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superfanficnatural · 3 years

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Out in the Open

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Male!Reader

Summary: You always loved to tease Steve Rogers, always messing around with him and just having fun. Little did you know, he was going to pay you back for all of the embarrassment in full.

A/N: Ok so I haven’t written in a little over two months so I am soooo nervous to be posting this. This is also my first fic for the Marvel fandom and for Steve Rogers, I really hope you guys don’t think I’ve gotten senile haha. This was written for @anaelsbrunette “YAS’S 20TH BIRTHDAY BASH.” As always, I hope you enjoy!

This story was beta’d by the lovely @crashdevlin huge shoutout to her for her help. You guys should really go check out her amazing works!! ❤️

Warnings: Smut, NSFW 18+, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Spanking, Fingering, Rimming, Oral Receiving (Male), Rough Sex, Anal, Exhibitionism, Degradation? Praise? um... fluff? Once again, probably a few others that I’m missing.

Word Count: 4,692

If someone had told you that you were going to be working with the Avengers to fight evil a month ago, you would have laughed in their face.

Now, as you quite literally stand next to your fellow Avengers fighting one of the last remaining Hydra bases, you can’t help but smile at how you could think about that at this moment.

“Y/N! Get your head in the game! Hawkeye needs backup!” a voice rang out in your earpiece.

“I’m all in, Cap, maybe if you would stop staring at my ass you would have realized that you’re the distracted one here,” you responded with wit.

An eruption of laughter was echoing in your comm link, a disgruntled groan coming from Steve.

“On my way to you, Eagle,” you spoke up, wanting to get back on track for the mission.

After the breakout of the terrigen crystals, you were one of the first Inhumans to come into contact with it. You remember how you were taking something as innocent as fish oil when you started to feel like your skin was shedding. It was like a drug, booming throughout your system, making your internal compass go haywire as a black substance swirled around your body. Next thing you saw was darkness, a cocoon of it. You tried to move but you were incapable of such an action, frozen in place as you feared the worst. Eventually, you could feel your body begin to revive, as if new blood was coursing through your system, making you stronger. By the time the strange substance had broken into pieces off of your body, you didn’t know how long you were in there for, but it felt... right. It was as if a forgotten piece of yourself was finally found, you felt whole. Little did you know that your Inhuman DNA was then unlocked.

“I wasn’t looking at your... behind,” you heard Steve say, raising another laugh from both you and the others.

“Whatever makes you feel more like a gentleman,” you quipped.

Ever since you had joined the Avengers, hell, even before then, you always had the biggest crush on Steve. Seeing him on TV saving the world with that million dollar smile, you were swooning every time. Now that you’ve had the chance to fight alongside him, your attraction ran even deeper. Getting to know him, seeing him fight to protect humanity, who wouldn’t find that ridiculously attractive?

You glanced over at him on the battlefield, seeing him expertly take out four Hydra soldiers in six seconds flat. He was a bit ahead of you so you only managed to see his backside... no wonder they call that ‘America’s Ass’.

You decided that was enough looking and got back to the fight, giving Hawkeye an assist as you took out three of the soldiers that were attempting to flank him. Suddenly, Thor flashed past you at light speed and sent tingling electricity throughout your body, crashing straight into a pillbox and taking out a gunner.

“Damn it, Thor. Keep your electricity away from me!” you shouted into the earpiece, your legs feeling weak.

You could hear him chuckle even though he tried to hide it, “My apologies, Sir Y/N.”

You could have sworn he did it on purpose.

After going through terrigenesis, you had no idea what had happened to you. You knew you felt different, but other than that, you were mostly spooked. Instead of trying to find answers to what had happened to you, you had ignored it, not wanting to become a guinea pig at some military black site. But eventually, you couldn’t run from it any further. Whenever you had gotten anxious, or when any of your emotions were heightened, everything around you began to shake and vibrate. It was like you could hear everything around you, and when you focused on one sound, it would become elevated, so high that it began to violently shake. After you nearly caused an earthquake in your hometown, you knew you wouldn’t be safe any longer, you knew someone was going to come for you. So you went on the run, never staying in one place for too long, always on the move. You tried to learn how to control your powers over the few weeks that you were running, actually managing to damn near master it. You knew that you had the ability to tab into the vibrations of the objects around you. After some Google searches, you found out that everything vibrates on its own unique frequency, the plants, the trees, even your cell phone. And once you focused and tapped into those frequencies, you realized that you could control the amount of vibrational frequency coming off of it. It was like a cooler version of telekinesis, you practiced and practiced, being able to move objects around without even touching them. Then after about two weeks, you knew that you had more potential than you realized.

“Stark, get that shield down, now!” Steve belted into your comm, the sound of blasters firing and fighting all around him.

“Relax Cap, just keep staring at Y/N’s ass, I’ll take care of it,” Tony responded.

You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips, “Oh god, what did I start?”

“Something you’re going to regret,” Steve chimed in.

You heard a huge blast and looked up to see the shield surrounding the building had been disabled, or more... destroyed.

“Good work, Tony. Let’s clean it up,” Nat chirped.

Looking ahead, you saw about a dozen or so men with their backs against the trees in front of you. Chuckling to yourself, you thrusted out your arms and focused your power into them, building it up into a large shockwave that rippled throughout the forest in front of you, ripping the trees in half with the force behind them and taking out the remaining men.

“Damn, Y/N! You’ve been holding out on us, boy!” Tony remarked as he flew overhead.

You smirked, satisfied with your work as you turned towards Steve’s direction to see his reaction. The second your eyes found his, they were staring right at you, his body still and his breathing heavy, most likely exhaustion from the fight. Instead of finding shock on his face, it was more of pride, and something... darker.

Once you found out that you were able to tap into frequencies and vibrations, you realized that it could be applied to more than just other objects. Your body was also giving off vibrations, and if you focused on it, you could increase it and send it out in a form of a shockwave. And after finally learning that skill, the government had finally caught up to you. You had mastered your ability so you had no trouble fighting them off, being careful to not severely harm anyone in the process since you didn’t want to be a murderous criminal either. Once you dispatched them, your name was finally known by anyone with power, and eventually, Nick Fury had found you. He said that you had power that you could use for good, to help people. And once he offered you a spot on the Avengers, you were too starstruck to say no.

You couldn’t quite guess what was running through his mind for you had to help rush the base with the others.

“Smash!” you heard Hulk belt out as he jumped hundreds of feet into the air and crashed right into the side of the base.

“So much for finesse,” Hawkeye grumbled.

“It’s the Hulk, what else do you expect?” you smiled, running into the building yourself.

After about another twenty minutes, the entire building was cleared out and your mission was deemed a success.

“Alright, good work everyone, let’s get back to the quinjet,” Cap announced, everyone making their way back to the plane.

On the way there, you were ahead of Tony and Steve and you could hear Tony through your earpiece, “Is there any particular reason that we’re walking behind Y/N, Cap?”

Everyone once again broke out into a fit of laughter, Steve’s face turning bright red, “I’m not looking at Y/N’s ass alright?!”

His sudden outburst shocked us a bit but Tony was waiting for that, “Did-did you just... curse?” he feigned being shocked, his mouth agape with a hand over his heart.

“I never would have thought such profanities would ever come out of the Captain’s mouth,” Thor chuckled as he slapped Steve’s shoulder while walking by.

The god then walked up to you and threw his arm around your shoulder, “Although Y/N does have a mighty fine physique, I have to commend him on his power. Your performance was divine enough to be sung about in the taverns of Asgard.”

You blushed immensely, let alone his thick and huge arm was resting around your shoulders, he even complimented you, twice. Thor was always attractive to you, he’s a damn god for crying out loud! Although, as much as you wanted to see him naked and even go further than that, Steve had stolen your heart... along with another thing of yours. By now, both Steve and Tony caught up to you, Nat and Hawkeye walking with Bruce up ahead. The second you turned your head to look at them, they could see the bright red color on your face, and while Tony was trying to hide a grin, Steve looked absolutely infuriated. You were struck by the anger simmering in his eyes that you looked away, a little bit too fast, for you could still catch the hint of the smirk Thor had on his face.

“Yeah, what the hell was that, kid? I’ve never seen you do anything like that,” Tony questioned.

You blushed a bit more and chuckled nervously, “Just another trick up my sleeve, didn’t really have to use it before now.”

Steve still looked a bit pissed, but a bit of admiration was also found in his expression, warming your heart. To be able to receive praise from the man or woman of your dreams is something that everyone wants, and even though he never really verbally told you, you could tell he was proud. With a bit more banter and laughter from everyone, you got on the quinjet and headed back to the Avengers compound.

The flight wasn’t too long, maybe about an hour or so. The entire time, everyone couldn’t get enough of both Steve cursing and the joke that he was looking at your ass. You swore, he looked like he was about to throw everyone out of the airlock, his face red with embarrassment. Once you had gotten off of the quinjet, everyone headed back to their rooms to take their showers, everyone caked with either blood or mud. You glanced over at Steve before he turned the corner to his room, his handsome face bloodied and dirty, and couldn’t help the tightening in your pants. How the hell was he always so goddamn pretty?!

When you got to your room, you tossed your bag into the corner and began to undress. Your clothes were sticking to your body with all the sweat and grime and you felt incredibly uncomfortable. Turning on the water, you took a moment to let it get warm, looking at yourself in the mirror. You traced every bruise and scar that you had, counting all of them like the stars at night. You couldn’t help the grimace on your face as you looked at yourself. Compared to the other guys on the team, you were probably the least physically defined. Sure, you had muscle, but it wasn’t anything special, not watermelons for biceps like the others. It made you a bit self-conscious; would Steve really get with someone like me when there are so many better options? You shook those thoughts from your mind, getting into the warm shower with the steam rising around you. It felt amazing, the warm water was relaxing the tense muscles you had and was washing away the evidence of your previous battle. You sat under the spray for a while, letting yourself relax and just letting the warm water cascade over you.

Eventually, you decided that it was enough, pushing the electronic button in the shower, it turned off and you opened the door, drying yourself off and wrapping the towel around your waist. You turned on the blowdryer and dried your hair, styling it in the way you always do then walking out of the bathroom, the steam crawling across the floor into the bedroom. Walking over to your closet, you picked out your clothes, underwear, socks, a pair of comfortable joggers, and a loose short sleeve shirt. After getting dressed and applying your cologne, you opened the door to your room, planning to go to the kitchen to find something to eat, only to be met with Steve’s chest.

You staggered backwards a bit and looked up at him, “S-sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

He looked incredible, smelled amazing too. He was clean from his shower and his scent was intoxicating, making your muscles relax and your mind to go a bit hazy. He had no answer to your apology, simply looking into your eyes with a strained look on his face. You were about to ask what was wrong before his lip curled and he reached out and grabbed you with both of his hands, digging into your shirt.

“Steve, wha-” you were cut off by his lightning fast motion of turning around and thrusting you into the glass pane in the hallway.

“You think it’s funny to embarrass and tease me in front of everyone, hm?” he asked angrily, his face inches away from yours, his warm breath spreading across your cheeks.

Your heart was racing and your mind was moving a million miles an hour, “T-tease you? Steve w-what are you talking about?”

“You know damn well!” he shouted, thrusting you back against the wall again, this time his leg slipping in between your thighs.

Shit.

A small whine came from your lips.

He looked down to see your erection poking against him, his knee rubbing it frivolously when he had thrusted you against the wall.

He smirked, “Well look what we have here.”

He moved his leg dangerously slow, just barely so you would whine and break apart.

“Steve, p-please,” you whined.

“You want to embarrass me in front of everyone? How about I do the same to you?” he suddenly turned you around and pressed you into the wall.

You could now have a perfect view of the outside, people walking about a hundred feet below you, the sun in the sky, the clouds flying by.

“I wanna fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it,” he growled into your ear, biting it. “Maybe then you’ll feel as embarrassed as I was.”

