you had to deliver the quarterly financial reports to the meeting upstairs in ten minutes.  Knowing that ten minutes was enough time if no one stopped the lift along the way, your biggest concern was the fact that Tony Stark, and possibly Happy Hogan, would be present at said meeting.  As you watched the numbers pass by, you tried to reason that as nobody special, you had nothing to worry about and by the time you reached the main floor you had convinced yourself everything was grand.  Little did you know, grand is a relative term.

Placing your hand on the meeting room door, you slowly entered and was greeted by three sets of eyes staring at you.  Tony, Pepper and Happy were the only ones there and the fact that a whole group of people were just now walking towards the room told you that you had made good time.  Ignoring the knowing glances exchanged by Tony and Happy, you walked towards the table before speaking.  "These are the quarterly financial reports requested for this meeting Mr. Stark.  If there's nothing else, I need to get back to work."

"Wait miss, what's your name?" Tony asked, as he stepped around Pepper to stride towards you.

Thinking about lying but knowing what a waste it would be, you looked anywhere but at him before answering.  "Y/F/N."  Then, before he could ask anything else, the door opened and you took the opportunity to slip out and put some distance between you.  Taking the stairs, you kept going until you reached the lobby and headed straight for the street to draw in some much needed air.  Once your breathing returned to normal, you steeled your shoulders and headed back to your desk where you discovered Happy sitting in your chair.

"Well Miss Y/L/N, it seems you're a hard person to track down when one doesn't look right under their nose.  Mr. Stark has asked me to escort you to his office."

"I haven't done anything wrong so you can kindly tell Mr. Stark thanks, but no thanks.  I have no interest in spending time with him.  I simply want to do my job to the best of my ability and live my life in peace."

"And how much peace do you think you'll have if Tony decides your attitude is disrespectful?  Now you can let me escort you to his office, or we can wait here for police officers to escort you from this building for stealing money from Stark Industries." he whispered, having risen from the chair and closed the distance between you.

Certain the color had drained from your face, your shoulders slumped as you turned around and walked back the way you came with Happy falling into step beside you.

The ride up in the elevator was so much worse that the previous trip and you couldn't help but wonder what exactly Tony had in mind for you.  If Happy was willing to pass on life shattering threats, it didn't bode well in your humble opinion.  Leading you out of the lift on the uppermost floor, Happy opened the door to Tony's private office and once you were inside, had F.R.I.D.A.Y. lock the place down.  If you weren't panicked before, you were now all but ready to pass out at the sheer dread coursing through your veins.

An hour later, having been left to stew and think through every conceivable worst case scenario, the door of the office unlocked and Tony walked through.   Locking the door again, you watched as he discarded his jacket and tie before sitting behind his desk and facing you.

Looking you up and down like that night at the restaurant, you kept your eyes trained on the floor except to glance up once or twice to catch him staring at you.  "So Miss Y/L/N, I've learned quite a bit about you in the last two hours.  How is it that in the past three years you've worked here, I've never laid eyes on you before two nights ago?"

"You're a busy man and this is a big company.  I doubt you've laid eyes on every single employee that works here.  Besides, I tend to keep my head down, do my work and not bother anyone." you answered, still not meeting his gaze.

"Admirable qualities to be sure." he smirked, rising from his chair and coming round the desk to take up residence in the seat across from you.  "I wonder what other qualities you possess?"

"Mr. Stark?"

"Tony, please.  Perhaps you can start by explaining what happened at the restaurant and why you declined my company.  Hmm?"

"Look Mr. Stark . . . Tony." you added quickly, when he cleared his throat, "I don't mean to be rude, but as I explained to Mr. Hogan, I have no interest in anything to do with you except the job you pay me for.  A job, I might add I'm damn good at and would like to get back to."

"You know, Y/N, for someone who doesn't mean to be rude, you're not doing a very good job.  Perhaps a lesson in manners is what's in order."

Any retort you were about to utter was quickly stifled however, when F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed Tony that Captain Rogers was on his way up for their meeting.

"Damn. F.R.I.D.A.Y. please ask Steve to wait outside a moment."  Rising to his feet while helping you up, you could see the gears turning in his head but they quickly stopped as he looked at you once more.  "I think for now, it's best if you return to your desk.  When you're finished, wait there and Happy will drive you to my place where we can continue this conversation."

"Mr. Stark, I don't know what impressions I gave you, but this is highly unwanted and inappropriate behavior.  If it continues, I will have no choice but to report you to Human Resources."

"Well damn, Darling, I don't think I've ever been threatened with Human Resources in my own company.  No wait, that's a lie.  Pepper once threatened me with them, but considering it's my name on the building, it's kinda redundant.  Don't you think?  Now, be a good girl and do as you're told.  Steve's not a man who likes to be kept waiting."

Kissing your cheek and leading you from the office, you headed for the nearest toilets, locked the doors and emptied the contents of your stomach into the nearest bowl.  Returning to your desk, you found yourself unable to concentrate on anything but the thought of what would happen when Happy came to collect you.

Deciding you didn't want to wait to find out, you told your boss you weren't feeling well, headed to your favorite hotel and paid cash for a room for two nights.  Hopefully, if Tony couldn't find you, whatever game he was playing would fizzle out and things could go back to normal.  If not, then you would give yourself a week to figure out how to escape the notice of a man who could severely screw up your life.

[mattzerella-sticks]

Lumped Together (9-1-1 fic, Hen/Karen. Chim/Maddie, and Eddie/Buck)

As an apology for keeping her thoughts about medical school secret from her wife and partner, Hen takes them (and Maddie) out for lunch. With the promise that it would only be them. And for the most part it was. Until Buck and Eddie strode in with every intention of eating Takoyaki.

Just not with them.

Armed with new information, what's a girl to do? Hen spends the next day fighting back the natural instinct to tease her friends about the wonderful step they've taken together in their relationship. Can she make it home without saying anything? Or will she give in?

           Hen presses her cheek right against her wife’s, smile wide for the camera. She waits for the telltale click before dropping into a more natural expression, rolling her eyes. “Is this one to your liking?”

           Karen squints at her phone, the device a scant few inches away from her face. Hen swallows a comment about needing glasses with another Takoyaki and relaxes when she sees a nod of approval. “The lighting was better in that direction.”

           “That’s what I was trying to tell you, Karen,” Chimney says, dipping a small ball in soy sauce and biting into it. “Where you were trying earlier, the shadows covered too much of our faces.”

           Maddie snorts around her drink, “I didn’t realize you knew so much about photography, Chim.”

           “When half your life was spent on dating websites and apps, you learn how to take a good photo.” They laugh, at his joke and Maddie’s retaliation. She shoves him gently, stealing one of his Takoyaki balls and eating it. “Hey!”

           “Consider this my reward,” Maddie tells him, “for saving you from all those website and apps.” Chimney sighs, laying his arm behind her chair and finishing off his own ball.

           Hen mirrors Chimney’s move, Karen leaning into her loose embrace. “Y’know,” Karen says, “I’m glad we did this. When is it that we can enjoy a meal together that’s just us?”

           The bell above the front entrance rings, drawing Hen’s gaze. She recognizes the newest diners and immediately deflates. “Never,” she sighs, “Because some people have codependency issues.” Her comment confuses everyone, so she nods over where the familiar faces of her coworkers wait for a server to greet them.

           Chimney sees them first. “Maddie,” he hisses, squeezing her shoulder, “I thought you didn’t tell Buck where we were going.”

           Maddie’s frown worsens, brows furrowed. “I didn’t,” she says, “I swear.” At a more pointed stare from the rest of the table, Maddie continues. “He couldn’t have followed me – he said he had his own plans plus he knows how I feel about those tracking apps.”

           A server finally welcomes them into the restaurant and grabs two menus for the pair. Hen straightens in her seat, “Well, however they found us doesn’t matter. Because here they come…”

           They never do. Instead the server sits Eddie and Buck at a small table near the door, takes their drink orders and leaves them with the menus.

           “Are they… not joining us?” Karen asks.

           Chimney shrugs, “I guess they’re not.”

           The fog of bewilderment won’t fade, actually growing stronger as more time passes. More time where Buck and Eddie sit at their own little table. Absorbed in their own little world, Buck grinning dopily at his friend and offering his menu when Eddie wants to point and share a few opinions that make him chuckle. Like Buck isn’t going to order the same thing he always does when he eats here.

           “Excuse me,” their waiter interrupts, startling everyone, “how’s everyone doing. Did you enjoy your meal?” Hen glances at her plate and sees nothing. She must have eaten absentmindedly while watching their friends. They all voice non-committal agreement. “Good,” he says, smile tight while he gathers the plates, “I can bring you all the check now if you want –“

           “Actually,” Chimney interrupts, “Can I get another order of Ponzu I – I can still go for more. What about the rest of you?”

           “Chim, what are you –“ he kicks her under the table, silently pleading for Hen to play along. She does. “Right,” Hen says, rubbing her stomach, “I could go for another round of those Wasabi Takoyaki. Please!”

           He nods, “No problem.”

           When he disappears behind the kitchen doors, she kicks Chimney back doubly hard. His yelp was unsatisfying. “What was that for?” she asks, “Now we gotta pay for food we’re not going to eat!”

           “Sorry,” Chimney tells her, pouting, “I figured staying where we are is for the best. Leaving now might spook the horses, if you catch my drift.” Hen understood perfectly, making his overexaggerated head tilt in their direction unnecessary.

           “Please, they wouldn’t follow us out of the restaurant.” She turns to Maddie, in a more panicked tone. “They wouldn’t follow us out of the restaurant, right?”

           Maddie nearly chokes on her drink. “No, no! I doubt Buck would even notice we left – sometimes he and Eddie get so wrapped up in whatever they’re doing they become completely oblivious. One time I saved Buck’s apartment from burning down because he left the iron on one of his shirts. He forgot because Eddie texted him some video and he ended up watching that instead!”

           “Well then do we ask the waiter to wrap it up?” Karen asks, “Divide the leftovers and hope they don’t notice us?”

           Hen holds the power of final call, the other three looking at her. Waiting for a decision. She flits her gaze over at Buck and Eddie once more, catching Buck showing Eddie something on his phone quickly as a waitress walks over. By the time she slides a strand of hair behind her ear, the boys are ready to order. Strangely ignoring the telltale stance of a woman about to flirt.

           Their waiter returns with the second course, placing it on their table. “Will that be all?”

           She still has to decide. “For now, yes. Thank you.” When he leaves, Hen rubs a tired hand across her brow. “I guess we’re here until an escape route opens up.”

           “If that’s the case…” Karen snags a piece of Takoyaki and pops it into her mouth. She pauses, mid-chew, when confronted with Hen’s frown. “What? We’re paying for them anyway. Might as well enjoy them.”

           “I don’t see what’s wrong with that,” Chimney chuckles, following her lead. Even Maddie nibbles into a ball, and Hen’s exhaustion breaks with a smile.

           “Force my hands why don’t you.”