Liquid heat flooded your body, your cock pulsing heavily in your pants. His strong grip was keeping your hands locked together behind your back, his broad chest laying against your back as he spoke. Luckily for you, this was going to be far from embarrassing.

“Maybe I will be, guess we won’t know until you fuck me,” you retorted, a smirk forming on your lips.

He sneered, “I’m gonna wipe that smile right off your face.”

Since your clothing was so loose, he had no problem ripping your pants down your legs, the cool wind of the AC hitting your legs as your joggers were bunched around your feet.

“Look at this ass,” he groaned, slapping it through the fabric of your underwear.

You jerked a bit at the contact and bit your lip, “Shit.”

He pressed you against the wall again, “Shut up, you’re only gonna make noise when I say so. For now, shut your mouth and take Daddy’s punishment.”

When he pushed you once more, his cock that was way too big to be considered a cock, pressed against your ass. You felt faint, your legs would have given out by now if he wasn’t holding you against the wall like he was. You didn’t even want to think about what he had called himself or else you would have came right there on the spot, and you were just getting started.

He spanked you a few more times, your lip hurting from how hard you were biting down on it to keep from making noise.

“You know, I actually was staring at your ass on that mission,” he admitted, “how could I not with how nice and perfect it looks?” he let out a groan. “Now, let’s see your pretty little pussy,” he teased, slowly inching down your underwear.

You never thought that someone referring to that area of your body like that would have been so hot but the idea that he was straight and was still going to fuck you had you leaking precum. Once he caught a glimpse, he got impatient and ripped off your underwear... literally. He pulled with so much force that a gasp left you, your eyes following a few pieces of ripped fabric float to the ground.

“This hole is mine, boy. You understand?” he claimed, grabbing your hole and the area underneath your balls with his fingers to pick you up just a tad bit further.

You whined in the mixture of pleasure and pain, “Yes, Steve.”

He didn’t let up, in fact, he gripped you a bit harder, “What was that?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you admitted, sagging in relief when he let you go but also missing the feeling his thick and warm fingers brought you.

“Daddy is right, boy,” he smirked against your throat, nibbling on the flesh there, sending shivers down your spine.

You had no idea how your day ended up like this but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, only being able to focus on the feeling of his thick finger pressing against your rim.

“Let’s see how tight you are baby,” he grumbled, shoving his finger into your mouth to suck on before returning it to your eager hole.

The second you felt his finger begin to push in a bit, your entire body tensed up, “Shhh, relax, let Daddy take care of you.”

You went lax at his comforting words, your hole opening up for him.

“Fuuuck,” you let out in a low moan, his finger stretching you perfectly.

He chuckled behind you, “Damn boy, this is a tight hole.”

He pushed in further, slowly, getting you used to it. You were a writhing mess, not sure if you wanted more or for him to stop altogether.

“Daddy, please,” you begged.

“Please, what?” he smiled, sucking a deep bruise into your neck.

“Please, fuck me,” all your reservations were thrown out of the window, nothing on your mind but this man and how badly you wanted his cock.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he teased.

Suddenly, you were left feeling empty, Steve pulling his finger out of you. However, you weren’t stuck feeling that way for long, Captain dropping to his knees behind you and spreading your cheeks with his hands. You knew what was coming and you couldn’t help the satisfaction from spreading across your face, your ass wiggling back into him before he even started.

“Someone’s eager,” he remarked.

You didn’t bother with a response, simply waiting for him to finally reach you. And when he did, it felt nothing short of incredible. His hot tongue pressed against the outer part of your hole, making your body relax more than it already was, your body nearly slinking to the ground. He spent his sweet time tasting you, teasing you, waiting until the last possible moment to enter you.

“God, you taste amazing,” he moaned, returning to his ministrations, pulling a moan to come spilling from your lips.

He was tongue fucking you with such skill you wondered if he had done this before. He was switching between entering and exiting you at a fast pace and keeping his tongue inside of you while wiggling it around, pressing dangerously close to your prostate.

“Ngh, St-Daddy please, just give me your cock. Make your boy scream on it for everyone to see,” you were begging and panting like a bitch in heat.

The added thrill of being caught if only one person below you glanced upwards for even a fraction of a second had you teetering on the edge.

“Such a good boy for me, taking his punishment so well,” he praised, getting back up. “But before I fill you up, you need to get my cock nice and wet.”

He pulled you back around to face him, placing a searing kiss on your lips that had caught you off guard. He filled it with so much passion and drive that your cock jerked, the sensitive head leaking constant precum. Right after he ended the kiss, you were left breathless and he had pushed you down to your knees. You barely had any time to catch your breath before he forced his cock into your mouth, the taste of his precum instantly hitting your tastebuds. God, he tasted incredible. Since his advances were so quick, you barely even had time to comprehend how huge he truly was. Now, with his ridiculously huge member in your mouth, feeling how it stretched your lips out, how heavy it felt on your tongue, you knew you had never had nor seen a cock as thick or long as his.

“Fuuuuck baby, just like that,” he moaned out, his chest vibrating.

The vibration gave you an idea you wanted to try so you focused your power as you were desperately attempting to keep from choking on his length. Once you felt you were ready, you used your power, vibrating his cock as you moved back and forth over it.

He instantly pulled away with an abhorrently loud groan, “What in the hell was that?” he asked, breathless.

You were a bit shocked, “I just used my power and vibrated you while I sucked you off?”

His eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly agape.

“Did I do something... wrong? Did it hurt?” you had gotten up and began to get concerned.

“No, no, nothing like that,” he let out a heavy breath, “it just felt so damn good.”

You smirked at that, proud of the effect that you had on him. Though, you wouldn’t lie and say the mood hadn’t been killed just a bit. To keep from the silence, you surged forward and claimed his lips as your own. Your mouths moving together, tongues entering each other's mouths, moving in a dance. The passion of the kiss reignited the fire in your stomach, pouring out to reach every part of your body, your slightly softened cock revitalizing. The both of you pulled away from the kiss and he looked sexier than you had ever seen him before, his pink lips swollen, his cheeks flushed, hair tousled, and his eyes dark from the expanding of his pupils.

“Enough, it’s time for me to fill that ass up.”

You turned to walk into the bedroom, thinking that you would have sex on the bed, but Steve had other plans. He grabbed your arm and turned you around, pushing you back up against the wall, your face digging into the glass.

“I told you, I’m gonna fuck you against the glass for everyone to see,” he smirked.

With haste, the thick head of his cock pushed against your hole, sliding in relatively easy from all of the preparation he made. Still, the feeling of his tongue and fingers didn’t come even close to the sheer girth of his size, it felt like you were being split in half. Though, you still couldn’t get enough, pushing your ass back into him, feeling the warmth and the pubic hairs at the base of his cock.

“Goddamn, this ass is squeezing my dick so good baby boy,” he growled, jutting his hips sharply, forcing an involuntary moan to rip from your throat.

He grabbed your traps as a way to stabilize both you and himself as he picked up his pace, the sound of his thunderous thighs slapping against the globe of your ass echoing throughout the room. Grunts and groans were filling the space around you two, animalistic groans that made your cock ache against the window pane. Being spread out, submitting to such an authoritative man, it was better than any dream.

“Fuck, Daddy, you’re so big,” you moaned, your hair flying over your face from the speed of his thrusting.

“Yeah? You like my big cock?” he wrapped his arm around your chest and brought you up to his, turning your face to kiss you as he continued thrusting.

Let alone everything that has happened and is currently happening, his dirty talk managed to ramp you up like no other. The way he makes you feel so insignificant yet so special, the way he pleasured you, it was driving you insane. It sounded like a clique, but he truly ruined you for any other man.

His thrusting kept picking up more and more speed and you began to wonder if he could possibly get any faster than he already was. It probably had to do with the super soldier serum... how else was his cock so huge? The window was rocking with the force of his thrusts and your moans were unabashedly resonating in the hallway, any care for someone hearing obliterated. Hell, everyone under you was probably watching as well but you didn’t care, it spurred you on. He was mashing your prostate deliciously, his pin-point accuracy both appreciated and feared.

“Fuck, I’m close,” you whined.

He went from rapid thrusting to a somewhat slower pace but with more force behind each thrust, making you cry out in ecstasy each time he reached that sweet spot.

“Cum, cum on my cock,” he commanded, his deep and gravelly voice sounding like music to your ears.

At his command, you let go, you cock spasming and shooting your load all over the window, coating it in white. The sudden increase in tightness from your walls had Steve releasing a choked moan, his hips staggering in their pace... he was close.

“Fuck yeah Daddy, fill my ass up with your cum, breed me,” you moaned seductively, trying to milk him of his orgasm.

“Oh yeah, Daddy’s gonna fill up this tight hole, get ready,” he warned, getting louder and louder until eventually he reached his climax.

You could feel his warm seed coat the insides of your walls, his member throbbing inside of you, threatening to send you right into another orgasm. He let out a guttural growl and kept pumping through his euphoria, shooting load after load into you, so much that when he had pulled out, a steady stream had followed closely behind. You sagged against the wall, utterly spent and satiated while he had leaned back on the other side of the hallway against the door of your room. There was comfortable silence for a few minutes, the both of you breathing heavily and coming down from your respective highs. Your back was still arched, showing off your abused hole that Steve couldn’t get his eyes off of.

Suddenly, the door had chimed and someone had walked into the hallway.

“Well by the gods!”

You recognized that voice.

You turned your bright red face slowly towards his direction, the rest of your body still. You could see Thor in shorts and a tight t-shirt, hugging his muscles in all of the right places. You then looked down to see the outline of what seemed like a cock about the same size as Steve’s bulging out of his shorts.

He reached down and stroked himself through his pants, “Do you have enough energy for another cock, Y/N?”

You knew you said that Steve had ruined you for any other man, but... Thor wasn’t a man.

You smirked, “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

Forevers Tag List: @magssteenkamp @shadowsinger11 @donnaintx @flamencodiva @impala-1979 @talesmaniac89 @malfoysqueen14

Male Reader Tag List: @brymalibu @myybebe @winchesterzforever @spnfanboy777

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miracleonice87 · 3 years

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’tis the damn season

an Auston Matthews song fic

a/n: based on the absolute masterpiece that is ’tis the damn season by Taylor Swift from evermore. This one was not on my WIP list but came over me as soon as I heard the song when the album dropped. also have no idea how it became my longest piece yet, by far (as in 12k+ whoops). obviously, I do not own any of the music/lyrics to this song nor any other I write about.

summary: Auston Matthews and his ex-girlfriend are reunited in their hometown years after their difficult breakup.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, allusions to sex, a delicate balance of angst and fluff. a bit of a slow burn, if you want to call it that.

_____

You might have been one of the few people on the planet who disagreed with the phrase, “There’s no place like home for the holidays.” At least, for the last few years, that hadn’t exactly been your sentiment.

But, you were home anyway, after a few weeks of your mother’s guilt tripping and your father’s repeated phone calls. And, admittedly, you were enjoying your quiet time at home with your parents.

After helping your mom bake a few dozen cookies for the Christmas Eve party they were throwing tomorrow night, you wandered upstairs to your childhood bedroom to change out of your flour-covered attire and maybe squeeze in a nap. An undeniable perk of staying with your parents during the holidays — so many opportunities to sleep. As you pulled on a well-worn, long-sleeved ASU t-shirt you found hanging in your closet, your phone rang.

You groaned and swore to yourself that if it was your editor again, you were quitting. She’d already interrupted your time off at least once throughout each of your three days at home thus far — your first week of vacation in the two and a half years you’d been with the fashion magazine. You rolled your eyes and reached for the sounding device on your bed, then recoiled when you saw the contact name — or rather, initials — on the screen.

Oh, god.

Even worse, the years-old contact photo popped up behind the name — a picture of the two of you lying together on the shore on your vacation four years ago, right after the draft, when you both still held onto the naive belief that nothing that had just happened in his world would change things between the two of you.