           Conversation continues between them, not the same as before. Stilted in parts when someone turned their heads and spied on Buck and Eddie. Breaking the natural flow of the story and reporting on what they saw. Karen saw Buck nearly spill his drink after Eddie said something, a blush evident on the younger boy’s face. Chimney caught Buck dragging the waitress over, gesturing at a now shy Eddie while he displayed his phone. With how she swiped across the screen, she must be looking at pictures. Of Christopher, as Buck finds every excuse to show Eddie’s son off. Maddie, in the middle of telling her own story, trailed off when she spied Eddie shoving a Takoyaki into Buck’s mouth and then wiping a sauce smear off with his napkin. Half a minute passed while she regained her senses, idling in uncertainty.

           Hen, though, saw the most damning evidence.

           Buck stands from the table, saying something. He drops his hand on Eddie’s shoulder and squeezed. Eddie wastes no time, nuzzling at Buck’s fingers and then placing a chaste, innocent kiss on the knuckles. Grinning, Buck practically skips towards the bathrooms.

           “Shit.” Hen startled the others at her table, but she didn’t care. She raises her arm searching for the waiter. “Shit, we need to get out of here.”

           “Hen, baby,” Karen says, “what’s the matter?”

           Hen finally sees their waiter and gestures him over. “The problem,” she says, grimacing, “is we’ve stumbled onto their date – Hi! We’re ready to go.”

           The waiter blinks at her, the sudden onslaught of false cheer rattling him. “Uh, sure,” he says, fumbling for their check, “I’ll leave this with –“

           “Card,” Hen hands her credit card over, “Please, as quick as you can.” He nods, spinning on his heel and scurrying to the register. “Now,” she continues, slipping into her jacket, “we need to move fast. Chim, do you have a hat you can wear?”

           “Hold on,” Maddie stops her, grabbing for her wrist, “you still haven’t explained – who’s on a date?”

           “Buck and Eddie are.” Her face drops into objection, readying a discussion they cannot get into now. “Think about it,” Hen insists, meeting each of their stares, “think about how they’ve been acting the entire time they’ve been here.”

           Chimney immediately switches sides. “Oh my God, they’re on a date!”

           Then Maddie. “I can’t believe we’ve been spying on them this whole time!”

           “Exactly,” Hen says, tying her scarf over her head in a hurried manner, “Which is why the sooner we get out of here the better!” She motions for her wife, “Karen, I’m going to give you my glasses, you give me the shades you packed away in your purse.”

           “Wait a minute,” she slaps Hen’s hand, “I’m still… how is this surprising? Haven’t they been a couple this whole time?”

           “Buck? And Eddie?” Chimney asks, tugging his hoodie on overhead, “What gave you that idea?”

           Karen gestures at the other table, “Them.” Then at the three surrounding them. “You all… from how you talk about them –“

           “I mean, they were always pretty close for friends?” Maddie winces, squeezing a too-tight hair-tie over part of her hair for a loose curtain of a pigtail. “I’d tease Buck about him having a crush, but I figured it was one of those weird brothers-in-arms things.”

           “More like lovers in arms,” Chimney chuckles, trailing off when his flat joke turns up nothing but glares. “Yeah, I regretted saying it, too.” He squeezes the hoodie’s strings and half his face disappears behind a puckered hole.

           Karen quirks her lips, glancing at Hen again. “Whenever we talked about your co-workers, you lumped the two together. The fact that I almost always see them with Christopher…”

           Hen rubs a hand on her shoulder, “I did that because they were the only ones who weren’t paired off. I didn’t realize they had paired off… together?” Although she should have. Hen might have better radar for when a woman finds another woman attractive, but the looks are all the same. Reflecting on past memories there were so many moments where she wrote subtle hints and clues off as less than what they were. What they are. What they’ve always been?

           “Excuse me?” the waiter draws Hen’s attention from her thoughts. He hands back her card, a slip of a receipt, and a pen. “Thank you for dining with us today.”

           “Thanks for the meal.” Hen dashes a harried signature and hefty tip, standing. She hands her glasses off to Karen, “Can I have your -?”

           “Here you go.” Karen switches for Hen’s glasses, putting them on her face. She scowls, shaking her head. “When did you get a new prescription?”

           Hen slides the sunglasses over her eyes and grabs for Karen’s hands. “Close your eyes if it hurts, I’ll lead us out.” Although without glasses, Hen doesn’t trust her judgment much. Which is why she allows Maddie and Chimney the lead, trailing behind closely. She has Karen’s hand trapped in the crook of her arm, shielding her wife from Eddie. Luckily the other man seems absorbed in his phone waiting for Buck, the younger boy dawdling in the bathroom. They reach the exit and, like Orpheus, Hen looks behind.

           Buck returned, and she can see the joy in full bloom on Eddie’s face. Especially when Buck laces their fingers together on the table.

           Fearing recognition, Hen leaves the restaurant and joins Chimney and Maddie on the sidewalk, Karen at her side. They put some distance between them and the restaurant. Under the tall, red archway they rearrange themselves into something more presentable than their disguises.

           “Not how I was expecting this lunch to end,” Maddie says, staring at the restaurant. “I can’t believe Buck had a date with Eddie today and didn’t tell me.”

           Chimney scoffs, playing with his now uneven strings of his hoodie. “I can’t believe our luck that it was in the same place we were at for lunch.”

           “If this is as new as you think it is,” Karen says, hand still curled around Hen’s arm, “then maybe he was nervous. Maybe they both were. And they’d rather test the waters before taking as big a risk as telling anyone.” She smirks, gaze darting between Chimney and Hen. “Plus, I think they’d prefer at least some time with this before you tease them.”

           Hen huffs. “After all the trouble we went through to not be recognized… why would we blow it on a few jokes.”

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

           She really felt tempted to blow their cover with a few jokes. Walking into the station on the next day, Hen nearly slapped Eddie on the back and congratulated him for making an honest man out of their firehouse golden retriever. Instead she grunted a quick greeting and hurried into the locker rooms where Chimney waited for her.

           “This is going to be hard,” she mutters, shrugging off her jacket.

           He nods, slipping his t-shirt overhead. “I had to stop Maddie from texting him at least three different times last night. Instead she called Josh and I had to be an unwilling party to their gossip.”

           “Unwilling?” she scoffs, “As if you weren’t making a timeline.”

           Chimney shoves her, closing his locker door and leaving. Hen left soon after and immediately slammed into a passing Buck. Eddie, at his side, catches the younger man. She notices his hands land on Buck’s hips, quickly sliding up to his waist and then off like he was scolded.

           “You okay there Hen?” Buck asks, stepping out of Eddie’s aborted embrace, “I didn’t hit into you too hard?”

           Hen forces a tight smile onto her face, walking away. “Like knocking into a pillow,” she says, “just watch where you go next time, Buck!”

           “You weren't watching either…”

           She hurries up the steps and finds Chimney again. Hen leans close and whispers, “Very hard.”

           Chimney snorts and rolls his eyes, choosing an answer of silence. His response catches Bobby’s attention, however, and he raises a brow at the pair. “Is everything all right with you two?”

           Hen sighs, rubbing her jaw. “No complaints here, Bobby.”

           Bobby looks unconvinced but doesn’t press further. Instead he jerks a thumb at the refrigerator, “Help me throw together a quick breakfast?” The alarms flare and unfortunately shatters those plans. “Never mind,” Bobby say, running off, “we’ll eat later!”

           Emergencies should not inspire such gratefulness. Hen cannot stop feeling appreciative for the consecutive calls, though, lessening the amount of downtime in the station where she was liable of saying anything. She didn’t have to think about Buck and Eddie as a couple when on the job. They were her teammates. They were running into danger. They were dating, but that wasn’t important then. All that mattered was hers, theirs, and everyone else’s safety.

           Except danger can only distract for so long. The city began winding down. Their last assignment had them rushing onto the scene where a woman, thrown from a truck, ended up stuck in wire fencing. Her and Chimney drove the poor victim to the hospital with most of the fence still embedded in her, too close to vital organs. Instead of risking shredding them they clotted the leaks as best they could and left her in the capable hands of the doctors. Leaving them with a leisurely drive back.

           They park the ambulance between their firetrucks and wandered towards the common area. Hen spots Buck and Eddie sitting comfortably close, Buck practically resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder. When they see Chimney and Hen, Buck scoots a few inches away.

           Subtle. How was it never obvious?

           “Everything go smoothly during transport?” Eddie asks after they sit across from them, at a distance normal for friends.

           Hen and Chimney share a look. “She didn’t lose any more blood during the ride over,” he says, “so I’m betting she’s fine.”

           “Hope so,” Buck says, wincing in sympathy. “Poor lady kept going on about how she was supposed to get married in a few days… it’d suck if she had to reschedule because of this. I know I would hate to ruin an important date like that.”

           She bites her lip, dams up the rushing waters of sarcasm rushing in. Quells the urge to laugh and buries any retort deep in her stomach where she can vomit it up later in the safety of her home. Where Karen can help comfort her though the sickening ordeal of suffering with wasted teasing.

           As if sensing her woes, Hen’s phone vibrates in her pocket. She relaxes at the notification for Karen’s message. Almost forgot about sending this alongside a kissy-face emoji and a heart. Makes hers skip a beat.

           “What is it Hen?” Buck asks.

           “Text from Karen,” she tells the group, opening it. “I think it’s supposed to be a picture…” Hen trails off, recognizing the photo from yesterday. Staring at it brings up the scene in her mind, especially the boys a few tables away unknowingly being watched by the four happy faces in the photo.

           “A photo?” Buck continues, unaware of her inner turmoil, “what of? Ooh… is it naughty?” He snickers, gladly accepting the elbow blow from Eddie, retaliating by pressing his entire weight onto his side.

           Chimney’s gaze darts from the photo to Hen, frowning. “Hen, don’t…”

           She breaks.

           “Actually,” Hen says, “it’s a photo from yesterday. Me and Karen, Chim and Maddie… we all went out for lunch.”

           “What?” Buck turns on Chimney, “Maddie said you two were going on a date!” Too caught up in the betrayal, he keeps his hand glued to Eddie’s knee.

           Chimney shifts uncomfortably, squeezing his hands together. “We technically were… a double date.”

           “At that place we’ve been to. The one Chim loves,” Hen shows the others Karen’s picture, watching them. “Takoyaki? It was part date, part apology to Karen and Chimney. All my treat.” At the mention of their cuisine, the color drained from both men’s faces. Eddie swallowed exaggeratedly while Buck finally realized his position. He furthered the divide between him and Eddie.

           “Takoyaki?” Eddie asks, “Yesterday? Did you guys… enjoy it?”

           “It was interesting…” Hen smirks, leaning back in her seat. She leaves her answer dangling in front of them, pulling up Instagram on sliding different filters over the photo.

           Buck snaps, “Interesting good or interesting like you saw something?”

           Hen savors every second in an effort of making up for wasted potential earlier. “I think we did see something, right Chim?” she looks over at him, ignoring his shaking head. “What was it? Oh, yeah… this one man came in and ordered every single item off the menu, and then couldn’t even eat any of it he was crying so badly.”

           “What?”

           “What?”

           “What?” Chimney winces at her harried glare, “I mean… thanks, I almost blocked that from my memory. As if the… the nightmares weren’t bad enough?”

           “Crying?” Eddie asks, squinting, “What the… why was he crying?”

           “Well, he was with this woman – she was his therapist. And apparently, he has this fear of balls. So in some weird exposure therapy thing she made him go to the Takoyaki place as the first step. She explained this all in an apology after he caused this huge scene.” Hen snickers at the scenario she pulled straight from her ass. The others believe it, and she sees both of them relax slightly. “I felt really bad about laughing, but at least I was able to wait until after the therapist paid and left with him.”

           “Because slightly rude is better than fully rude,” Chimney mutters. Hen kicks him, accepting the retaliation with a smile.

           “Do you think that would be a good caption?” she shows them her phone again, Instagram active, the space where the caption goes blank. “We aren’t afraid of any balls #brave?”

           Buck chuckles, rocking in his seat. “How about – LA’s best and brightest, brave enough to put out fires and eat delicious balls?”

           “Or,” Eddie frowns at them, “leave the poor man alone and say – Good food, good friends #Takoyaki.”

           Pouting, Buck bats his eyes at Eddie. “You sound like such a grandpa. Stop reminding us why you barely use social media.”

           “Oh! I just got a good one!” Hen says, preemptively defusing the fight in its early stages by standing. She waits until all attention is on her, and then she continues. “I’ll write – The calm before the storm #whenyoufindoutyourcoworkersaredating. And I’ll tag all of us and you two, okay?”

           Hen barely resists the urge to snap a photo. Buck and Eddie gape at her, mouths wide in disbelief. Stunned into silence and inaction. She hears Chimney mutter under his breath as he leaves them.

           “Uh, that’s uh… that’s a pretty long hashtag,” Eddie says, glancing at Buck and hiding his hands under his thighs. “And, well the whole thing kinda…”

           “It doesn’t make any sense!” Buck blurts out with a strange laugh, “Like, why would you tag us? We weren’t there and… and dating? That’s uh – that’s… what makes you say that?”

           “Because we saw you two,” Hen shrugs, pocketing her phone. She lays a hand on both their shoulders, smiling. “And you’re both adorable. For dating and trying to hide it.”

           Eddie’s face scrunches at the accusation. “We were that bad?”

           “Once we found out the context, it became obvious.” She nods, letting go of them. “Congratulations you crazy kids. We all couldn’t be happier. Well, maybe if you told us?” Nothing left to say, Hen leaves them be. Trails up the stairs after Chimney and finds him sulking by the sink. Hen leans on the counter nearby. “I know, I’m awful.”

           “Was it really that hard doing nothing?” he asks.

           “In a moment of weakness, I couldn't take the pressure.” When his judgmental expression remains, she groans and softly taps his arm. “Come on, if Maddie had sent you the picture you would have done something similar if not the same.”

           “No I wouldn’t –“

           “Even you can admit not saying anything was torture!”

           Bobby shuffles towards them, sipping at his coffee. “What was torture?”

           Despite Chimney’s best efforts, he cannot stop Hen. She tells their captain, “Knowing about Buck and Eddie dating but not being able to say anything.”

           He tilts his head, glancing between the two. “Buck and Eddie are dating?”

           Hen winces, realizing her error. “Or, they were on a date? I mean we only found out about it yesterday, so we’ve been sitting on it for a day?”

           Bobby nods, draining the rest of his coffee. He steps between Hen and Chimney and drops it in the sink. Then he strides over to the railing and yells, “Buckley! Diaz! Can I see you two for a moment?” They climb the stairs, glancing between an impassive Bobby and a regretful Hen and Chimney. Bobby points in the direction of his unused office and trails behind them as they go.

           Now she feels bad.

           Chimney clears his throat. “Was it worth it?”

           She rubs at her eyes, groaning. “I really put my foot in it, didn’t I?”

           “Well I don’t think it’s my place to say,” Chimney chuckles, “but if Karen –“

           “Don’t you dare tell Karen.”

           “But I must. Otherwise how will you ever receive the correct punishment?”

           “I can handle that, too.” Hen already has an idea. She waits for them outside Bobby’s office, listening as he discusses the interpersonal relationship rules of the LAFD. About the many different forms they need to fill out and how dangerous it would have been if they carried on with a secret relationship while working together. How, at best, they work at different fire houses and worse case they lose their jobs. An hour later they leave with a healthy stack split between them held together by thin paper clips.

           Hen drags them into another aside, apologizing for telling Bobby. “I wasn’t thinking – I was talking to Chim and then he comes up and –“

           “Hen, it’s okay,” Eddie says, smiling, “we’re not mad about that. We figured Bobby oughta know about us and… well, it’s not like we figured we had a lot of time after you pulled the rug from under us. If we were as obvious as you said…”

           “Bobby even said he thought there was something going on.” Buck shrugs, a hand latched onto Eddie’s neck. Massaging it. “Actually, he said Athena thought she saw something at May’s graduation party.”

           “Which was impossible because we didn’t even think of each other like that then.”

           “Speak for yourself,” he laughs, “I think that’s when I put it all together…”

           Hen breathes easier, chuckling alongside him. “Well, if you’re all good –“

           “You’re not getting out of this that easily,” Buck smirks, cutting her off, “we’re not mad about the Bobby thing. The whole teasing us and making up that fake story about the balls guy… you still gotta pay for that.”

           She nods, crossing her arms. “I figured,” Hen sighs, “Which is why I had this idea… group date. Me and Karen, Chim and Maddie, you two – hell, we’ll even throw in Athena and Bobby. And your choice, my…” the words pain her, throat closing around it so tight she forces it out and scrapes the lining, “treat.”

           Apology accepted, Buck and Eddie leave her for the thrilling excitement of bureaucratic paperwork. Hen trudges towards the tables and collapses onto the first available seat. She runs her hands over her hair, back and forth, until the exhaustion seeps away into a bearable tiredness. Then she musters up the strength needed for telling her wife.

           There’s a message already waiting for her when she checks her phone. Blue light blinking ominously.

           You’re on the couch tonight.

           “…Chimney.”

#911 season 3 #911 on fox #911 fox #911 s3 #evan buck buckley #eddie diaz #buck x eddie #buck/eddie #buddie #buddie fanfiction #buddie fanfic #911 fox fanfic #911 fox fanfiction #henrietta wilson #howie chimney han #maddie buckley #karen wilson #hen x karen #hen/karen #chimney x maddie #chimney/maddie

[kylosbrickhousebody]

Ch. 4 of Quiet Hours is up

Ch. 4 of my super weird sadfic about KyloRen/Reader is up. If you liked Mercurial, you will probably (eventually) like this, too. NSFW

She stares at it for a long time—longer than she truly has to spend given that she’s already been separated from her work group. Her taskmaster is probably terribly confused; she’ll probably already face a beating when she goes back.

Still, the wonder of it holds her in place.

A credit.

Kylo Ren gave her a credit?

It’s there, unmistakable, on the table.

She blinks once, twice, three times, pressing her eyes closed tighter with repetition.

It just seems unbelievable. She’s never seen a real credit up close before.

She stares dumbly for a moment longer before realizing she should probably return it to him.

Having a credit on her person—well, it’s likely not even legal. Slaves can’t own anything, let alone carry currency. Possessing a credit is probably some sort of high crime.

She runs over to the doorway, peeks her head out into the austere hallways.

“Sir?”

She looks left; right.

There’s no one there.

Little legs carry her to one end of the hallway, where it splits into two leading to and away from the Bridge.

“Sir?”

Nothing. No response, no one in sight.

She runs to the other end, a little panicked now, whipping her head from side to side to try to catch a glimpse of him—the coattails of his cape, maybe, turning a corner somewhere in the distance.

Again: nothing.

She bites a lip and hurries back into the small room where he once sat.

It’s still there, still on the table where he’d left it.

She peers back at the doorway before she shoves it into the scratchy lining of one of her frock’s pockets.

Then she scurries out the door, into the foyer, down the passageways leading back to the Bridge. It’s critical that she re-join her group. If she doesn’t, she won’t be accounted for in the next check, and that means a guaranteed beating. Even worse, losing track of one’s group means she’ll likely miss both the next feeding and her next refresher break.

She nearly runs into one of the huge blaster doors guarding the entrance to the Bridge.

She bows her head at two of the elite squadron Stormtroopers stationed as guards.

“Could you please—erm—could you please let me in? My group was assigned to cleaning duties here, and—”

“Scram, filth.”

“I—yes, sir, I understand—but please, I need to rejoin my group, and—”

“I said,” one of the troopers says, shoving the butt of his blaster into her ribs, “scram.”

“Yes—yes, sir. Yes—”

She turns, quickly, and hurries down the hallway.

The cold sheet metal venting on the floor digs into her bare feet as she scurries out of the Stormtroopers’ line-of-sight.

They’re not going to let her in, and she certainly isn’t going to get away with tailgating an authorized person into the Bridge. She looked terribly out of place there—well, all the slaves did—and she wouldn’t even pass for a servant. The raggedy, unwashed standard issue of the slave uniform see to that all on their own.

She pauses to catch her breath in one of the less frequented tunnels. She presses her back up against the wall, the cool metal pressing into her shoulders. It grounds her a little, reminds her that she’s still alive somehow.

She waits a long moment, trying to clear her thoughts, savoring how pressing up against the wall slightly soothes her aching lumbar region.

She’s lost. So, so lost. She’s never been to this area of the ship before. Usually she cleans servant sleeping quarters, or the hallways in the hull: areas with predictable designs, created to maximize space and cram the greatest number of bodies and workspaces into the confines of the ship.

It’s clear now, though, that she’s very far out of her depth. The series of hallways she finds herself in doesn’t match the maze that she’s used to. This area of the ship is clearly designed for something else: comfort. Luxury. Flashiness.

None of it looks familiar at all.

She walks down more hallways, timid, trying to project as much feeble respect as she can in case she gets spotted. She presses her right hand up against the right walls, making every right turn she’s presented with. That should eventually get her somewhere, right?

Right?

It’s because of this frantic, desperate strategy that she finds herself actually relieved when she encounters another station of Stormtroopers. They stand guard against glass walls which look somehow familiar—maybe she passed them with her group—and she approaches as respectfully as she can.

“I’m afraid I’m lost, sirs,” she starts.

No answer.

The troopers look between each other. No doubt that she’s a strange sight.

“I was stationed with my group—we were cleaning—and I got pulled away for, erm, a specific cleaning assignment. Pulled away by a superior, I mean,” she adds quickly. “I didn’t just leave! I tried to go back to join up with my group again after I finished, but I couldn’t locate them again. I think by now they’ve likely moved on to another area of the ship. Could you possibly help me, please?”

One trooper tilts his helmet.

“Yeah, we could help you, honey. We could both help you. Right over in that break room, in fifteen minutes, when we get off shift. We’ll help you real good.”

She swallows, hard, shuffles a little bit in her place.

“Erm. I—no, thank you. I appreciate, uh…” she trails off. “Could you please tell me what time it is?”

It’s the other one who replies.

“11:43.”

Oh.

Much later than she’d thought.

She’d must have wasted precious time navigating the ship—or maybe the time spent with the Supreme Leader lasted longer than she thought—

She realizes, with a severe pang of regret, that she’s missed her daily feeding and one of only two refresher breaks.

“I—oh, okay, thank you—um—” she pauses, fraught with indecision about what she could possibly ask that might receive a real answer. “Do you know where I might be able to report to?”

“No idea,” the first trooper answers, sounding harsher this time, “but down those steps would be a good start. I’d get going before we report you for trespassing up here.”

That makes her blanch all the way white.