“Shit,” you whispered, covering your mouth while anxiety coursed through your veins.

You couldn’t just not answer. Right? The two of you were on decent terms, though you couldn’t quite remember the last time you’d spoken — probably seven, eight months ago. You had no good reason to ignore his call.

And after all... you were the one who had ended things.

You cleared your throat and, trying to coach yourself into mustering up some semblance of courage, quickly repeated, “Okay, okay, okay, okay.” Then, like ripping off a bandaid, you hurriedly tapped the green button and pressed the phone to your ear.

“Matthews,” you greeted curtly — tentatively.

“Kels. Come over,” Auston said abruptly, though you could hear the smile in his voice. “I know you’re home.”

You squinted and glanced around your room, racking your brain as you tried to figure out how exactly your ex-boyfriend knew your current whereabouts.

“What?” you asked, puzzled, not to mention slightly shocked that he was even interested in seeing you in person — though some part of you was, indeed, grateful for that. “How did you even know I was in Scottsdale?”

“Uh, your Instagram story, my dear,” he said, obviously amused. “You posted this morning from that new coffee shop between the Methodist church and our old school building. Remember?”

You rubbed a hand over your face, suddenly regretting adding him to your close friends list on Instagram six weeks ago after a few glasses of wine with your girlfriends.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, eliciting a chuckle from Auston.

“Yeah, don’t flatter yourself thinking I sit around and stalk you, sweetheart,” he teased. “I thought about replying but I didn’t wanna slide into your DMs and look like a fuckboy.” He paused, and you opened your mouth to make a halfhearted wisecrack that you didn’t truly mean, but before you could speak, he added, “Plus you probably get so many DMs, I’m sure mine would just get lost in the shuffle.”

Again, you rolled your eyes. “Matthews,” you repeated, whinier now.

“C’mon, Kels. Just come over,” he whined back. “I just got in last night. I’m staying at my parents’ house. My sisters nearly busted down my door when they saw you were back in town, plus I know my mom and dad would love to see you.”

Suddenly, two decades’ worth of memories that you had long ago pushed to the back of your mind flooded all at once to the forefront of your consciousness. Sleepovers watching Disney Channel movies and eating peach rings with Alex and Brey. Brian scooping you up in his arms after a nasty tumble off your bike on their street, propping you on the kitchen counter as he bandaged the scrapes on your knees, Auston never leaving your side nor letting go of your hand. Road trips with Ema to watch Auston play in countless tournaments, with you doing homework in the front seat while Ema sang along to the radio. Matthews family dinners eating Ema’s famous chicken tortilla soup. Vacations and carpool and pickup basketball games and shopping for prom dresses and just the mundane, everyday routine you had been part of for so many years.

And those were just the memories that involved his sisters, his parents. You didn’t dare let your mind uncover the buried memories of him, and him alone.

You missed them. Sometimes you missed them all so much that it made your heart physically ache and your stomach drop and your mouth go dry.

So, you drew a long, deep breath, and against your better judgment, eventually said, “Okay. Fine. But you have to send me your parents’ address. I haven’t been to the new Matthews McMansion.”

Auston huffed on the other end. “So mean to me.”

_____

It was certainly a far cry from the modest old ranch-style house where Auston had spent his childhood.

As you pulled up to the sprawling estate in the bougie part of town and cut your engine, you whispered, “What the fuck am I doing here...”

And still, after a quick check of your makeup in your rearview mirror, you got out of the car, closed your door and pushed your sunglasses to the top of your head, sighing as you took in the four vehicles parked in front of yours in the roundabout driveway, none of which you had ever seen before. Audi, Mercedes, BMW, Porsche. Well, you could guess which one was Auston’s.

You walked up the stone sidewalk and slipped your aviators into your purse — it was only then that you noticed that your hands were trembling.

You cleared your throat and exhaled sharply, willing your nerves to subside, as you arrived at the door and pressed the button on its frame, sounding an elaborate chime inside.

“I got it,” you immediately heard a familiar voice call, and you took a startled step backward as you saw his figure approaching through the decorative glass panes outlining the doorway. As he pulled open the door, the flutter you’d tried your hardest to avoid feeling for three years took flight once more in your belly.

“Matthews,” you greeted again, arms crossed in front of you in hopes of hiding your shaking hands.

“Why’d ya bother to ring the doorbell, you nutjob?” Auston asked with a broad smile.

Before you could throw a snide remark back at him, he pulled you into himself, one arm snaking around your mid-back and the other hand cradling your head to his chest. Inadvertently, you exhaled contentedly, and you swore you felt Auston tighten his grip on you then. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you let yourself relax into him for longer than you had intended. He just felt so… familiar. Broad. Strong. Comforting.

He was just… Auston. A thousand things had changed for the two of you, but the way you felt in his presence hadn’t changed since you were a little girl.

You inhaled his cologne, and you noticed that he was doing just the same — breathing in your long-worn Chanel No. 5 perfume, the same kind he used to save up all year to buy you each Christmas.

At that memory, you snapped back to reality and extricated yourself from his embrace, leaving him looking slightly disappointed, though still pleased with your greeting.

“Hi,” you spoke simply as you stared up at him, then chuckled at how stupid that sounded.

“Hi,” he mimicked, head bobbling and eyes widening, causing you both to fall into a giddy fit of nervous laughter over nothing at all.

Just then, you saw Ema’s head pop out from beneath an arched opening toward the back of the house — probably leading to the kitchen, you assumed. Ema was always in the kitchen.

“I thought I heard your laugh,” she sang. You couldn’t help but beam, and Auston smiled and moved out of your way so that you had a direct pathway to his mother. Taking advantage of that, you made a beeline for the petite woman you considered your second mom, already feeling emotion bubbling up in your throat as tears blurred your vision.

“Oh, mija,” Ema said, her voice tight as she met you in the middle of the grand entryway and gathered you into her arms. “Te extrañamos,” (we miss you) she said sincerely.

Auston cupped the back of his neck and quickly looked away then, fearful that he may just shed tears of his own.

You sniffled and murmured, “Los extrañé a todos mucho,” (I missed you all so much) into Ema’s shoulder as she smoothed her hand lovingly over the back of your head.

When you finally parted, moving past the brief sadness of the reunion, Ema still held tightly to your hands, extending her arms so that she could see you better.

“You look more beautiful than ever!” she exclaimed, and you dropped your head bashfully at her compliment. “California is treating you well.”

You nodded. “For the most part,” you remarked with a sigh. Ema glanced quickly from your face to her son’s and back again, deciding not to dwell for too long on that loaded response.

“Well,” she pivoted with a click of her tongue. “You look great. Now come, come! I know Auston’s going to want to steal you away from me, not that I blame him, but I just put on some tea, so let’s sit and have some first.”

“Ma…” Auston protested lightheartedly. Ema wagged her finger at him. “Shh! Mijo! My long lost daughter has returned. Give me ten minutes for a cup of tea with her.”

Auston’s lips parted at her use of the word “daughter,” not that he should have been surprised by it, and you tossed him an animated shrug as Ema pulled you down the hallway back from whence she came. You were right — it was the kitchen, and it was a spectacular one at that.

“Holy…” you trailed off as Ema patted one of the leather barstools at the enormous island in the center of the room. You took a seat, pulling your cross body bag from your shoulder and placing it on the island, and commented, “This kitchen is incredible, Ema. I’m sure you love spending time here.”

Ema nodded and excitedly launched into stories of using all the appliances and gadgets she had never owned before, walking back to the teakettle on the stove as Auston sat down on the nearest barstool, feeling as though he could simply be dreaming, hallucinating, that you were here, sitting with him in his parents’ kitchen. But when you noticed him taking the seat next to yours, you tossed him a classic Kelsey smile and nudged his shoulder with your own, and he felt just slightly more confident that this was reality. Unable to resist your magnetism, which hadn’t faded with time but seemed instead to have only grown stronger, he squeezed your knee beneath the countertop, just as Ema approached with a cup of tea in hand for you.

Choosing to react instead to Ema rather than her son, you grinned and thanked her, feeling Auston’s eyes on you as you lifted the mug to your lips and took small sips, Ema still prattling on happily from the other side of the kitchen. You eventually cast a sidelong glance Auston’s way, accompanied by an amused smirk, the combination of which left him beaming as he looked away from you and back toward his mother, who now approached with two more cups of tea.

“Thanks, Ma,” he said as he wrapped his hands around the mug she offered him.

“You’re welcome, mijo,” Ema replied. “Now Kelsey, honey, how long are you in town?”

“Uh, just until the day after Christmas,” you replied, swirling a finger along the ceramic rim of your mug. “This is the most time I’ve taken off since I started at the magazine,” you admitted with a hint of embarrassment.

Ema nodded. “Your mother said you haven’t made it home for a while. I know they keep you pretty busy there. Is that why you don’t visit so much?” she asked unassumingly.

Auston dropped his head and shuffled his feet awkwardly against the tile floor, and your eyes flickered to him as you racked your brain for an answer that wasn’t a complete lie but also didn’t unmask the whole truth — which was that being in a town that held so much history with your ex was simply too suffocating to bear, even for a quick visit with your parents. So, you typically just stayed in California where you could throw yourself into your work as a fashion writer at a well-known publication and operate under the illusion that you had moved on. From Scottsdale, from Auston, from your life before Los Angeles.

And especially from Toronto.

But the problem was, when the night fell and the lights all faded and you were left to face the truth, you knew in your heart that that’s really all it was — an illusion.

And from 2,500 miles away, Auston knew it, too. He knew it because he was living the same lie.

“Uh, yeah,” you replied sheepishly. “That’s the gist of it. Just, uh, just hard to get away sometimes. My parents usually come out to visit me instead since their schedules are, uh, a little more flexible.”

“Right,” Ema said skeptically as you took a long pull from your mug, despite the hot liquid singing your tongue and making your eyes water. “Well, either way, it’s so good to finally see you here,” she added warmly.

“It’s good to see you too,” you breathed, honesty dripping from that answer.

Auston finally looked at you again, giving you an understanding smile. Even that smallest of gestures made you dizzy.

“So,” you said as you moved away from the topic, sitting up a bit straighter. “Where are the girls? Where’s Brian?”

“Golfing,” Auston answered. “Like always,” he added with a chuckle.

“Why am I not surprised?” you teased, making both Ema and Auston laugh.

“They begged Auston to come with them, but he turned them down,” Ema informed you. “And now we know why.” She lifted her eyebrows and took another sip of her tea as Auston shook his head.

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” he joked. “But no, they’ll be back soon. They can’t wait to see you.”

You brightened at that, not having seen the Matthews girls in nearly as long as it had been since you’d seen Auston himself, finding it easier to breathe when they weren’t nearby, reminding you of him with their every mannerism. And yet, you’d found that starving yourself of their friendship and their company ached nearly just as much.

“I can’t wait either,” you said through a distant smile.

“And Dad will probably cry more than Mom did when he sees you,” Auston predicted, lifting his mug. Ema swatted at his arm.

“Don’t start with me!” she warned. “I happened to see you choking up out there, too.”

You turned to Auston and raised an accusing brow at him. He simply chuckled into his tea and looked away, and the three of you sat in silence for a beat.

“Come on,” he finally said as he rested his mug on the island, nodding his head in the direction of the sliding glass door at the back of the house. “Lemme show you the patio.”

You nodded, knowing full well that showing off the backyard was not the real reason he was inviting you outside. Despite that knowledge, you hopped off the barstool, put your mug in the sink, and kissed Ema on the cheek as you passed her.

“Thanks for the tea, mamacita,” you said with a smile, squeezing her shoulders. “Anytime, mi amor,” she replied, sending a wink your way as you turned to follow Auston.