“Yes—yes, sir—of course—”

She hurries in the direction indicated, down a flight of stairs made from metal grating which tears at the underside of her dirty feet.

She emerges into a small atrium, simply relieved that she’s been able to get this far without a keycard.

Perhaps she’ll run into someone more approachable—an enlisted person, or maybe even a servant—who can direct her back to an overseer or taskmaster, back to her group. All she wants is to lay low, to do her work, to get the day done with.

She takes a right and walks down an arterial hallway lined with black pillars. There are sounds up ahead, she thinks; there’s faint clacking, fainter voices. She follows the noises, hesitant but nevertheless ready to accept her punishment and get it on with it, and soon finds herself tiptoeing closer to a broad sheet of glass windowing.

She peers in, obscuring most of her body behind the opaque paneling next to where the windows begin.

She discerns quickly that the room is some sort of feeding center; it’s set up similarly to the ones used to feed slaves, but this one is bigger, cushier. Cafeterias, she thinks they call them.

Multiple stations with multiple different kinds of foods line the walls. The people within—enlisted officers, it seems—actually talk to one another. Some even smile.

There are real tables and chairs—comfortable-looking ones—and refreshers off to the side for use at any time. It baffles her a little to watch the officers within just excuse themselves from conversations to use the refresher whenever they want.

And there: she spots what will become the primary temptation of the room. There, towards the edge of the feeding room, closest to her, sits a small table. She’s not sure exactly what the sign says, but the intention is clear. A small coffer rests beneath the sign emblazoned with some words and then the symbol for a credit. To the right and left of the coffer sit an arrangement of baked goods: odds and ends of assorted breads, day-old buns and pastries.

Just the mere sight makes her stomach rumble.

Slaves are usually only fed a porridge-like gruel once a day—it’s packed with all the nutrients you need! they say—and left to live life perpetually hungry for something more.

She’s certainly no stranger to hunger. It reflects in her body: in her lack of strength, her hair and her nails, the constant acidity that tinges her mouth from a stomach completely empty and angrily rumbling for more.

How bad would it be—truly be? —if she snuck into the room, placed her newfound credit into the coffer, and took a piece of bread?

She wouldn’t be stealing, she figures. After all, she truly does have the required credit.

And, true, while slaves aren’t supposed to eat food they aren’t explicitly given, its clear that the table is for cast-asides, for goods from yesterday.

She wouldn’t really be hurting anybody if she took something to eat on her way back to her group, would she?

The intense rumble of her stomach seems to provide an answer. She swallows back the newest wave of stomach bile and acid and walks into the room, confidently as she can muster, over to the table.

She tries not to look out of place, tries not to glance around to see if anyone is watching her: that would only draw more attention than her appearance does on its own.

She digs into her pocket and grasps the credit, then drops it quickly into the collecting coffer.

Her eyes survey the goods on the table a little greedily. There’s a half-torn bagel; a very dry-looking croissant; small end pieces of stale bread.

It takes a few moments before she sees it, but when she does, she knows its for her. It’s a small raisin bun, less stale-looking than her other options, small enough that she might conceal it in her pocket. She takes it and, indeed, pockets it, making quickly for the entryway.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” She turns, nervously, open-mouthed, to meet the eyes of an officer. “I just watched you steal, slave.”

“I—no, no, sir—I paid for it. I paid for it; I swear.”

“Paid for it with all that money they give you, did ya?”

“No—really—I had a credit, and—”

“You had a credit. Of course. And I have a luxury villa in Canto Blight, that’s why I work as a jailsman in the First Order. Please.”

The man moves forward, takes her by the arm.

“I know just the place to send you for punishment today. Consider yourself in luck. You’ll be getting a very special treat.”

“No—please—truly, I paid for it—”

“And even if you did,” he cuts across her, “you have no business in the cantina of your betters. You were trespassing at a minimum. And where exactly is your post? Aren’t you worked nearly all hours of the day?”

“I—well, see, that’s the thing—”

“Right. That is exactly the thing.”

“I—”

“Be quiet, slave-girl.”

She blanches white for the second time that day, falls completely silent. Her heart pounds out of her chest. She feels delirious.

He leads her back nearly the same way that she came: up the stairs, up past the two troopers stationed nearby, down an adjacent hallway.

He stops clear of a heavy metal door, which he unlocks manually with a set of keys tied to a clip on his waistband.

He rips the raisin bun out of her pocket just before shoving her into the room.

“I’m sure he’ll enjoy practicing his mysticism on you. Very painful, or so I’ve heard.” He cocks his head, considering. “Well, based on all the screams, that is.”

The door slams shut.

She manages only to make it to the other side of the room—a hexagonal cell, gray and dark and ominous—before she sinks down to her knees, the adrenaline rush shakes proving far too much for her joints and weak muscles to handle.

It’s exactly here that she curls up for the better part of an unknown amount of time.

The acid from her increasingly angry stomach burns her esophagus.

The hotness of her tears streak down the dry skin of her cheeks.

This is how she lies some number of hours later, slipping between light sleep and terrifying reality when the door opens again.

Heavy footsteps echo on the plate floors.

The metal door locks with a clang.

A tall, black figure stares down at her from within the shadow of the doorframe.

Kylo Ren.

#kylo ren #reader #ben solo #supreme leader #reader-insert #fanfic #star wars

[fire-the-headcanons]

 "What do we do?" Qrow muttered under his breath as the girls split off.

 "Uh…borrow Gungnir?"

 Qrow glared at the wall. Summer and Raven had already cleared it. "I'm      probably    strong enough to swing you up. We could climb it like you did last time, but I can use my sword and you can use one shield. It'll be quick if we can keep our momentum."

 "Kinda like leapfrog?"

 "I have no idea what that is."

Follow the Beacon Qrow—Acquaintances

[Link to Masterpost]

[What’s this?! A chapter?? On TIME?!!

Hope y’all are still safe]

Qrow was relieved when his aura finally recharged over the weekend, even more so on Monday when team STRQ walked into Combat Training to find the headmaster standing next to Professor Mikado.

"Obstacle course," Summer hissed excitedly, drumming her fingers on Gungnir's stock.

"We haven't practiced in a week," Tai complained.

"Yeah, but we're still going to do better this time!"

The four of them—like every other team—had taken plenty of time on the course since the first evaluation, especially after the headmaster had singled them out in particular.

"Shall we head outside?" Ozpin asked, apparently pleased with the students' enthusiasm.

Summer led the way, easily filling the silence left by the other three with strategy and encouragement. Tai hadn't been cold, exactly, since their conversation—but he had kept his distance. Qrow knew it was unlikely that he'd make it through all four years at Beacon with nobody finding out, but, well…Tai's first reaction to seeing him without a shirt was jaw-dropping horror.

That felt great.

Not that he'd ever had a chance anyway, he was dating Dan. And he was a Huntsman, for Brothers' sake, Raven would kill him—

...As much as Qrow hated the new rift it was probably for the best. Every time he thought about bringing it up he saw a different Branwen standing over Tai's corpse, or Summer's, and the words died in his throat.

Though, once it had been the two of them standing over him instead.

"Who'd like to go first?" Ozpin asked, jolting Qrow back to reality. Team DSRT stepped forward, and Dan blew Tai a kiss before Mikado's pistol fired. No, distance was a very good thing.

All of the other teams had improved, showing much better familiarity with each other's weapons and Semblances. More than half had beaten team STRQ's old record.

"We'll go next!" Summer shouted, stepping forward after getting the rest of their team's approval. They were ready, even if Ozpin had them go in pairs again—Raven and Tai had practiced getting over the wall and through the tunnel, using some of Raven's gravity Dust blades and a lot of coaching from STRQ's expert on the stuff. They still weren't quite as fast as Qrow and Summer but Gungnir was more than a small advantage.

"Hmm. Ladies, why don't you two try the course together?"

We didn't practice that! The four of them shared a furtive, panicked look. Raven and Summer were the ones with good mobility, and if Ozpin was pairing them together today, that left Qrow and Tai.

"What do we do?" Qrow muttered under his breath as the girls split off.

"Uh…borrow Gungnir?"

Qrow glared at the wall. Summer and Raven had already cleared it. "I'm probably strong enough to swing you up. We could climb it like you did last time, but I can use my sword and you can use one shield. It'll be quick if we can keep our momentum."

"Kinda like leapfrog?"

"I have no idea what that is."

"Right. Okay. For the tunnel, we can lie down on my shields and you can use your shotgun to push us through. With any luck there'll still be some ice left from Raven's blade. ...It's got more kick than Summer's rifle, right?"

"Barely. I don't have any other ideas, though."

Summer and Raven were racing through the trees now, Gungnir's arrow already sunk into the far wall of the ditch at the finish.

"…Look, I thought about what you said."

Qrow's stomach twisted.

"Or, I guess, about what you didn't say. Whatever's going on with you and Raven, you're our teammates, okay? We're kind of here for you whether you want us to be or not."

"My doppelganger from Halloween was correct. Your teamwork has improved considerably," Ozpin said warmly as they dragged themselves up onto the grass. Summer gave him a very winded thumbs-up. "Gentlemen?"

Qrow stepped toward the starting line, drawing his sword and flicking it out to its full length.

"Well?" Tai murmured, quietly enough no one else could hear. Professor Mikado counted down, raising his pistol in the air.

What could he say?

"We're not worth it," Qrow whispered back.

BANG!

He took off, and Tai was already a step behind so he took the lead. They raced for the wall, and Qrow grabbed his hand at the last second, running two steps up the wall before slamming his sword into the wood.

He clung on for dear life with his right hand and swung Tai up with his left—at the highest point, Tai dug his shield into the wall and Qrow retracted his sword. The blade slid easily from the wood a moment before Tai wrenched him upward—

Qrow angled the shotguns in line with his arc and fired as he re-extended the sword, driving him higher and faster, and slammed the blade into the wood again. Tai's shield retracted, and Qrow swung him up a second time. He kept his shield folded this time, catching the top of the wall and hauling them both up instead.

There was no time to congratulate themselves with the clock still ticking. They leapt down, Qrow slowing his descent with his shotguns—far easier now that they could be independently aimed—and Tai skidding to a stop as usual.

Qrow let him take the lead as they reached the tunnel and he slung off the gauntlets, tossing the shields down and throwing himself down on them. Qrow flopped down on his back and braced the sword as best he could, absorbing as much recoil as possible and using it to push them through.

They spilled out onto the dirt on the other side, undignified but faster than crawling, and took off through the posts. Qrow again took the lead, swinging his blade into the final post with recoil assistance and toppling it with ease.

They were nowhere near the ladies' time, but they weren't last.

"Much better," Ozpin said warmly. "Who's next?"

"You did great!" Summer squeaked, leading the team over to a clear spot so they could catch their breath, and Qrow grinned back at her. It was good to have an aura again. "I shouldn't have worried!"

"Who would like to go next?" Ozpin called over the crowd.

Tai waved at them. "Go watch. We'll be up in a minute."

They shrugged and headed back toward the group and a better view of the course. Qrow leaned back and breathed deeply. It was good to be whole again.

"What do you mean you're not worth it?" Tai demanded.

He sat forward again, avoiding his eye. "I mean, let it go."

"I'm sorry about the skirt thing."

Qrow was so surprised he nearly stared him right in the face. "W-what?"

"It was so stupid, and, and mean… and you've been scared of me since then. I completely broke your trust on the second day . ...I should have gotten to know you better before I tried any pranks."

Is...that really what he thought? "T-Tai, I'm not—"

"We missed you at meditation last month, Mister Taupe." Mikado said.

Still breathless from their run, for a second it felt like he was suffocating. "...I was injured." If he went again, if there was another accident—everyone would know.

"And I am glad you have recovered," he said, not unkindly. "In the future, I would recommend attending earlier in the month in case you are preoccupied during the last week. Particularly during exa—"

"What if he doesn't want to go?"

The professor cut off mid-sentence, and both of them stared in disbelief at Tai. "Excuse me?"

"What if he doesn't want to go?" Tai repeated. "He's already one of the best fighters in our class and he survived in the wild for years without one. Who cares if he's got a Semblance or not? What are you gonna do if he doesn't show up?"

"Uh… Tai— It, it's fine—" Qrow stammered.

"I believe detention would be a suitable trade. Which is dangerously close to where you are headed, Xiao Long."

Tai backed up, raising his hands in surrender, and the professor turned back to him again. "Please attend an extra session this month, Mister Taupe."

Well, forget that. He'd spend every Thursday night in detention if he never had to go back there and risk hurting somebody else.

Something brushed his arm but it was just Tai. "I've got you, man. Even if I have no idea what the hell is going on."

[I Am Struggling To Not Write Taiqrow

I love them and they'd definitely end up together while raising the girls but that would be… like… book 5]

Next Chapter: Raven—What Are You Doing

#rwby #rwby fanfiction #strq #team strq #qrow branwen #taiyang xiao long #raven branwen #summer rose #ozpin #follow the beacon #taiqrow

[theincaprincess]

Shelter at my future *part 2*

Here is part two for you my darlings :D 

Forever tag list  @amyf20 @blankdblank @moonfaery @deepestfirefun @catthefearless @meyoko10  @tolkienprincess @starlightintherain89  @southsidesarcasticwriter  @fuer-immer-jetzt  

Ori tag list @bettythedwarfqueen @tolkien-fantasy @thesmellofasinnamonroll

some tags are being annoying!

Catch up here 

Part 1

Word count 1,377

A year went by and your friendship with Ori grew and grew, he would sneak out of Erebor to spend time with you, while you would be behind the counter in your shop, or returning the books to their shelves  he would sit at the table at the window sketching the scenes outside or of you while you were working, and from time to time Ori would sneak you into to Erebor as you offered your help to sort out the great library, with your help the library was sorted within a few months much to the other dwarves confusion at how Ori managed it on his own, you were almost caught one day and had to hide under a table, until Ori managed to get rid of one of the old nobles, and sneak you out of Erebor all because some of the dwarves at Erebor still didn't trust or like humans.

Standing behind the counter you looked up to the ringing bell and smiled as Ori walked in with a smile on his face and handed you a box, opening it up you giggled "chocolate cake, my favourite, thank you Ori" making the shy dwarf blush a little. 

Hours passed while you worked and Ori sat quietly and sketched, just before closing time you remembered your new sign that you needed help hanging "Ori while you are here could you help me with something?" 

Putting his pencil down Ori nodded "of course (y/n), what is it?" 

"My new sign came, and I need help hanging it" standing from the table Ori went to the cupboard and pulled out the ladder and hammer with nails, taking them outside while you carried the sign, holding in your giggles at the small dwarf trying to hammer the last nail in but he just couldn't reach it. 

"Come down Ori and let me finish it" you laughed out and watched the defeated dwarf climb down the ladder and handed you the hammer, making your way up the ladder you hammered the last nail in and climbed back down stepping a few feet away and looked up at the sign and smiled. 

"Old Roots" Ori spoke the name out loud and smiled returning inside you made some tea and took two slices of the cake out of the box and joined Ori at the table watching him finish the sketch of the town. 

Collecting the cups you walked over to the counter and placed them on it, turning back around you heard the great bell chime, looking at Ori "you better get back to Erebor before they send a search party for you" you said as you watched the dwarf's face run through a lot of different expressions until it settled on a panicked face.  

"The dinner" Ori said in a panic standing up he gave you a quick cuddle and left your shop in a hurry rushing to returning to Erebor for the company dinner that night, as he rushed out of the door, he tried his best to tuck all his lose sketches back into his book as a lonely one floated to the ground in front of you.

Picking it up you left your shop and shouted "Ori your sketch" but he had already turned the corner, looking down at the paper in your hand you decided to unfold it, after looking at it you felt the smile slowly appear on your face because it was a sketch of you working, holding it close to your chest you returned to your shop, you would be lying to yourself if you didn't say you had fallen in love with the shy dwarf. 

.... 

Sitting at the table the company was waiting on Ori again, he was late again it was the fourth time he was late and everyone started to wonder why, entering the room Ori quickly walked to his place and sat down while all eyes were on him. 

"You're late again laddie" Gloin whispered to him across the table. 

Blinking Ori nodded "I was really busy in the library" everyone who was listening didn't believe him as that was his favourite excuse to use lately, listening to everyone weekly round-up, it got to Ori and he talked about cleaning the library and sorting the books making everyone roll their eyes and he slowly shut up letting someone else talk. 

Taking out the latest sketch of you that was in his pocket Ori looked at it and smiled to himself as he ran his fingers over your face, sitting next to Ori Kili was looking for the knife he just dropped and he saw the sketch.

"What new sketch have you done Ori?" Kili spoke as he pulled it from Ori's hand looking at it.

"Give that back" Ori whined but Kili held it higher up as Fili took it and looked at it. 

"She's a pretty lass, someone from Dale?" Fili asked in a teasing manner making Ori blush a little, something Thorin and Balin both noticed but the others didn't, trying to reach his drawing Ori was being pulled back from Fili by Kili as the others laughed at the new drama unfolding in front of them.

Trying his best to get his drawing back Ori's eyes started to feel with tears, something Thorin noticed banging his fits on the table Thorin shouted "Enough! Give him back his drawing" making the whole room jump and stop moving for a second.

"We're only teasing him, Uncle" Fili said as he handed it back to Ori, taking it he ran out the room to the laughter of the rest of the company at him being protective over his drawings, ending the dinner Thorin asked Bailn to stay behind, making a plan to get to the bottom of this with Ori.

....

It had been a month since the last dinner and the library had kept Ori busy, with the nobles families returning to Erebor from the iron hills and the blue mountains they needed books for schooling their children, sitting at the desk Ori had written down all the new supplies he was in need of and soon he would have to make the trip to Dale to get them all, where he would finally be able to see you, taking one of the sketches he had drawn of you Ori studied your face and hair, it was a simple sketch of you standing behind the counter in your bookshop, but it made Ori smile while he ran his finger over it, again and again, hearing a throat being cleared Ori's eyes shoot up to see who the owner was while hiding the sketch under the table. 

"Who is she, laddie?" Balin asked holding a soft smile and placing the books down on the desk.

"She's a friend in Dale" Ori blushed while speaking nodding Balin took the other chair and sat down. 

"A friend? Well, tell me about her?" Blushing Ori pulled the sketch out and handed it over to Balin "she is a pretty lass, Ori." 

Seeing Ori turn a darker shade of red while he started talking about you, and how he met you after listening to everything Balin stood and patted Ori on the back. 

"I'm glad you have a friend Ori" he spoke as he picked up his books ready to leave the library.

"She's more than a friend to me Balin" Ori whispered making the old dwarf do a double take, placing his books back down, he sat again and looked at the young dwarf in front of him. 

"Ori, laddie is she your one?" Balin asked holding a knowing look.

"I, I, I don't know Balin, I can't stop thinking about her and I've missed her so much and she's just...." cutting himself off Ori looked at the sketch and smiled making Balin laugh and place his hand on Ori's shoulders. 

"Well I never thought I would live long enough to see you finding your one, but I have now, go to her laddie and tell her, I'll cover for you tonight with the company" looking at the old dwarf Ori smiled and stood up in a hurry and left the library in such a rush making Balin laugh out loud.

Part 3

#Ori #Ori the dwarf #Ori x reader #Ori x you #Ori the dwarf x reader #You x Ori #You x Ori the dwarf x reader #Shelter at my future #Shelter at my future part 2 #Theincaprincess #Theincaprincess masterlist

[accidentally-logince]

Guardian Angel - Chapter 2

Summary: Virgil, sick of always dying and being resurrected again, decides to finally work out a way to end it for good. The only problem- he left Patton alone and depressed. Virgil makes it his goal to keep Patton alive until the time comes for him to join Virgil in the land of the dead.

If you missed: Prologue, Chapter 1

Warnings: Mentions of self-harm, panic attacks, minor swearing

Word Count: 1.1k

Pairings: Royality, eventual Moxiety

---

Patton

--- I can't believe I was so stupid. I should have known. 

I was allowed to stay in bed. I could have just sat in my room all day.

Again.

The hammering of my heart against my chest is so intense that it brings a wave of pain through my torso, where there are cuts spattered around, above my stomach. I wince, my hands balling up into fists again. Why did I try to come back? I wasn't that desperate.

"Patton." 

Logan's voice is almost drowned out by the ringing in my ears. My breaths come out uneven. It was entirely my fault too. I brought him up. I didn't even finish my damn sentence.  

"Patton," Logan repeats. "Patton, try to match my breathing. It's going to be okay. Here, let's sit down..." I crumple to the floor as Logan lowers my arm. "Hey, it's okay. Sometimes things get overwhelming. It's not your fault."

It is my fault.

"Try to match my breathing," Logan says again. He takes in a deep breath, and exhales slowly. I try my hardest to steady my shaky breaths, and keep up with his rhythm. "There you go. Keep going for as long as you can." He gives my hand a gentle squeeze. "You're doing wonderfully."

"I can't... go... home yet..." I mutter. 

"Shh... it's alright," Logan whispers. "You don't have to worry about that. Just imagine yourself somewhere calmer and try to breathe."

Somewhere calmer.

Calm...

Roman. He's in front of me. In his house. We're on the couch, and my arms are around his torso. His hands are in my hair. The lamp is on next to the couch, and the TV is playing softly in the background.

"Don't worry, Pat. It's gonna be okay."

His voice is so clear. Like he's actually right next to me.

"You're doing awesome, Patton. Can you look at me?" 

I lift my head and look at Roman. The light from the lamp creates a sunburst effect around his outline. "You look like sunshine," I mumble, almost half-asleep.

"Patton, honey..." Roman mutters.

"Mm-hmm?"

"Your eyes are closed." There's a hint of a smile in his voice

My eyelids flutter open, and Roman is kneeling in front of me. I'm still in the hallway. The tips of my ears start to burn with embarrassment, but my breathing has steadied, and I don't feel as panicked anymore.

"How did you know I was here?" I half-whisper. 

Roman tilts his head toward Logan. "Lo texted me." A mischievous smile spreads across Roman's face. "I'm skipping History right now," he jokes, sticking his tongue out a little.

"How very scandalous of you," I joke back, but in the back of my mind I feel bad for stealing him away from his class.

"Here, there's only like ten minutes left," Roman says. "Why don't we just walk?" I stand up, Logan lifting his hand to let me move.