He slid open the door and motioned for you to step through it first. When he saw his mother watching you through the kitchen window, he gave her a knowing smirk, and she put her hands up in innocence. But as she watched you two walk out onto the patio through the glass, she breathed a silent prayer to any higher power who would listen that maybe, just maybe, you would finally come home.

Not to Scottsdale, no. Home to Auston.

Meanwhile, you were trailing your hand along the hammock near the pool, taking in the scene and trying to remember to breathe. When you heard him close the door, you turned back to Auston, your eyes floating around the backyard.

“Nice setup they’ve got back here,” you grinned, Auston chuckling with his hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts.

“Yeah, it’s even nicer in the summer,” he commented. You nodded, stepping closer to the pool and lowering yourself to sit on the edge, patting the space next to you as an invitation for Auston to do the same.

“We have chairs, ya know,” he grumbled as he took a seat. “Not all of us like to sit on the floor all day doing yoga.”

You sneered at him. “Oh, yeah, that’s what I do all day long,” you said sarcastically.

“Well, you used to, anyway,” he mumbled.

You gulped as visions of him watching you do precarious yoga poses on the living room floor of his apartment flickered in your mind’s eye, and then, once again, you moved right along.

“So… how’s it going, Matthews? How’s life?” you prompted, not even sure if you truly wanted to hear the answer to your inquiry.

He stretched out his long legs so that his feet were dangling above the water as he wondered where to even begin.

“It’s… it’s good,” he said. “Overall. It’s nice to be home for a few days. Needed that. I missed it. Missed my family. Missed…” he stopped himself, “…other things,” he added under his breath.

You chewed the inside of your cheek and decided to avoid the path he was taking this down. “How’s hockey?” you asked instead.

Auston shifted noticeably at the mention of his career, still painfully aware that, despite the successes it had brought him, it had ultimately caused the demise of your relationship.

“Hockey is… hockey,” he said. “Honestly it’s good on the whole. But the team’s not having the greatest year so far, which is rough.” You nodded, knowing better than most that the Toronto media operated at a different level of intensity and scrutiny than that of nearly all other markets, especially when the Leafs were losing, and especially when new blood was added into the equation, like Auston’s had been when they drafted him.

Like yours had been when you moved there with him.

The spotlight they shone on you — and the subsequent attention you received from so-called fans who took to the internet to question your intentions and integrity — had been far more than you bargained for.

Just as you were about to ask about how the guys on the team were faring, Auston spoke again.

“I think about calling you every time we come to LA, Kels,” he said, fixing his eyes on the neighbor’s house in the distance because he was simply unable to look at you while he admitted it. With a sniff, he added, “I’m not gonna lie about that.”

“Why don’t you?” you asked after a beat, maybe unfairly, studying his familiar profile. His features were the same, of course, but he looked… more mature. Older. Wiser. All that jazz. Auston shrugged, still not capable of looking at you.

“Just didn’t think you’d want me to,” he answered dejectedly. Your heart sank into your stomach. Given the things you’d said when you left him nearly three years ago, you could hardly blame him for that one.

“Well,” you started with a sigh. “I guess we could call it even then, because I think about coming to see you play every time you come to LA. Or Anaheim. Or even Vegas. And obviously Phoenix.”

“Well why didn’t you just call me asking for free tickets then,” he said in a tone that he tried to disguise as facetious, but you heard the hurt seeping into his words. “Everybody else I know in any NHL city does.”

You felt a fierce sense of protectiveness then, clenching your jaw as you tried to calm your irate thoughts. You watched him pick at the sleeve of his black Raiders crewneck and felt deeply for him — this man you’d loved since he was a little boy.

“Do they really? Still?” you asked in monotone.

Auston nodded, squinting in the sunlight. “Yup,” he answered, popping the ‘p.’ “Every game.”

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, covering your eyes with your hand and pushing into your temples. You blew out a long breath. “Fuck. I’m really sorry about that. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but I… it just sucks.”

Auston shrugged. “It’s not your fault,” he stated. “Sometimes I do it, sometimes I don’t. Kinda depends on whether the person’s actually talked to me lately.”

You nodded as he chuckled sadly, and you felt your chest tighten. “Well,” you began, clearing your throat. “I guess I wouldn’t qualify then because we haven’t talked much.”

Auston looked at you with intensity surging in his deep brown eyes, and you wanted to look away but found that you couldn’t.

“You always qualify,” he said seriously. “You’re one of the only people that qualifies.”

You bit down, hard, on your bottom lip and grappled internally with the weight of his comment. Then he said sarcastically, “Besides, I know you’re only after my money. I mean, you forced me to buy you that Louis bag the week after I got drafted.”

Your jaw dropped at his joke, and you scoffed indignantly. “Oh, yeah, the one you finally had to hide in my closet after I kept sneaking it back into your car because I wanted you to return it?” you corrected. “Yeah, ya caught me. You know me, Aus. Such a gold digger.”

Auston had started laughing halfway through your quip, but stopped suddenly. You gave him a questioning look, and he paused before answering.

“You called me Aus,” he stated with a smile he tried and failed to hide. “You went back to calling me Matthews after we broke up. But you… you just called me Aus again.”

“Yeah, well...” you grumbled, “Don’t get too excited.” You tossed him a smirk and he mirrored it, basking in the comfort of the moment.

“So whaddya think of the place? Not bad, right?” he finally asked, glancing around the property, back at the house, then settling his focus back on you.

You shrugged. “A little gaudy for my taste, but...” you began, and Auston shook his head bemusedly, knowing he set himself up for that one.

“No, it’s great. I can see how much your mom loves it. In all seriousness, I think it’s amazing, everything you’ve done for your family. Your parents. It’s pretty incredible,” you said earnestly. “I don’t think I said it enough when we were together, but, I’m really proud of you, Aus. And I don’t just mean about the hockey.”

Auston nodded soberly, turning his head to look you in the eye.

“I know you don’t,” he said quietly. “Thanks, Kels. It means a lot coming from you. More, uh… more than you know.”

And then, before you could think twice about doing so, you reached out your hand to rest atop his, feeling its familiar warmth as your fingertips grazed the raised veins there. Auston swallowed hard, blinking at where your hands now met, and slowly wrapped your fingers in his, giving them a squeeze. You exchanged long stares before you eventually slammed on the brakes in your brain and carried on.

“So, you just casually hang out with Justin Bieber now?” you asked, reaching your palms behind you and leaning back. “And the wildest shit is that I saw it first when he posted it, not you.”

Auston chuckled, looking down at his slides and — ironically — Drew socks combo. In his signature way, he halted his laughter on a dime and his face turned somber as he said dryly, “Yeah, I’m like really famous now, yanno?”

You sighed in annoyance, rolling your eyes as you looked skyward, feeling Auston’s gaze turn to you. You let it go for a few moments before shifting only your eyes toward his.

“What?” you asked accusingly. You could tell by the faraway smirk on his face that he was lost in a memory.

“Remember you had posters of him hung up all over your room in like middle school? From Tiger Beat magazine and shit? And now I play video games and mini sticks with the guy,” Auston said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, and if you ever tell him about that, I’ll end your life,” you threatened, shoving at his arm and attempting to ignore how much his biceps had grown since you last touched them. And then you were slamming the door shut on a rush of memories of having him beneath your touch — some innocent, but most intimate.

Auston saw it in your eyes — the place you went for a moment — as you dropped your hand back to the concrete beneath you. He knew where you went because, so often, he went there, too.

He held your gaze and promised, “Your secret’s safe with me. You know that.”

Only a hint of a smile graced your lips for a fleeting moment as you ran your fingers through your hair. Suddenly, you felt the heaviness of the history between the two of you closing in — smothering you, like it always did. Auston watched helplessly, wishing it didn’t have to be this hard.

And then, in a flash, like he so often did to save you from your swirling thoughts, he casually changed the topic as he commented, “Your hair’s shorter. You look like your mom. In a good way.”

Blushing, you breathed a laugh through your nose. “Thanks,” you said softly. “I think it’s the highlights, too.”

“It is,” Auston confirmed, and then — damn him — he reached out and looped a lock from the front of your face between his thumb and forefinger, the way he had done a thousand times before, usually mid-conversation, always absentmindedly. This time, you knew, as you forced your eyes to meet his, it was a bit more calculated. “I really like it,” he told you.

You nodded, searching his eyes to try and determine whether he had any idea what this — this moment, this visit, this day — really was.

“If you’re gonna ask me what we’re doing,” Auston spoke, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth for a second, “then I have to tell you I have no idea.”

Again, damn him. After all this time, it was like he still lived inside your brain and had read your every thought like the morning paper before you even had the chance to convey it. Which used to save you in a lot of ways. Now it felt kind of… intrusive. But somehow you didn’t mind.

“I had no idea what I was even gonna say when I called you. All I know,” he continued, still flipping the strand of hair around his fingers, “is that I really wanted to see you, and that I was really happy when you came, and that I’m really enjoying this time with you.”

You nodded, and as he pulled his hand from your face, his thumb brushed your jawline just slightly, and that touch alone sent a bolt of lightning through you. Auston smiled softly as he said barely above a whisper, “Okay, now it’s your turn to say something.”

You heaved a sigh, tipping your head back with eyes closed and soaking in the sunshine. “I don’t expect you to know, Aus,” you finally spoke. “I was just so... so shocked, I guess, that you wanted to see me. It’s been so long, I just... I didn’t know when I would see you again.”

“We’ve talked though,” Auston pointed out with a sigh to match yours, pulling a knee to his chest and wrapping his arms around his bent leg. “FaceTimed. Texted.”

You rolled your head toward him. “It’s not the same,” you reasoned softly, hesitantly reaching out your hand to tuck some of his black hair behind his ear. He licked his lips swiftly and placed a peck to your thumb before you slowly withdrew your hand.

“You’re right,” Auston conceded. “Definitely not the same.”

“Uh, sorry to interrupt...”

You were snapped out of your private moment by one person’s voice and another person’s squeal behind you.

“Oh, my god!” you yelled as you shot up from the side of the pool, Alexandria and Breyana already scampering toward you from the back door.

“It’s about goddamn time you came back to us!” Alex shrieked, wrapping her arms around you tightly. “I missed you, little sister,” she cooed, rubbing her hands across your back, and you hummed in agreement.

“I missed you, Al,” you replied, kissing her temple as you stepped back to greet the youngest of the Matthews clan.

“And you. My baby!” you exclaimed, pulling Breyana into your arms. “The true star athlete of the family,” you teased as she squeezed your waist.

“Damn straight,” Breyana giggled. “I missed you, Kels. I can’t believe you’re here!”

You pulled away, glancing behind you as you saw Auston slowly approaching out of the corner of your eye. “Me either,” you admitted, eyes widening dramatically as the girls snickered at you. “How was golf?”

“Brey smoked us, no surprise,” Alex replied. “But shut up about the golf. Tell us what’s going on with you two.”

“Alex!” Auston warned, shooting her a glare. “Please don’t.”

Alex gave him her best older sister roll of the eyes and crossed her arms over her chest as Breyana looked between the two of you.

“Nope,” Alex refused. “Not until you tell me what’s up. C’mon, spill.”

“We’re just...” you began, swiveling to look Auston’s way as he smirked down at you, happy to let you flounder in this one all on your own. “Visiting,” you finished, nodding once at Alex, pleased with your choice of verbiage.

“Honestly, you guys…” Breyana lamented.

“Visiting, huh?” Alex echoed, growing even more suspicious. “Yeah, okay. Sure. Wear protection. Anyways, uh—“

“Alex!” Auston repeated, this time through clenched teeth. “I swear to god...”

“Anyways, like I was saying,” Alex continued. “Your parents invited us all to their house tomorrow night for the Christmas party. I didn’t think you were gonna be there — does this mean you will?”

You nodded, causing Alex to clap excitedly. “I’ll be there with bells on,” you confirmed. “I already made my shortbread cookies.” All three siblings moaned in delight at the mention of your famous treats.