It's strange. Roman was in front of me, and Logan was holding my right hand, but I could have sworn that I'd felt someone to my left, holding the other hand too.

---

I go back to staying at home. I'd been doing just fine while I was getting my assignments brought to me and working on them at home. Besides, it gave Roman an excuse to come over and spend time with me, which I would never complain about.  

A week later, Roman is a little later than usual. For a few minutes, we just lay on the couch, silent as a movie plays. When I ask him why he took longer, he produces two tickets. "I thought we could go to a play. Help you get your mind off of things." He hands me the tickets, and I turn them over to face me. 

"'Dear Evan Hansen?'" I read, raising an eyebrow. "Roman..."

I'm about to tell him that I don't really want to go out right now, but when I look back up at him, the hope in his eyes changes my mind. "Thank you," I finish, leaning up and planting a kiss on his lips. 

"I just want to make sure you're happy," Roman says when we pull apart. I turn my head away, biting my lip. A wave of guilt washes through me, and my hand instinctively brushes over my arm, sending a sting across it.

"U-um, Roman..." I start. Maybe I should tell him. 

"Yeah?"

"There's probably something I-"

The doorbell rings suddenly, cutting me off. We both stare at it for a second before I get up and answer it. Outside, Logan stands with his hands awkwardly bunched together, a messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

"Oh! Logan," I say. "What's up?"

"My parents wanted me to get out of the house for a little bit," he answers. He shuffles his feet around as he stands. His eyes wander over my shoulder, and he sees Roman on the couch. "Oh! Did I come at a bad time?" he asks.  

"Oh, no! No, it's alright! Come on in," I say, stepping back to give Logan room to walk by.

"Thanks, Patton," he says, walking in. He glances at the TV, where our neglected movie plays in the background. "Um, if you're watching something I can just sit and draw," he suggests. "I-I don't have to bug you if you're-"

"It's fine, Logan," Roman says. "Just do what you want. We're not here to dictate you."

"Alright then," Logan mumbles, sitting down beside the couch. He leans back against the arm and pulls a sketchbook out of his bag. He flips it open to a page spattered with forms drawn at different angles. "Just tell me if I need to move, or anything."

Neither of us say anything, but from the look that Roman and I exchange, I'm sure we both wonder why Logan worries so much about being a nuisance. 

Roman grabs the remote, turning the volume up as I sit back down next to him. Every few minutes, Logan’s head will turn and he’ll watch the screen for a few seconds before going back to his sketchbook. I lean over the arm of the chair and glance over his shoulder, onto the page. 

“Who’s that?” I ask. Logan starts, pressing the book against his chest. 

“Oh, uh, sorry, force of habit,” he says, slowly bringing the book back down, so that all the forms on the page are visible again. “It’s... its Virgil,” he says, half whispering

My heart starts to beat faster at his name, but I close my eyes and breathe slowly. I don’t want to have another panic attack. “Why... does he have wings?” I manage to ask, catching my breath.

“Because he’s... an angel.” When Logan says this, I can see the corner of his mouth curve up a little bit, and his finger brushes over the drawing gently. “I... like to think that he’s still hanging out with us, you know?”

“Yeah,” I whisper. My eyebrows pull up. “An angel...”

---

My Other Fics

Tag List: @thelogicalloganipus @monikastec @misstallip @aikogumi @pastel-patton123 @roses-for-roman @confinesofpersonalknowledge @phoenix-galaxies @well-love-has-failed-me @theresneverenoughfandoms @lilbit-gay @emi-loves-them @logicaltimeink @never-ending-sufferage @lunareclipse-524 @royallyroman @bunny222

#royality #moxiety #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #human au #morality sanders #creativity sanders #Logic sanders #thomas sanders #thomas sanders fandom #thomas sanders community #fander #fanders #ts fandom

[greekowl87]

Really, this isn't an ask. It is a demand. A demand for the sex failure fic from my headcanon. While I take months and/or years to work on my fic, I expect better from everyone else. 😉

@90saolchatroom Trying to finish this drove me crazy and I hope I did it justice. I really, really hope you like it. :) I’d imagine this taking place during “Little Green Men” since some of the lines are from the ep. Sorry for any typos. Tagging @today-in-fic

Mulder and Scully were no longer partners. The higher ups made that perfectly clear.

It had been an odd dance during their brief partnership. She did not know who was leading who. The more she worked with him, Mulder left her feeling odd. There was something she could not quite name. He was obnoxious and endearing at the same time. He valued her opinion, treated her equally…called her Scully when everyone else called her Dana. By the time they shut down the basement office, they found themselves separated and isolated again. In Quantico, her only company was lab reports and the dead. She began to worry about her former partner. Was he okay? Why wouldn’t he reach out to her? When she saw him walking in the hallways and he didn’t reach out, she became worried. Had she become that invisible?

One thing she had learned from him was the cloak and dagger routine. That was how she finally got him to contact her beneath the hotel parking garage by the Watergate. He looked like he had not slept in days and her heartstrings pulled for her former partner. Mulder looked wildly at her and more desperate. She stilled him, catching his hand, as he tried to pace restlessly back and forth.

Mulder sighed. “It’s dangerous for us just to have a little chat, Scully. We must assume we’re being watched.”

“Mulder, I haven’t seen any indication…”

He shook his head. “No, no, of course not. These people are the best.”

What did she have to do to reach out to him? To connect with him. “I’ve taken all of the necessary precautions. I have doubled back over my tracks to make sure that I haven’t been followed and no one has ever followed me. The X-Files have been terminated, Mulder. We have been reassigned. I mean, what makes you think they care about us anymore anyway?”

“So why have you bothered to come here covertly?”

Really? Was he really that obtuse? “Because I realized that it was the only way that you would see me.”

He stared at her as if she had spoken some foreign language and gazed at her as if unsure of what to do. “So what do you want?”

“To know that you’re all right. Mulder, you passed me today within a foot, but you were miles away.”

He gave a hollow laugh.“They’ve got me on electronic surveillance. White-bread cases, bank fraud, insurance fraud, health care swindles.”

“Mulder, I know that you feel… frustrated that without the bureau’s resources, it’s impossible for you to continue…”

“No, it…”

“Well, what then? When the bureau first shut us down, you said that you would go on for as long as the truth was out there. But I no longer feel that from you.”

“What should you feel then, Scully?”

“I don’t know, Mulder. Something. Anything. You believe I am still a spy sent to debunk your work?”

“No. I haven’t believed that since we got back from Bellefleur,” he told her. He squatted against the wall in defeat. “You aren’t a spy.”

She felt that snap of electricity again since she first realized what it was on the way back from back to Bellefleur. Tentatively, she reached out and touched his forearm. The touch went unnoticed and feeling still annoyed about him ignoring her earlier that day, she squeezed his forearm, instantly drawing his attention. As if sensing the shift in the parking garage, he licked his lips as if trying to form a word.

“Stop acting like you are all by yourself on this, Mulder.”

“I feel like a fool, Scully. Crazy Spooky Mulder screaming at the sky with no one listening.”

Scully sat back on her heels and took his hand. “Let’s go somewhere tonight. You come with me and we have fun. You look like you could use a drink.”

“I don’t want a drink, Scully. I don’t want to do anything…”

“One drink won’t kill you.”

She dragged him to his feet. “And you can tell me more about how you enjoy screaming at the sky…”

Mulder let her drag him to his feet like a broken toy and she wrapped her arm around his waist and he looked at her surprised at the gesture. “Sorry,” she whispered. Her cheeks were flushed.

He eyes looked at her tenderly and he wiped a stray lock from her cheek. “It’s fine.”

Reluctantly and almost awkwardly, she let her arm drop. “Besides, if they were watching us now,” she continued, trying to justify her excuse to go out, “a dive bar will be the last place they would think of.”

“It’s okay, Scully. I agreed.” He was quiet as they walked. They exited out of the parking garage and onto the streets of D.C. They walked together in silence, closely as if personal space had no meaning, and into one of D.C.’s less reputable bars. “It is nice to see you as well, Scully,” he added as an afterthought.

She gave a weak smile in response.

They navigated to a booth in the back of the room. A cocktail waitress took their order and brought two Shiner Bocks. Mulder shed his trenchcoat and pulled loose his tie. Scully took off her own jacket and sat stiffly on the leather bench. He stretched and threw his arms on the back of the booth, his left hand precariously close to her shoulder. She could feel the tips of his fingers grazing the edge of her jacket. The physical closeness still unnerved her but Scully had grown used to it, however, tonight felt different.

“Even though we have both established I am not a spy and the office is shut down doesn’t mean you have to go live in exile, Mulder.” She sipped her beer tentatively. “You still have a friend.”

“That’s touching, Scully,” he scoffed. “Where did they send after they shut me down?”

“I think you mean us, Mulder,” she mumbled. She cleared her throat. “Back to Quantico.”

“Back to Quantico,” he repeated. “And where did they send me?”

Scully remained quiet. She knew they stuck him in a new hole to transcribe countless hours of audio tape as punishment. No one wanted anything to do with Spooky Mulder except her. “Well,” she started, trying to break the tension, “at least you are saving on rent.”

Mulder narrowed his eyes and she swallowed another swig of beer, uncertain of his reaction before he chuckled and rolled his eyes. She saw the tension and stress from the past few days washed away as he slouched further back in the booth. “I don’t know, Scully. I still miss the cattle mutilation slides.” He licked his lips as his hazel eyes flicked over her. “And the company.”

“I agree with the company. I could do without the cattle slides. I do miss whatever it is we do when we talk.”

“Verbal sparring?”

“Something like that. It’s good to see you, Mulder.”

“You too, Scully.”

“I could say the same.”

Hours crawled slowly by but to Mulder and Scully, aided by the beers, time seemed to fly. By then, Mulder’s arm had found itself around her shoulders and she noticed how comfortable she was sitting beside him, barely touching. Scully hiccupped and looked at her watch. “I…I should get going.”

“You are in no mood to drive tonight,” he declared.

“Mulder, I don’t need a chivalrous knight. I need a taxi. And a hot bath.”

“Just make me feel better. Come and spend a few hours at my apartment and sleep it off. Then you can get a taxi. I’ll even leave you money.”

She smiled indulgently, her fingers crawling up his arm flirtatiously. “What happened to they’re watching us? Electronic surveillance, Mulder.”

Mulder suddenly felt braver and smiled. “Must be all the cloak and dagger you started earlier tonight. Maybe you are a spy. Come on, Scully. Amuse me. We can even play truth or dare if you want.”

“No, Mulder.” She sighed and saw the pouting lips. How could she say no to that face? “Fine, but just for a few hours.”

He put a couple of 20 dollar bills on the table and the two former FBI agents left and disappeared into the night. She laughed at something he said. Mulder let his fingers lightly graze hers and to his utter surprise, she took it. Something was changing between them. As they arrived at his apartment, she shed her coat and sat on his worn leather couch. He followed behind her, taking off his suit jacket as well, and collapsed on the couch next to her.

Scully could feel the intensity of Mulder’s gaze to the point she started to blush. “What?”

He bent forward and pushed away a stray lock of red hair and kissed her neck slowly. She stiffened and he rubbed her thigh gently in an effort to get her to relax.

“Mulder, what are you doing?”

“Hm. Checking in on you. Returning the favor.”