“Hell yeah! Plus that means we won’t be the only ones escaping to the balcony to drink,” Breyana commented.

“Brey, you’re like twelve,” Auston taunted, earning him a sharp elbow to the ribs from his younger sister. “You don’t get to drink with us.”

“Whatever,” she retorted. “Like you guys weren’t sneaking Mom and Dad’s liquor when you were younger than me.”

“Anyways,” Alex said yet again, clearing her throat. “We’re gonna go back inside now and shower, and just, uh, leave you guys to whatever it is you were doing beside the pool there. ‘Kay? ‘Kay. See ya,” she sang, spinning Breyana by the shoulders and guiding her inside, both girls whispering and giggling all the while. “Kels, I’ll call you tonight — you can tell me all about it!” Alex called over her shoulder, sliding the door closed.

You turned to see a pink tinge to Auston’s cheeks as he muttered, “Sorry,” with a dry laugh. You shook your head.

“No, don’t be,” you insisted, waving him off as you took a seat at the glass picnic table beside you, Auston following your lead. “It wouldn’t be a visit to the Matthews house without Alex torturing the both of us,” you teased.

Auston nodded. “Very true,” he said, and you knew he didn’t want to stop there, but he couldn’t seem to find what he did want to say next.

Instead, you ventured, “So what are your—”

At the very same time, he started, “Kels, would you maybe—”

You both chuckled at yourselves, locking eyes. This certainly wasn’t the first time this had happened in conversations — far from it. And usually, you were about to say the very same thing.

So, you motioned for him to speak first.

He toyed with the band of his watch as he said nervously, “I was just gonna say, uh, would you maybe wanna go to dinner with me? Tonight?”

You sat back in your chair, smirking, fully aware that you were teetering on a damn fine line.

“I was hoping you might say that.”

_____

An hour later, after reuniting with Brian (Auston was right — he cried more than the rest of his family combined when he hugged you), you headed home to change for dinner. As you pulled away from the Matthews house, you were thankful that Auston had offered to follow you in his own vehicle so that he could drive you to dinner, which in turn gave each of you a few minutes to breathe.

Surprisingly, your mother didn’t seem at all shocked to see the guest you had brought back with you. You had told her that you were going to visit the Matthews’, not specifying which member of the family had invited you, though she could venture a guess. When she watched two vehicles pull into the driveway side by side, she inhaled an excited gasp, a smile overwhelming her features as she came to meet you at the front door, just as you laughed at a lame joke Auston cracked about your driving.

Your mother nearly tackled him in a hug, which he warmly returned. He shared a similar bond with your mom to the one you shared with his, which was yet another piece that fit perfectly into the puzzle that was your relationship. So many pieces fit, and so few didn’t, but that still didn’t make things whole.

But, you ignored that thought — and so many others — as you left the two to chat, bounding up the stairs to change, now grateful that you’d brought more than one nice option to wear to the Christmas party tomorrow, considering the rest of your suitcase was filled with comfy loungewear.

How could you have ever planned for this?

After touching up your hair and makeup and putting on the more understated of the dressy outfits you’d brought, you returned to the kitchen where your mom and Auston stood huddled at the counter, near empty glasses of red wine in front of them both.

“Already boozin’, huh?” you teased as you folded your arms in front of you. They chuckled, and Auston glanced at you over his shoulder with a smile. When he laid eyes on you, though, he stood straight up and turned to face you, making no attempt to hide his stare, even in front of your mother. Without taking his gaze off of you, he threw back his final sip of wine and blew out a flustered breath. You knew you were blushing, so you walked past him to your mother, pressing your cheek to hers for an air kiss so as not to mess up your lipstick.

“Sorry to take your favorite boy away from you, but we should head out,” you announced as you looked back at Auston. He cleared his throat, walking to the other side of the countertop to hug your mom again, thanking her for the wine and something else that you didn’t quite catch.

He followed you down the hall, his hand ghosting along the small of your back as you reached for your purse on the coat rack. You looked back and blew a final kiss to your mom, who waved as she watched Auston open the passenger door of his car and help you in — both of you giggling as you crouched into the low-riding vehicle in your skirt and high heels. Like a mom of a young teen, she stood at the window and watched the two of you drive down the block and out of sight, hands clasped together wistfully as she turned back to finish placing the final decorative touches in the living room ahead of tomorrow.

Just a minute later, your dad came through the door from the grocery store, calling for her, sounding nearly breathless.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, smoothing the silk ribbon wrapped around the banister.

“Marie… did I just see Auston driving Kelsey down the road in a Porsche?” he gaped, his brow furrowed, thumb pointed over his shoulder.

She laughed, looking downward as she nodded.

“Yes, you did,” she confirmed, then looked at him as she felt tears welling. “Jack... I can’t say for sure, but I think maybe the girl is finally coming to her senses.”

A smile spread slowly across your father’s face and he came toward your mother, wrapping her in a hug.

“Well…” he began, kissing her temple. “Then maybe we’ll get our Christmas wish after all.”

“And what’s that?” your mom asked.

“For her to be happy again.”

_____

“You look amazing, Kels,” Auston said seriously from the driver’s seat. “Gorgeous.”

You gave him a coy smile and briefly inspected the outfit he’d chosen before leaving his own parents’ house.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

Auston grinned and decided he would take that.

Ten minutes later, he was pulling up to the restaurant you had already known he’d had in mind when he asked you to dinner, without even needing to discuss it. The same Italian restaurant where you’d celebrated infinite birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine’s Days, and other milestones. You fell into easy conversation during drinks and appetizers before Auston told a comical story about his teammates which led to an in that he knew he needed to take.

“They miss you, you know,” Auston stated cautiously between bites of his shrimp scampi. “Mo. Mitchy. Especially Steph.”

You folded and unfolded the seams of the cloth napkin in your lap, considering your response.

“I miss them, too,” you eventually murmured. “So be real with me. You really like it there now?” you leveled with him.

His demeanor shifted — in a good way — as he replied. “It’s honestly great. I mean, you’d love it there now, Kels. I swear,” Auston said, shaking his head in wonder. “’M not just saying that. I mean, the hype is still there, yes, but it’s not at the level it was when I first started. Mitchy and Mo and Willy and I, all us guys who kinda started out together, we’ve all sort of found our groove with the media and stuff, and for the most part, it’s great. I have a feeling it’ll just keep getting better, too.”

You watched his eyes light up as he spoke about Toronto, relief and happiness washing over you. It didn’t seem so long ago that Auston was curled up on the couch, near tears, head in your lap, feeling incapable of living up to the expectations set for him — almost buckling under the immense pressure, the likes of which he had never felt before.

You let out a teary chuckle, swiping at a teardrop on your cheek that had fallen as he answered, taking you by surprise.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that, Aus,” you told him, holding your hand over your heart as it soared within you.

Auston nodded slightly, and his lips twitched into a sad smile. “There’s still something that doesn’t feel right though,” he confessed, though it didn’t feel much like a secret. “Still something missing.”

“And what’s that?” you asked timidly as you lifted your wine glass, excited for and fearful of his answer at all once.

“You.”

Forcing yourself to swallow your merlot so you didn’t spray it across the table, you put your fist to your mouth, holding it there while you attempted to process his latest, and most brazen, admission.

“I mean… look, there have been a few others,” Auston continued with a mindless shrug. “But never anything serious, and never anyone that I’m not constantly comparing to you in every possible way,” he told you, rolling his fingertips on the table and focusing on his hand as he spoke. “Feel kinda bad actually, because I know they all thought it was something more than it really was, and then I was always the one to break things off. I didn’t purposely lead them on, I just... once I got into it, I realized my feelings just weren’t in it.”

You opened your mouth to speak, hands limp in your lap, and then closed your lips in a tight line as you mulled over his words. You inhaled a shuddering breath and looked down, feeling the same shame that had overcome you countless times before come back again.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered without lifting your eyes.

“Kelsey…” Auston spoke firmly. “Look at me. Please.”

You did as he asked, lips pursed, and were met with his adoring, enchanting gaze, always too forgiving of your faults and mistakes.

“It’s okay,” he promised sincerely. “I understand. Trust me on that. I’ve always understood where you were coming from, but it seemed like there was just… just nothing I could do about it. Nothing I could do to make you stay, or to bring you back. That’s what made it so hard. That’s what still makes it so hard.”

You nodded. “Well — what you’re doing right now — whatever this is… it’s working,” you divulged, knowing this was a dangerous game and no longer caring.

“Is it?” Auston asked, a full-blown smile appearing now on his lips. Those lips you missed so damn much.

“Yeah,” you giggled, both of you grinning. “God, I missed your smile, Aus.”

“My smile?” he asked incredulously, then scoffed. “Your smile fucking breaks my heart, Kelsey,” he told you in his deepest tone, biting at the inside of his cheek as if he was trying not to lean across the table and kiss you full on the mouth right then and there.

And now, as you saw that look in his eye that you knew so well, you knew two things.

One, you were fucked. And two, you were in desperate need of a minute.

“I, uh, I gotta run to the ladies’ room,” you told him, standing, feeling unsteady as you pushed in your chair. Auston nodded knowingly and said, “Take all the time you need.”

You brushed a hand over his shoulder, the other holding tightly to your crossbody bag, as you attempted to walk in a straight line toward the restrooms across the restaurant floor. You were only one glass of wine deep, yet this night was making your head feel as fuzzy as if you’d just done a row of shots. Once safely inside the bathroom, you tossed your purse on the counter and held tightly to the sink to try and settle yourself, taking deep breaths in an attempt to control your racing pulse.

Just then, you heard a toilet flush, and your sense of solitude was quickly shattered when you saw a familiar blonde figure step out of the bathroom and lean closer upon recognizing you.

“Kelsey!” she exclaimed, moving toward the sink.

“Holly! Oh, my god,” you laughed as you squeezed her upper arm.

“Here, let me wash my hands and then I’ll give you a real hug,” she promised as you both giggled.

You had been a cheerleader throughout high school, and Holly, a year your senior, had been captain the year before you took on the title. Though you two weren’t particularly close, you had always looked up to her, and you’d kept in touch for a couple of years after you graduated before mostly falling off, save for the occasional hype comment or story reply on social media.

“How are you, girl? You look gorgeous!” she said as she threw her arms around you.

“So do you! I’m doing well, thanks. Home for the holidays,” you offered as she stepped back and nodded.

“Yeah, that’s great! Me, too,” she replied, then smiled mischievously at you. “To be totally honest, uh… I saw you when you were being seated. I didn’t wanna be weird or like, intrude, or anything but… I saw you come in with Auston. Are you guys like… back together?”

“Huh? Oh, no, no,” you laughed nervously, feeling yourself blush under her questioning. “We’re not back together. Just, uh, just two old friends, uh, catching up, ya know?” you reasoned nonchalantly as you reached for your bag.

“Oh. Right. Well... ‘tis the damn season, am I right?” Holly said with a chuckle, her own cheeks slightly flushed as she feared maybe she had made you uncomfortable by addressing the elephant in the room.

“Right,” you nodded cordially, then took a step toward her and patted her hand, wanting to make sure she didn’t think you were upset by her comment. “It’s so good to see you, Hol. I’m gonna head back out there—“

“Kelsey, wait,” Holly said urgently, grasping your arm before you could turn away from her. You blinked at her several times, glancing between her grip and her face as you waited to hear what had gotten into her.

“I just have to tell you... for what it’s worth, you guys still look so happy together,” Holly said. “Even if that’s not what this is. I just... I wanted to tell you that. As someone who has known you both for a long time, Auston never smiles as much as he smiles when he’s with you. It’s just nice to see.”

You gaped at your old friend, speechless, and she scrunched her nose at you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cross the line, I just...” she trailed off.

You shook your head, forcing yourself to act casual. “No, no. Not at all. It’s okay. Thank you, for telling me. I just, I gotta run,” you said, leaning in to hug her again. “Bye, Hol. Have a merry Christmas.”

“You too, Kels. See you around,” She smiled as you moved toward the bathroom door. With one last polite nod at her, you exited and escaped to your seat.

As you reached the table, you had to physically restrain yourself from reaching out and running your hand along the back of Auston’s neck and affectionately trailing your fingertips over the short hair there, as you had done for so many years when approaching him and sidling up to him. Instead, you smoothed your hand over your dress and sighed as Auston turned his head to look at you, grinning as he watched you sit.

“You get lost?” he teased. You chuckled, throwing your hair behind your shoulders.

“Something like that,” you muttered, immediately reaching for your glass of wine, which you could tell had been refilled in your absence. Auston hummed in acknowledgement as you took a long sip, watching you all the while.

“One more glass and then we get outta here?” Auston suggested as you set the glass down. You only nodded.

_____

“Remember when you had that old truck, with the tires that were always muddy, and we used to just ride around Scottsdale all night long?” you asked Auston, both of you reminiscing about days gone by after leaving the restaurant.

Auston nodded, running his pointer finger across his upper lip, the other hand on the wheel, as he watched the memory projecting in his mind.

“‘Course I do,” he told you, and you didn’t miss the way his tone changed when he did, making you smirk.

“So, where to next?” you prodded. “Back to Casa de Matthews?”

He shrugged ambiguously, but secretly, he knew just what he wanted to do. “We could just ride around. Like we used to. If you want. I mean, there’s no real reason for us to rush back to our parents’ houses, right?” he said with a snicker.

This could get messy as the mud on the truck tires, you thought, but your response was already tumbling from your lips.

“Okay,” you said, smiling at him. “I’d say let’s go drive through the rich neighborhoods and look at Christmas lights like we used to, but that’s where you and your parents live now, so...” You clicked your tongue and Auston rolled his jaw, acting completely offended to hide how much he had missed you chirping him. The way it melted him.

“We’re still going,” he insisted, turning the wheel at the next intersection and pulling a U-turn. “We’ll just, uh, we’re just gonna maybe skip a couple neighborhoods, that’s all.”

You laughed — a real Kelsey belly laugh — and Auston watched as you lit up his world yet again. He didn’t even need to see any Christmas lights this year. He had all the light he needed right next to him.

Minutes later, he passed the usual first turn on your holiday lights tour and you furrowed your brow.

“Aus, where are you going? I wanted to see Ranchero Nuevo first. We always start there,” you reminded him.

“No, what’s the actual first thing we do when we go see Christmas lights?” Auston asked, pulling instead toward the strip mall at the next light. When you saw the green glow of the Starbucks sign up ahead, you smiled as it dawned on you.

“Get hot chocolate,” you said fondly. Instead of answering, Auston simply sent a soft smile your way. “You’re the greatest,” you lauded, igniting a pride that burned bright in Auston’s chest.

“Anything for you, babe,” he said before he could even realize what he’d just done. He snapped his head your way and saw that you were trying your damnedest not to smile.

He was completely taken aback as you quipped, “You can call me babe for the weekend.”

Auston did a double-take and then nodded once at your phone in your hands, which had just lit up with two missed calls and a particularly accusatory text from one Alex Matthews that you decided you would have to tend to later.

“Write this down,” Auston instructed curtly.

“What do you mean?” you laughed, holding your phone up curiously.

“I want proof that you just said that to me,” he deadpanned, jutting his chin toward your glowing screen and sending you into a fit of laughter.

After you’d both recovered, Auston picked up your drink — large peppermint hot chocolate, like always — and a coffee for himself, and you set off to wind your way through the same neighborhoods you had driven through countless times, admiring most of the decorations and poking fun at the gaudiness of some, laughing all the while, without a care.

As he pulled into a neighborhood you knew to be just a stone’s throw away from where he had recently purchased a house, Auston took a deep breath, fingers gripping the steering wheel rigidly, and decided to take the leap and say what had been circling through his brain since you’d stepped foot in the vehicle after dinner but had only just now worked up the nerve to say.

“What if we didn’t go back to our parents’ places tonight?” he asked abruptly, the words sounding much more jumbled and rushed than they had in his head.

You chuckled anxiously, staring straight ahead. “What do you mean?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and pressed on. “Hear me out. What if we just went to my place for the night instead? I don’t mean to like… to hook up, or anything,” he assured. “Just to be together. I just… I really fucking missed you.”

Uh, whoops. He hadn’t exactly meant to slip that last part in there, but it was too late to turn back now.

There was a lengthy pause and the car was frighteningly silent as you weighed your options.

“Well...” you eventually said, nibbling on your bottom lip. “If it’s okay with you, then it’s okay with me.”

“Yeah?” Auston asked immediately, searching your face for confirmation that he had just heard you correctly. He couldn’t believe that this — any of this— was really happening.

You nodded.

“Yeah. And… Aus?” you spoke.

“Yes, Kelsey?” he asked softly, joy radiating from his whole being and seeping into his words.

You leaned your head back against the seat and reached to wrap your hand around his on the center console.

“I really fucking missed you, too,” you told him.

_____

“Why did you agree to come with me tonight anyway, Kelsey?”

You and Auston were each almost a full bottle of wine deep by the time he asked this, inhibitions now lowered. He’d barely finished giving you the tour before you were both so palpably overwhelmed by the reality of being alone together in his house, with so many feelings buzzing about frenetically, that you took the liberty of pulling a bottle of red from the wine fridge and asking for glasses and a corkscrew. Auston forked them over without question, and now you were deeply entrenched in the process of examining old battle wounds that had never quite healed.

“Because I missed you,” you answered truthfully. “And also because I owed it to you to accept your invitation when you took a chance by reaching out.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Kels,” he claimed, taking a swig.

You picked up your glass and passed by him as you began to pace the tile floor, unable to just be still during this exchange — this conversation that had been a long time coming.

“I do, though,” you argued. “You gave me everything. Everything. And I still left.”

Auston squeezed the stem of his wine glass so hard he feared he may just shatter it.

“I don’t want you blaming yourself for the things I put you through because of my career choice,” he said firmly, a hand splayed against his chest as he accepted the responsibility, just like he always did.

“But you didn’t choose to have the media posted up outside our apartment every day. You didn’t choose to have strangers stalking me and my family online. You didn’t choose to have them calling me a distraction and a leech and a gold digger and a wh—“

“Don’t say it,” he warned as he lifted a finger, referencing the specific instance of the smearing of your character that had left you broken enough to start packing your bags.

“Okay,” you conceded quietly, knowing just how sick that one word had made him. “But listen. Yes, you chose to play hockey. But you didn’t choose all that shit that came along with it. You didn’t know! Hell, you didn’t even get to choose where you played. But even so… honestly, I used to blame you for everything. Because back then, it was just easier for me to deal with it that way.”

Auston’s head hung between his shoulder blades as he leaned his palms against the bar, reliving the very same pain that had eaten away at him for the past three years, especially the acute ache that had come in the weeks immediately after you left.

“I know you did — blame me, that is,” he said softly. “And I understand why.”

You took slow and deliberate steps back to where he stood and rubbed your hand soothingly across his broad back, feeling the way his muscles relaxed under your touch.

“Hey… look at me, huh?” you asked, gently guiding his face toward yours with your fingers. “I don’t blame you, Aus. I don’t,” you assured, your eyes piercing into his. “Not anymore. I’ve grown. I know I did this. I know it’s my fault that we’re like this. I mean, fuck, I broke my own heart, and I know I hurt you. I just... at the time, I didn’t see a way forward on the road we were on.”

Auston’s mind was firing on all cylinders as he tried desperately to compute what he’d just heard, convinced he was gathering more from your words than you meant for him to.

“And now?” he ventured.

He watched as your pained expression turned to one of, dare he even think it, hope.

“I still see it, Aus,” you said. “I still see us ending up together. I know it’s out of the blue, but…”

“It’s not though,” he said, cocking his head a bit to punctuate his point. “I know it doesn’t make much sense, any of this, but… to me, it’s not out of the blue. I’ve wanted this for so long,” he told you. “And I just need you to know that. Regardless of what happens next.”

“Auston, you and me together… that’s the only thing that makes sense. That’s all that’s ever made sense to me,” you said, clarity washing over you. “But I just, I wasn’t ready. And I got so scared that I wouldn’t be able to handle your life that I… I just ran.”

“You can run, Kelsey,” Auston said softly as he, yet again, twirled a strand of your hair around his finger. “But only so far.”

“Yeah…” you whispered. Then, without hesitation, you grasped his chin between your forefinger and thumb, turning his face to yours and studying his brown eyes just for a heartbeat before pressing your lips to his.

And for now, that was all that needed to be said.

_____

You hadn’t slept together. But you had slept together.

Too much crying and laughing and kissing and rehashing and wondering aloud had left you both emotionally drained and physically exhausted, and after dragging yourself into the master bathroom to throw on a crewneck and a pair of Auston’s sweats, you’d promptly fallen asleep in his arms, a smile on his features even in sleep.

The next morning it occurred to you, with your cheek pressed against his bare chest and your legs entangled with his, that Auston’s bed — whether here, or in the house where he grew up, or in Toronto — was the warmest one you’d ever known. Though you could tell by the sunlight flooding the room that it was late in the morning, you couldn’t bear to move away from him.

Soon, he, too, began to stir. As he squinted in the daylight and peered down at you, he closed his eyes once more, a peaceful grin on his lips.

“Oh, thank god that wasn’t just a dream,” he whispered. You chuckled, your fingertips lazily drawing shapes on his pecs as you nuzzled your head further into his neck.

“Nope,” you established. “This is very, very real.”

You lay in quiet thought for a moment before adding softly, “But what happens now?”

At that, Auston’s eyes opened wider this time, a slight panic visible in his face.

“Well,” he began, smoothing his hand over your head and kissing your hair. “What happens now is that we get some coffee.”

You sighed at his attempt to make light of the situation and pushed yourself to sit straight up in bed, cross-legged in front of where he lay on his side.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” you spoke, your fingers pulling anxiously at the bedsheet below. “Yesterday was like a fever dream and now... now we have to face reality.”

Slowly, Auston sat up, too, and pulled you into his lap, allowing you to rest your back against his torso as he gathered your hair at the nape of your neck in a makeshift ponytail.

“Everything that happened yesterday was reality, baby,” he insisted, kissing the crown of your head.

“Our feelings, yes,” you allowed. “But not the rest of it. I mean, fuck, we’re both leaving town in —“ you glanced at the bedside clock and were shocked by the 11:27 that stared back at you, realizing you’d practically slept in half the day — “48 hours. And then what? I go back to LA and you go back to Toronto and we just wonder about—“

“Baby, stop,” Auston begged as he turned you to face him, bringing your forehead to his lips. “Take a breath,” he said, stroking your jaw with his thumbs as he looked down at you, concern etched into his features. “We don’t have to figure all this out right this minute. In fact, we’re not going to. For right now, let’s just let this be what it is. And you have to try and stop spinning your wheels so fast. You’re gonna burn a hole in my floor,” he joked, kissing your nose.

You chuckled sadly, holding his wrists. “You’re right,” you eventually told him. “We’ll figure it out, somehow. I know we will,” you sighed, frowning. “First things first though, I have to get home and help my mom get ready for the party tonight.”

Before you could get out of bed to start gathering your things, Auston circled his arms around your hips and kept you in his lap. “Wait, gimme a smile first,” he requested.

You looked up at him and offered a tight-lipped smile, still distracted by the future of your relationship teetering precariously in the balance.

Auston shook his head. “That’s a fake Kelsey smile,” he accused, accurately. “Don’t even try me.”

With another deep sigh, you muttered, “You’re the only soul who can tell.”

“Who can tell what?” he asked, hugging you tighter.