Her body was betraying her as she felt something began to awaken. Despite the tension she felt, she did began to relax and focus on the Mulder’s soft lips. “Mulder, we shouldn’t…”

His kissing grew more insistent as she felt her own body take control and her brain and heart become spectators in what was happening. He leaned heavily against her so that she had to lay down onto the couch to accommodate him. His hands began to unbutton her suit jacket and blouse. His rough fingertips felt the soft fabric of her bra and she drew in a sharp breath.

“Scully, you smell divine,” he murmured.

“Mulder,” she tried again.

He kissed her deeply, silencing any protests that she may have. Again, her body had forsaken her as she ran her fingers through Mulder’s hair and deepened the kiss. What was it about him? She knew that the electricity and chemistry between them had existed but she never thought it could lead to this point. For as second, she panicked and worried about Bureau protocol and any implications it could have.

“Who is gonna care,” he murmured. He tenderly kissed on the breast while his free hand palmed the other. “We don’t work together anymore.”

As she helped him get rid of her blouse, her own hands began to pull at his own dress shirt as her brain began to reply what he had just said. Who is gonna care, he had taunted, We don’t work together anymore. Taunted? Mulder didn’t taunt. He would not consider her some one night stand. If he was proceeding this, with her consent, it meant some more. Or did it? Her mind had blacked out for a second because the next thing she knew was that he was desperately tearing at a condom wrapper with his teeth in a rushed effort to tear it off and here she was, half naked on his leather couch about to get it. She should be happy. Joyous even because she had heard the rumors and how attractive the vast majority of female agents and sectaries found Mulder.

“Scully,” he breathed with the foil between his teeth, “a little help? Lift your hips.”

A ringing telephone interrupted them as both stared quietly as it went to the answering machine. “Mmmm…Marty, it’s Veronica,” a sultry voice crackled against the heavy air. “It’s been awhile. I miss you and uh, our lovely chats at little green men…”

Mulder reached up and ripped the phone off the hook and stared at Scully. “Scully, it’s not what you think.”

At this point, her mind having finally caught up with her body, she buttoned her blouse and began to gather her things. “It’s none of my business, Mulder,” she said slowly, lowering her gaze, “with what you do with your, uh, spare time.”

“Scully.” Her lowered gaze made him suddenly feel like an ass. What the hell had he been thinking? “Sure. Fine. Whatever. Be that way.”

“It’s clear we are probably meant to be just…”

“Work acquaintances,” he fished. “Got it.”

“No. No, Mulder. Friends. Maybe. One day.”

“We are…” He groaned in frustration. “We are friends, Scully. We are…”

“Just friends. I get it, Mulder. I get it.” She took a deep breath and gathered her trench coat. “Just the type of friends that hang out for a beer maybe or call on if you need an autopsy or follow on wild goose chases. I get it. I’m there if you need something. My mistake.”

“Scully, let me explain. Veronica, she…I have never even met her in person!”

She shook her head, already embarrassed enough. It was clear this would have been nothing than a one night stand between them. “Let’s just pretend this never happened, okay? We can still be work friends or whatever. Don’t be a stranger, Mulder.”

“Are you that blind? Scully, this is a misunderstanding!”

“Good night, Mulder.”

She gathered her jacket and slipped out the apartment door and into the night, vowing if what had just happened had not destroyed their relationship, she would still try to salvage any semblance of a partnership by pretending this night never happened. If he wanted a friend, she would be his friend and chase him to whatever he went because that is what she would do for her friends.

#xfiles #xf fic #txf #txf fic #early msr #sort of #msr fic #angst #failed sex #prompt #mulder and scully #mulder #scully #i hope this is okay

[bitletsanddrabbles]

Downton Court Hotel pt.3

I seriously wrote part three ages ago....and hated it. So I’ve been waiting for something better to come along. I’ll post it to Ao3 after I’ve chewed on it a bit, tweaked the phrasing, etc. For now, though, here it be.

(Also, I know bachlorette parties normally take place the night before the wedding. This one was done several days before to allow for everyone’s work schedules. Haven’t figured out how to work that information into the actual story yet...)

Fandom: Downton Abbey

Relationship: Baxter/Molsley, canon pairings

Characters: Thomas Barrow, Phyllis Baxter

Warnings: Sop, mentions of past bad relations of multiple sorts, cranky Thomas.

https://bitletsanddrabbles.tumblr.com/post/165776433184/downton-court-hotel-pt-2

There was still eyeliner clinging around his lashes. No matter what he tried, Thomas couldn't seem to get it all off. The rest of the makeup had come off well enough with soap and water and he'd finally been convinced the eyeliner was diminished enough to go to tea, but tea was over. The rest of the bridal party, sans bride, had already left for work. Soon he'd have to join them. Eyeliner was just the sort of thing Carson would notice if he showed up in it, and bachlorette party or no, he would not approve.

Damn Anna and Gwen for talking him into this. He was going to take his full weekend off and spend the whole time so smashed that the hangover lasted for two days. Assuming, of course, he wasn't sacked for wearing eyeliner to work.  "Phyllis?" he finally called, trying not to sound panicked. "Is there some trick to getting this crap off?"

For a moment he wasn't certain if she'd heard him. Then there were footsteps on the other side of the door and her voice, muffled slightly, saying, "I have some makeup remover in the medicine cabinet. Try that."

Dutifully he pulled open the cabinet, but was at a complete loss as to what he was looking at. Phyllis Baxter was not the sort he expected to have a medicine cabinet full of beauty products, and yet there were creams and conditioners of every sort on the shelves. "What does it look like?"

"May I come in?"

He wasn't quite certain why she'd asked. It wasn't as if he was using the loo, and it was her bathroom, after all. Still, he appreciated the thought. Without a word, he opened the door. He expected her to just come in and fetch the bottle for him, but instead she also got some cotton swabs and had him sit on the closed lid of the loo.

"Here, let me." With a somewhat strained smile, she popped open the cap on the little bottle and applied some thick cream to the swab. "Close your eyes."

"Thanks," he muttered, following her instructions. He flinched a little when the swab touched him, simply because he couldn't see and wasn't used to things that close to his eyes.

"You're welcome," Phyllis replied. "Although there's so little left, I don't know that it's necessary."

Thomas snorted at that. "If I come in wearing anything that might be considered makeup, Carson'll spot it straight away, I promise you. Then that will be that."

"Mr. Carson doesn't care that much." Her voice took on the gentle, chiding tone she used when she thought he was being silly, but didn't want to upset him.

As usual, it only served to irritate him. "Yes, actually, he does. He's almost as bad as Dad used to be, only he doesn't yell as much and..." He didn't finish the thought. "Anyway, I don't feel comfortable is all. I think about it and all I can hear is Dad yelling at Margaret for putting me in her Easter dress and Mum's heels."

"Well I think it did a lovely job of bringing out your eyes, but it's gone now. Hold still a bit more and I'll make sure there's no left over remover." The cotton swab was replaced with a warm, wet washcloth. "There."

Thomas opened his eyes, blinking a little as the wet lashes stuck together. He then immediately checked the mirror to be certain that, yes, it was all gone. "Thanks," he muttered again, then gave her a sideways glance. "I'll be sure to remember all of that if I ever want to bring out my eyes."

"The waiter at lunch seemed to agree with me." That was said in her teasing voice, the one she used when she wanted to make him smile, but wasn't certain he was ready to.

At least eight times out of ten, he wasn't ready to. This was not one of the lucky times. "The waiter was flirting with at least three different girls," he retorted with an eye roll. "At best he was bi curious and would figure out after one night that men weren't his cup of tea. At worst, he just thought I was tipping and hoped he'd get more from flirting."

"Thomas!"

"No, I've given up on romance," he insisted, leaving the bathroom for the comfort of the living room, his hostess trailing behind him. The one good thing about the other bride's people being maids (well, except for Daisy) was that they'd tidied up the debris from the gifts before they'd left. There was one chair occupied by boxes waiting to go out for pick up, but beyond that, Thomas could sit where he liked. He chose the recliner and, once seated, looked up at Phyllis with his best 'devil may care' expression. "It never goes well for me, so I'll leave it to other people and you can turn your attention to hooking Gwen up with someone."

Phyllis gave him one of those worried frowns she wore so often. Really, she fussed more about him than his own sister ever had. "Is this still about Jimmy?"

"What?" he scoffed. "Of course not. That was years ago and I'm over it. Better a best mate than a failed boyfriend any day." He paused and gave her a hard look. "And don't bring up Andy. That was never even a possibility, no matter what everyone else decided, thank you." "I wasn't going to mention it." Phyllis took a seat in the arm chair across from him, her hands folded neatly in her lap. "Really, I didn't ask you to stay so I could lecture you about your love life, I promise."

"Then why did you ask?"

"I had a question for you." She straightened and met his eye, smiling. She didn't say anything further. She didn't ask anything. The silence stretched long enough that Thomas was about to prompt her when she finally asked, "Would you like more tea?"

It was not the question Thomas had been anticipating. It was, in fact, so far from that he couldn't help a short, bewildered laugh. "What, another? I've already had six cups."

Phyllis's eyes dropped immediately to her lap. "Right. Of course."

"Is something wrong?" Thomas asked, eyebrows drawing slightly together. While he might complain about Phyllis fussing over him more than his real sister, the fact remained that he returned the favor and nothing was calculated to make him set aside his own troubles quite so quickly as signs that she was unhappy. If called out on the fact he would, of course, deny it or make some excuse, but there it was. "You're not having second thoughts, are you?"

The question seemed almost startling. "Oh, no!" Phyllis quickly assured him, her face lighting up with a very genuine smile. "No, I am very certain that I want to marry Joseph. It's only that the wedding is in three days and, well, I've not officially named my Maid of Honour."

Thomas frowned at that. "I thought that was going to be Anna. Or, well, I suppose she wouldn't be a maid. Not at a wedding."

"No, that would be Matron of Honour, and I think everyone's assuming it will be her. I haven't asked her, though. I've been thinking about it and..." She paused, then looked him dead in the eye. "I've realized what I truly want is a Man of Honour. Thomas, would you please stand next to me at the wedding?"

Someone else might have asked if she was joking. Thomas knew better. She wouldn't joke about something like that, not in that earnest manner. She wasn't the sort. He suddenly wished he'd paid more attention to what actually went into weddings, since the question was clearly an important one, but he had no idea why. "Well," he mulled the request over, "Would I have to wear a dress?"

This time it was Phyllis's turn to be startled into laughter. "No, no, I would never ask that of you. I promise. It's really no different than any of the other bride's maids, except you'd stand directly next to me and..."

"Catch you if you pass out from nerves?" Thomas guessed. It earned him another laugh.

"I suppose there's that although really, if I didn't pass out the first time around, I'm not going to pass out now." She paused, then shook her head with another smile. "No, the only real concern I had was that the...Person of Honour, I suppose, walks in with the Best Man."

That bit of information hit Thomas like a wet towel. "I'd have to walk in arm in arm with Bates?"

"I wouldn't insist on arm in arm."

"Good," Thomas huffed, settling back in the chair, his posture leaving no question as to his feelings on this development. "I don't need him hitting me in the shins with his cane."

"Thomas! I am certain Mr. Bates is capable of not accidentally hitting you."