You looked up at him for a moment, feeling more seen than you had in years. “Which smiles I’m faking,” you said quietly.

A pleased smile twitched at the corners of Auston’s lips before he pressed his mouth to yours.

_____

Auston walked into your parents’ house that night with his understated charm and a devastating ensemble of a maroon suit, white shirt with the top few buttons undone, and black loafers, looking every bit the GQ model he was once upon a time. With two bouquets of red roses and a bottle of champagne in hand, he knocked on the glass and your dad met him enthusiastically at the door.

“What’s the occasion?” your dad then chuckled, a bit puzzled. Auston glanced to where you stood near the staircase, waiting to greet him, and smiled.

“These are for your daughter,” Auston said as he grasped one bouquet. “And these are for your wife,” he said as he gestured toward the other. Your dad raised his eyebrows, looking between the two of you pensively, and let out a loud laugh. “Well, how thoughtful! And the champagne?” your dad asked as Auston stepped toward you and tucked one bunch of roses into your hold. He kissed your cheek chastely and turned back to your dad.

“Well, you never know when you’re gonna have something to celebrate,” Auston said with a smirk. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and your dad clapped Auston’s back appreciatively before leaving the two of you to your moment.

“Thank you, for the flowers,” you said softly, staring up at him. “They’re beautiful.”

“You’re welcome,” he said with a nod before your aunt and uncle suddenly appeared in the doorway, loudly greeting you and pushing their way toward you for hugs as Auston gave them their space and waited for you to become available again.

His patience lasted all of five minutes as he made vague pleasantries with the handful of guests who had already arrived, before he was approaching you again, eager to do what he really came here to do and unable to wait a moment longer. As you turned away from a brief conversation with a longtime next-door neighbor, Auston gently grasped your wrist as he said hastily, “Can I see you outside for a second?”

You didn’t have much of a choice as he led you hurriedly through the formal living room and out the French doors to the balcony, closing them behind you and backing you into a corner, hidden from view.

“Aus, what are you—“

He pressed his body into yours, nudging you back against the rail as he took your face in his hands and kissed you hungrily.

“Doing,” you whispered when he let up, completing your earlier thought as you pressed your fingertips against your swollen lips and looked up at him, your cheeks reddening.

“That,” he answered simply with a small smile. “And I wanted to give you something...”

He patted his pockets to determine where the object was, and your eyes widened.

“Auston, no!” you exclaimed, squeezing his elbows in an attempt to stop his search. “You can’t. I didn’t get you anything. I —”

“Kelsey, are you crazy? Yes, you did,” he said firmly. “Time with you. You gave me time with you. That’s all I’ve wanted for the last three years. That’s more than I could have ever asked for.”

There was nothing you could say then, nothing that sounded worthy enough to hold any significance in such an already meaningful vignette of the two of you. Auston took your silence as his opportunity to pull a mid-sized, square, red leather box from the pocket of his suit jacket, the name “Cartier” imprinted in gold script on the lid.

“Auston, stop,” you warned in a whisper, knowing what was inside and knowing that you would be rendered completely incapable of walking away from him once he offered this gift to you, knowing what it signified for both of you. He shook his head, knowing that your request was an empty one. He propped open the box and placed it on the small wrought iron table in front of you on the balcony. You couldn’t peel your eyes from it as your mind raced with questions.

“How... where... we slept until noon, Aus,” you stuttered. “All the stores were closed. Where did you even buy this?”

He pursed his lips and nodded once, then put his hands into his pockets and admitted, “I’ve had it for almost three years, Kels.”

You blinked again and again, not processing what he’d just revealed.

“I’m sorry... what?”

“I bought this for you for Valentine’s Day three years ago,” he continued. “I bought it and I hid it in my closet and I was gonna give it to you but we broke up on —“

“January 30th...” you whispered. Auston’s brows knit together in agony, and his throat constricted.

“You remember too,” he stated quietly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I remember a little too well,” you said, sniffling as you glanced down at the box again.

Suddenly, your mind drifted back not to that fateful day in his apartment in Toronto, but instead to lying on your stomach as a kid in your family room, flipping through the pages of your favorite issue of your mom’s old Vogue magazines, as Auston used a yardstick and a Nerf ball as makeshift hockey equipment, taking shots at your couch again and again while you soaked in the photos of beautiful models, trendy clothing, and expensive jewelry, as visions of working at a fashion magazine someday twirled through your daydreams.

“Whatcha readin’?” a ten-year-old Auston inquired as he dropped next to you to take a break from his game.

“Vogue,” you answered, turning another page. “Like usual.”

Auston nodded, spotting a pretty woman in a tight black dress and commented, “Cool,” with a laugh. “If you could have anything in that book, what would you pick?”

Ever the master of sass, you rolled your eyes.

“It’s a magazine, Aus,” you corrected with venom in your voice as Auston rolled his own eyes. “But, if I had to pick... I know just what I want,” you informed him, leafing through the issue to get back to an ad in the front. When you finally found what you were seeking, you plopped the magazine down again, smacking your hand onto its glossy pages.

“That,” you said, pointing to the gold bangle. “It’s called the Love Bracelet. It says that it gets bought by somebody you love and then they have to use a screwdriver to put it on you.”

“A screwdriver?!” Auston asked incredulously. “Wouldn’t that hurt?”

You giggled. “No, silly,” you drawled. “It doesn’t hurt. But then the person who loves you is the only one who can put it on you or take it off you. You can’t do it by yourself.”

Auston nodded. “Cool,” he repeated, more seriously this time. You sighed wistfully as you gazed down at the bracelet.

“Yeah, but it’s a whole bunch of money, and my dad said he isn’t buying it. He said maybe my husband will get me one someday,” you said sadly. Auston watched your face drop, then, he got an idea.

“How about this,” he offered, nudging you with his elbow. “If I get famous for playing baseball, or hockey I guess, and I make a boatload of money, then I’ll buy you that bracelet. ‘Kay?”

You blushed, hunching your shoulders as you were slightly embarrassed by your best friend’s offer. Still, you loved Auston, and you knew he loved you. He was the only person you wanted to get that bracelet from, except for like, your mom or dad.

“Okay,” you agreed. “You promise?”

Auston dragged his index finger over the left side of his chest. “Cross my heart,” he confirmed.

This time, it was your turn to say, “Cool.”

“I asked my mom to hold onto it,” you heard him telling you now. Now that you’d become the people you’d said you’d be. Now that you both had grown into the farfetched dreams you’d shared as children. Now that you’d come back home — back to one another. Now that he was here, in front of you, again. “I just couldn’t bear to take it back, even though I honestly never thought I’d get the chance to give it to you.”

You were shaking your head endlessly, attempting to stop tears from streaking your face. “I can’t believe this...” you said, awestruck.

“I don’t have to put this on you right now,” Auston said, swallowing his own tears he felt creeping up on him. “I just want you to have it. It’s yours. You should keep it.”

With a few swipes at your undereyes, you rubbed away the wetness on your hands and then extended your left wrist to Auston. A smile flashed briefly across his lips before he set them in a straight line once more.

“Are you sure?” he asked, caution in his voice.

You pulled him in by his waist, beaming, before you answered.

“I’ve played this out basically every night since I left,” you told him. “Even when I was with somebody. I just followed the path my mind was taking me all the way to the very end, until there was no place left to go. And it always leads to you. It always leads me home.”

Auston pulled you into a searing kiss, both of you smiling into it, before he squeezed your hand and reached for the box, carefully disassembling the bracelet so that he could put it on you at last.

“All day I’ve been thinking about what I said earlier. About running,” you spoke as Auston worked on securing the bracelet. “I started running and running and it’s been such a mess since then. Nothing about the past three years made any sense to me. And then I saw you, and… it all made sense again. You and I were the only thing that ever made sense to me,” you told him, your voice wavering as he twisted the final screw into place, lifting the inside of your wrist to his lips and placing a warm, reverent kiss to the skin there, his eyes never leaving yours as he did. “So I’m done. I’m done running, Auston. I can’t run anymore.”

“You have no fucking clue how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” Auston admitted, touching his forehead to yours before leaning back. “So, to your earlier point... what the hell are we supposed to do now?”

You ran a frazzled hand through your long hair and bit at the inside of your cheek as you formulated your response. “I mean, I have to go back, Aus. I’m working on a really big project...”

Your words put him into a tailspin of his own this time, watching the dreams he had let resurface over the last two days come crashing down in front of him all over again. You were eluding him. Again.

His ears were buzzing so loudly that he barely heard your next words.

“But maybe after that... I could come and spend some time in Toronto?”

Auston pulled his tongue away from the roof of his dry mouth and pleaded, in a voice barely above a whisper, “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t say that unless you really mean it,” he said, desperation in his tone.

“I mean, really, I don’t have a choice,” you pointed out with a breathy laugh, your fingers tracing the cold metal of the bangle around your other wrist. “I don’t see any other way that this ends. Not after this. This perfect fucking weekend. I mean... do you?”

“No,” he quickly retorted. “No, I don’t. I was just scared that you... that this was going to be it for you. That we would have this incredible time together and then it would just be another chapter in the Auston and Kelsey history book.”

You smoothed your hands over his lapels, allowing your body to fully relax into his.

“Auston, this... this is different,” you said somberly. “Before, it all just felt like too much. I got scared. We were so young, Aus. I mean, we’re still young, but we were babies. And now... I’ve realized that dealing with the press and the social media and the fans... it’s worth it to me. I’ll never like it. But I love you. And that’s enough. That will always be more than enough for me — being with you. And I’m so sorry that it’s taken me this long, that it took me finally coming back home, to realize that.”

“Don’t be sorry, Kels, please,” Auston whispered, one hand clutching at your hip, the other tangled in the hair at the back of your head as he held onto you with everything he had, knowing he was ready to do so for as long as you would let him. “Just... just say it again, baby. Please?”

“I love you, Aus,” you whispered, tears falling freely down your cheeks as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I’m never gonna stop.”

“Don’t stop,” Auston pleaded, nuzzling his nose against yours before pressing his lips to your mouth. “Don’t ever stop. Promise?” he asked, his voice gravelly.

“Cross my heart,” you whispered, drawing a pretend line across your chest before cupping his cheek and kissing him tenderly.

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reidgraygubler · 3 years

Text

a different type of high (spencer reid/reader) pt 6

Title: A Different Type of High (part six)

Request: no

Couple: spencer reid/gender-neutral!reader

Category: spicy fluff (RATED T)

Content Warning: swearing, talk about and allusions to sex, making out, mentions of dying, mentions of drug use (Dialiludid and Oxycodone), withdrawal and symptoms of withdrawal, attending narcotics anonymous, struggling with sobriety, mildly ooc spencer

Word Count: 3,637

Summary: Spencer and the team plan a dinner party to celebrate Reader’s 6-month anniversary of being clean. Reader and Spencer make a risky decision that could hurt their friendship

A/N: Oh goodness, I’m so sorry this part took so long to be posted. I’ve had half of it written for a few weeks, and then I’ve been sitting on the other half bc it originally contained smut. I sat and thought about it for a few days, and I decided at extreme last minute to edit it and make it just spicy fluff, with a rating of pg13-T for the allusions of and talks of sex. I had my best friend proofread this and made sure it was a-okay to post with those ratings! i also edited all the parts so they could be for a gender-neutral reader! so please let me know if this part (or any other part) has an issue with pronouns. Again, im so sorry it took so long for this part to be posted. anyways, thank you all for the love and support! check out my masterlist!

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{***}{***}{***}

"Six months," I looked down at the token in hand. My eyes stayed glued to it for what seemed like an eternity, only looking away when there was a knock on the door. It wasn’t for 6 months, though, it was still my 5-month token. We’d be going to get my 6-month chip in a little bit...

"I hope you're not doing something stupid in there!" Spencer spoke on the other side of the door. I smiled before pulling the door open. He was leaning beside the door, waiting for me to leave. “I thought you’d never leave,” he looked over at me with a smile. I stepped more out of the bathroom and looked up at him.