"Who said it would be an accident?" Thomas protested. "Really, you all act like he loves me and if I'd just stop being stubborn, we'd be best pals!"

Phyllis gave him a disapproving look. "You do start things, most of the time."

"Most of the time isn't all of the time." Under his breath he added, "Although try telling Carson that." He picked absently at a loose thread. "Are you really certain you want me to do this?"

The disapproval softened a little. "I trust you and Mr. Bates both to behave. How's that?"

"Wasn't Margaret your Maid of Honour last time? Another Barrow might be inviting bad luck." He watched her carefully from the corner of his eye.

With a sigh, Phyllis closed her eyes for moment. "It's not Margaret's fault that Peter was a con artist and a thief. It's not her fault that I didn't get to know him very well before marrying him." She opened her eyes again and looked straight at him. "You're not bad luck, Thomas.

" "Well then," Thomas shrugged. "I suppose I'll do it then. I just hope you don't wind up regretting it, is all."

Phyllis stood and walked over to press a kiss to the top of his head. "I won't. No matter what happens, I won't."

#downton abbey #downton abbey fanfiction #modern au #thomas barrow #phyllis baxter #wedding planning #heart to heart #sop

[hellfireprince]

@bornhybrid four times Aryan fell in love (arranged marriage verse)

1.

His uniform was stiff with starch and he'd done nothing but fix the cuffs of his sleeves for the past ten minutes. He was getting agitated, standing at the front of the crowd of people near the alter, just waiting. Aryan didn't do waiting very well, he didn't like standing in one place for more than a minute. Sure, Hope wasn't the most punctual of people, but late to her own wedding? Sure, they weren't the best of friends yet, but they had bonded somewhat. He would have thought she wouldn't be too upset to be marrying him today.

At fifteen minutes past three, Aryan was annoyed, but ultimately not too worried. The car was stuck in traffic, there had been a last minute problem with her dress, the driver had accidentally gone to the wrong hotel. No problem, he was calm. Calm was his middle name. That tapping he was doing with his foot... completely separate to his calm state of mind. Just a way to pass the time.

Twenty past three. The look Aryan normally reserved for newly recruited army officers that hadn't bothered to iron their uniform was accidentally shot at an old high school friend when they came up to shake his hand and congratulate him. Aryan didn't even realise he'd done so until Travis Morgan was stuttering out that he recognised someone in the crowd and scampered away. At that point, Alex had pushed a glass of water into his hand to try to get him to steady his nerves.

By half past three, Aryan's uniform was getting impossibly tight around his chest, and he was cursing the decision to have the champagne reception after the main event. Sure, at the time it had been so the crowd couldn't get drunk off cheap alcohol before they'd even started, but now all Aryan wanted was a little liquid courage. Where was she? No, no he wasn't going to get annoyed, unlike his soon-to-be grandfather-in-law, who was calling every person he knew to figure out where his granddaughter was. Well... at least there was one upside to Hope being late.

When it hit four o'clock, it was final. Hope had run away. She'd buggered off and finally committed that last act of rebellion, leaving Aryan to fend for himself at the alter. But no, that couldn't be it. Klaus, Hayley, Rebekah and Freya weren't here either, and if she'd really run away, there was no way Mikael wouldn't have torn off someone's head by now.

At seventeen minutes past four, the music played. Aryan's uniform finally gave up it's relenting grip on his chest as his heart jumped from the pit of his stomach up to his throat in a move that was almost dizzying.

Finally, finally, the processions began. Aryan didn't pay any attention to Hope's bridesmaids - somewhat proud aunts that had insisted on helping Hope through a wedding she didn't want to have. No, all of Aryan's attention was on the woman walking in behind them on Klaus' arm. Aryan had always known Hope was beautiful, but today she looked radiant. They might not have wanted to be here, getting married to someone they really still knew so little about... but Hope's smile was real, and so was Aryan's as shook Klaus' hand before taking Hope's.

"Sorry," she breathed. "Car troubles. You look... you look good."

"You're beautiful."

His response made her blush, visible even beneath her make-up. Aryan was beginning to quite like that blush.

Without thinking, with a spontaneity that had Mikael seeing red at this point, Aryan leaned in and pecked her cheek chastely, drawing a soft 'aww' from her aunts and a surprised smile from his fiance.

"Thought for a moment you were gonna leave me here," he muttered.

"I may be a Mikaelson, but I'm not that cruel," Hope smiled. "Shall we do this?"

"Yeah. Let's do it."

2.

It had become routine for him - conjuring up the nerve to do something, spending all day worrying about how he was going to approach her, panicking just before he made a move, and ending up going to bed without doing or saying a thing. It was ridiculous. Aryan had been to war, he had run head first into enemy fire to drag out his squadmates... but he couldn't work up the nerve to kiss a girl?

They'd shared a kiss after saying their vows at the wedding, but it had been short, impassionate, scripted. It wasn't a Real Kiss. The little peck on her cheek had been more of a Real Kiss than the one they'd shared after they were ordained.

Aryan felt like he was thirteen again, worried about whether his first girlfriend would want to kiss him back. How did Hope do this to him? Aryan wasn't a little kid any more. He was a grown man. He shouldn't be so worried that the girl he liked wouldn't like him as well. She was his wife. They were supposed to like each other.

Today was the day.

Well... it was for now. Yesterday had been the day too. And the day before. But he couldn't think about that.

Tonight was the night.

A week and a half into their two week honeymoon, and all he wanted was a kiss. Nothing more, he wasn't expecting anything else. But they'd gotten closer, they'd enjoyed themselves... they'd been romantic even, at times. A kiss was the next step.

There was a drive-in cinema not far from where they were staying. It was pretty small, mostly just for locals wanting to rewatch their favourites, but it suited him just fine. Aryan had padded the back of the pick-up truck they'd rented for the fortnight with blankets and pillows, and filled a basket full of chocolate and strawberries and wine for the night. They were seeing some B-grade horror movie that was guaranteed to be more comedy than horror nowadays (though a part of him hoped it would be suspenseful enough that Hope might snuggle in a little closer).

The night was clear, and the movie was suitably horrible, which gave them opportunity to talk and laugh and cuddle a little. It was nice. No, better - it was perfect.

"That was an awful movie and you better not subject me to something like it again," Hope ordered Aryan, though her tone was light and playful as she shifted on his chest to smile up at him.

"What? You take that back. The Blob is a classic!" Aryan objected with a laugh.

"I feel like this is a horrible new insight into your character Dauidson."

"Oh it's not that bad."

Aryan bit his lip as his looked down at his wife. So easy. So simple. Just lean down and-

"Do you want more popcorn before the next one? I'll go grab some!" Hope declared cheerfully, sitting up and jumping out of the back of the pick up. "And I think I could go for a soda to wash down some of the wine..."

"...Grab me one too," Aryan sighed.

Tomorrow would be the day.

3.

Aryan smiled happily as he watched Hope dance through the bar. He didn't particularly like visiting his father, but it was nice to go out when they were out in the country town. The bar was always full of cowboys and girls, the whiskey flowed very freely, and after a couple of shots, even the music wasn't too bad.

Hope loved it, and damn she looked good, dancing around like that. The only downside was that she wasn't dancing with him. But Aryan could deal with that, for the sake of seeing her happy. Especially considering she was mostly dancing with his dad, so he didn't have to feel quite so jealous.

"Dauidson! It's been a long time boy! Haven't seen you round these parts since you finished your tour."

Aryan grimaced slightly as his father's friends converged on him, pulling his attention from his wife.

"Hey there fellas..." he muttered. "Yeah, well... trouble and strife likes it down here."

"You got hitched!? Congratulations! Don't s'pose Alex is dancing with the lucky girl?"

"That'd be her."

"Damn! You did well for yourself."

Aryan smiled as he looked back over at Hope.

"Yeah... yeah I did. If you'll excuse me fellas, I think it's time I tap in."

Hope giggled as Alex spun her out, only for Aryan to jump in and catch her."Well hey there stud," she smirked as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"Hey there darlin'," Aryan drawled with a wink. "You look like you're enjoying yourself."

"It's my kind of dancing," Hope smiled. "Who were they?"

"Dad's old mates. Used to go shooting with us. Pretty sure they think I'm batting above my average with you."

"You are sweetheart," Hope smirked, patting his cheek condescendingly.

"Hey! I don't think you're doing too badly."

Hope shrugged, stealing the hat off his head and slipping him a quick kiss.

"I guess I could have done worse, cowboy."

4.

Aryan very quietly pushed open the door to Hope's studio, peering into the room and holding his camera up to video her while she painted. Hope would absolutely kill him for this, but he couldn't help it. She never let him in when she was painting, and he just wanted to see her in her... natural habitat.

Hope was oblivious to the fact that someone was invading her space, painting a new landscape for her friend's upcoming display. She'd put it in anonymously of course, because no matter what her husband said, she did not want to expose herself like that, but she still wanted it to be perfect, so she had locked herself away in her studio to finish her work.

Aryan had to try very hard not to laugh as Hope brushed her hair out of her face, leaving smudges of purple and blue paint on her cheek and in her hair. After a long day of painting, Hope often appeared from her studio covered in colour. He'd been annoyed at first, as she had an ability to spread it over furniture if she wasn't careful, but now it was just endearing - a little quirk she had developed that only made her more beautiful.

After about two minutes of watching Hope paint, Aryan was beginning to realise why he had never taken up painting. It was... boring. His documentary could do with a little action. He waited until her brush was definitely far away from the canvas (he wasn't a monster) before he opened the door a little wider.

"We watch as the artist carefully adds a single tiny drop of white to her shade of blue. A failure to do this with absolute perfect measurements could result in catas-"

"ARYAN!"

Aryan actually ran right out of the room as Hope yelled at him, laughing and cowering in the hallway outside as Hope stomped out to meet him.

"How long have you been filming me?! Turn that thing off!"

"See, I would, but I'm concerned that it may be the only thing standing between my eye and the lethal end of your paintbrush..."

"What are you doing?!"

"Just... making a home video. Don't kill me."

"Oh, darling, I'm not going to kill you. That would be merciful."

Aryan swallowed, holding the camera out in front of him like it was some sort of shield.

"You're not?"

"No," Hope said in a deadly sweet tone. "I'm just going to visit your wardrobe tomorrow morning while you're still asleep, and add a few colourful flares to each of your suits."

"You wouldn't dare!" Aryan objected with mock outrage.

The whole thing was too funny for him to really take the threat seriously, though he knew full well he probably would find pink flowers or rainbow butterflies on each of his suits tomorrow. Weirdly, it didn't bother him nearly as much to think about as it would have once upon a time... not if it was Hope's doing.

"Watch me," Hope growled into the camera lens. "Next time I catch you, I'm going to invite your dad to move in with us."

"Now hang on! That's a bit of an overreaction, don't you- okay, okay! I won't do it again!" Aryan said quickly as Hope pulled out her phone threateningly.

"Too right you won't," Hope muttered, flicking paint at him before stomping back into the studio and locking the door behind her.

"Just so you know, you stick your tongue out when you're painting, and I'm pretty sure you accidentally brushed paint over it!" Aryan called through the door.

"You really do want your dad to move in, don't you?"

"No, never mind, love you!”​

#bornhybrid #v; arranged marriage #I was gonna do five #but my laptop was dying #so have four #all of which are adorable #drabbles