“Nope, just going to the bathroom,” I lied, but still kept a smile on my lips. I try not to lie to Spencer, but for some reason, this one was different. If I had it my way, I would keep myself locked in the bathroom, and never having to leave again. “Do you have to go? It’s free now,” I gestured towards the door. Spencer looked down at me with a raised eyebrow. “Although, I’d give it a minute…” I looked down at the ground and shrugged.

“Are you okay?” He asked, following beside me as I walked towards his bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at him as he stood right in front of me. "Six months, that's quite the achievement,” he whispered as he sat beside me.

“I’m just nervous… That’s all,” I shrugged as I looked over at him, “I already want the day to be over… Is that bad to say?” I rested my head on his shoulder after I leaned on him.

“No, I don’t think so,” Spencer shook his head, “I think it’s totally valid. This is the first time that you’ve made it to such a big accomplishment… It’s exciting, it’s nerve-wracking…” he whispered.

“I think it’s more than nerve-wracking…” my voice was hardly a whisper. “We should go. The faster we go, the faster we can get this over with,” I looked up at him and shrugged.

“We should get going. It’s a very important meeting for you today. Gotta get that coin,” Spencer laughed, before standing up. I sighed deeply before standing up. I rolled my eyes. “It’ll be over faster than you think it will,” he wrapped his arm around me as he walked me outside. The weather drastically changed over the last six months, I’ve forgotten how nice Maryland can be when it’s not cold and snowy. And, as soon as we stepped outside, a warm breeze brushed across my skin and through my hair. I smiled, relaxing my shoulders slightly.

“It’s so nice out,” I looked up at Spencer and smiled. He returned the expression and looked around the street.

“Yeah, it is nice, isn’t it?” he looked back down at me with a soft smile.

“We should go to the Washington Monument! I want to see the cherry blossoms! I’m sure they’re nice and bloomed and super pretty,” I suggested, hoping he’d want to go.

“I mean, if I have time. We have cases coming in left and right,” Spencer replied, making me feel sadder. I pouted.

“Yeah, that’s right. I guess I’ll just have to go,” I looked up at him with a sly smile.

“And, you’ll have to take lots of photos for me,” he smiled at me again. I rolled my eyes before tucking myself closer into his side.

{***}{***}{***}

“I’m taking you out, come on,” Spencer grabbed my hand to pull me to my feet. I looked up at him and furrowed my eyebrows.

“What? Why?” I spoke, still staying on the couch. But, when he did finally get me on my feet, I yelped and fell into his body. Spencer wrapped his arms around my body to keep me steady. “We just got back!” I looked up as I tried to escape his grip.

“Because… You’re six months clean and that’s something worth celebrating,” he smiled as he looked down at me. “And, you deserve to be celebrated,” he whispered before poking my nose. I wrinkled my face and stuck my tongue out. “Please, for me?” he added. I dropped my shoulders. See, that’s not fair. He knows I’d do anything for him. And, if anything includes going out to celebrate something, then I guess I’ll have to do it.

“Okay, fine. You win. We can go out. But I don’t have anything nice to wear,” I spoke as I stepped away from Spencer’s embrace and towards his bedroom. I’ve basically moved into his place sometime over the last 6 months. So it could be our bedroom. But, it's an unofficial move in. I still have my shit in my shit apartment. “Granted, I don’t have much clothing here,” I looked back over at him and shrugged. It was just something to be planted in his head, maybe he’ll offer me to move in with him. Or maybe not. He’ll probably say that it isn’t very smart, me living with him.

“I guess it’s a good thing that there’s something in the bedroom for you,” Spencer smiled as he dropped his head to his shoulder. I raised an eyebrow before looking into his room. “Jennifer and Penelope helped pick it out,” his voice followed me as I entered the room.

“You didn’t have to get me this, Spencer,” I looked at him, awe in my eyes as I looked between him and the very nice clothing that was laid out on his bed. I honestly probably wouldn’t wear it out much. But if he takes me out to celebrate big milestones, then I’ll have an excuse to wear it.

“Of course I did. You should get to wear something nice on such a big night out. You get changed, I have to make a phone call real quick.” Spencer smiled at me before leaving me alone in his bedroom. I looked back down at the clothes and sighed deeply before changing out of my dingy sweater and jeans and into the dress. I looked down at my body before slowly leaving the room.

“I hate this,” I looked at Spencer, who was sitting on the couch, reading a book while he waited for me to finish getting dressed. He was quick to stand, nearly dropping his book to the ground as he looked at me. “Whaddya think?” I smiled at him before looking down at the clothes.

“You look… It looks good,” Spencer looked up at me with a smile. I looked back up at him for a brief moment, only to look away. I could feel a heat grow on my cheeks as I walked towards him. “Oh, uh… Are you ready?” He watched as I grabbed for a sweater he let me borrow.

“Only if you are, you’re the one who planned this whole thing. I was fine just staying home,” I shrugged as I followed beside him. I didn’t want to argue with him on this one, though. He wanted to do something special for me, because this was a big milestone. And, it’s the first time I’ve ever made it to 6 months. Hopefully, it’s the only time I make it this far. But, who knows, bad things happen to good people.

“I’m not going to be embarrassed, am I?” I looked up at Spencer as we walked out of his apartment. He grasped my hand as he led me out of the building.

“No, you… You shouldn’t be embarrassed,” Spencer furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head.

I don’t know why, but all I could think about was going to a restaurant on my birthday when I was younger… And, you know how the waiters and waitresses would crowd around and sing you their lame version of happy birthday, while forcing you to wear a hat that dozens of other people have worn… Their stupid birthday schtick? Remember? Ah, those were the good times, when Mom wasn’t out of her mind. But, I don’t think Spencer would force people to sing me a stupid song and wear a stupid hat for being clean of drugs for 6-months...

“I’m trusting you on this,” I smiled at him as we walked towards his car, “no one’s gonna sing like a song or anything?” I looked over at him as I slid into his car. He looked down at me with furrowed eyebrows, confusion on his face. Then it hit me that he had no idea what I was talking about.

“No…. No one’s going to sing to you,” he looked at me, his tone heavily confused.

“Nothing to worry about then,” I smiled as he pushed the door shut. I quickly buckled in and waited for Spencer to get into the driver’s side. I looked over at him with a smile as he got in. “I was just thinking… On the rare occasion when mom wasn’t awful, she’d take me out to eat, and a lot of the times it was my birthday… You remember that? And then they embarrass the fuck out of you,” I sighed as I looked at him.

“No… That never happened to me,” he glanced at me as he started his car.

“That’s a shame, we should change that,” I smiled evilly at him as he started to drive.

“I hate that you’re looking at me like that,” he looked at the road as he drove to our destination, “Do I even want to know?”

“No, but you’ll find out someday,” I smiled at him.

{***}{***}{***}

Spencer and I were very quiet as entered his apartment. I think that goes to show just how exhausted we both were. Considering he had brought me to his friend’s house, where the rest of his team was, to celebrate. It’s not that the people were exhausting, it’s just that we were out late, and I’m very emotional.

Which was the reason why I found myself crawling into bed in just a shirt and underwear. I could hear Spencer’s laughter as I got comfortable, but struggled with the blanket.

“I’m so tired,” I sighed as I pulled the blanket over my body. The bed shifted as Spencer climbed in beside me. “Like, all the tireds… Sleepy, mentally, emotionally, psychically,” I looked at him as I pressed my head into the pillow.

“Rossi does know how to have a dinner party. Six months is a pretty big thing to celebrate.” Spencer hummed as he moved closer to me. I looked up at him and smiled.

“You didn’t have to plan a party for me. I would have been okay staying here,” I whispered as I got comfortable in his form.

My back was pressed right to Spencer’s chest, just like many nights before. His arm was wrapped around my middle to hold me as close as possible to him. My legs were tangled up with his. I let out a deep breath of air before smiling to myself.

“I’m proud of you, you know that?” Spencer whispered, his nose brushing over the shell of my ear. I rolled my shoulders and hummed happily.

“Now it’s your turn,” I mumbled as I shifted slightly. I knew he was still struggling. It’s not easy… And Dilaudid seems like a kick to the ass drug. He’s trying though. He’s trying his hardest. I just wish there was a way I could help him. I knew he had been struggling more often recently. I would be too if my mentor left unexpectedly. It wasn’t fair to him, or the rest of his team. He gets to have a bit of a struggle, he shouldn’t have to though. The man who replaced Gideon though, David Rossi, is a nice guy. But I know Gideon was like his father figure to him.

Spencer let out a breath of air through his nose. His air tickling my skin and moving my hair. “I couldn’t have done it without you, ya’ know?” I mumbled, nuzzling my head into the pillow more. It was Spencer’s turn to hum. “And, I’m more than willing to be by your side,” I whispered, hoping he didn’t hear me. But, he did, because he just hugged me harder.

I know it’s only 6 months and not the rest of my life. But, without Spencer, I don’t think I could have gotten to the 6-month point. And, to be honest, I might be dead.

“That’d mean the world to me,” he whispered softly. I turned around so I was facing him. He looked down at me with a small smile. “I’m doing better, you know,” he spoke softly. I looked at him and nodded. “It’s just hard… With Gideon leaving… It just feels like everyone’s leaving,” he sniffled softly.

“I’m not leaving… And, by the looks of it all, you have an entire family that isn’t leaving you, Spencer,” I kept my eyes on him, watching as he looked down at me. He stayed quiet, mulling over the words I had just said.

In fact, that left us in a comfortable silence. My eyes stayed glued to him, whereas his were closed. I knew he wasn’t asleep though. Spencer never sleeps. I knew our day wasn’t over yet. We always talked more before either of us fell asleep.

But... something scared me. The way he held onto me. He held me like I would go missing in the morning when he did eventually wake up. His grip around my waist and torso was tight, like I was a stuffed animal and he was the owner. Part of me wondered if he feared I was a drug-induced hallucination and would vanish in thin air. I wish there was a way I could tell him, to convince him that I wouldn’t ever disappear like that.

His nose twitched as he rubbed his face into the pillow under his head. He slowly opened his eyes and looked back at me, the exhaustion of the day sitting in his eyes and expression. I understood that feeling. But, if he was anything like me, and he is a lot like me, I knew that even though he was exhausted, sleep wouldn’t find us in a while.

“Go to sleep,” he whispered, closing his eyes as he pretended to sleep. I laughed lightly, causing him to glare at me.

“I’m not tired, and I know you’re not either. You’re faking it,” I muttered as I shifted even closer to him. I still kept my head tilted up so I could look at him. “You know I’m right,” I whispered, a smile suddenly appearing on my lips.

“I’m not arguing your statement, am I?” Spencer replied, a smile growing on his lips. I almost kissed him. At that moment, it felt right. Our sudden sarcastic banter just made me want to kiss him.

“No, no you’re not,” I laughed lightly as I looked at him. Spencer kept his eyes on me, hugging me harder as he tried to bring me closer to him. But at this point if I was any closer to him, I’d probably be in him. “Can I ask you a question,” I whispered so softly. If it was daylight or any other time of day, with any sound, I wouldn’t be heard. Spencer laughed before reopening his eyes.

“You just did,” he retorted as he looked at me. I rolled my eyes as I readjusted, moving so I was more face to face with him instead of face to chest.

“I meant a real question, Agent Reid,” I stuck my tongue out at him. The smile that grew on his lips made me feel warm, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“You can always ask me a question, and you don’t even have to ask,” Spencer replied, his smile becoming more genuine than before. I could feel my heart beating as I looked at him. My body felt like it was flooding with a feeling that I’ve never felt towards another person… I just couldn’t put a name to it yet.

“Can I kiss you,” I whispered. It just happened. The words fell from my mouth, like I had no control over my mouth and the words I was saying. And now that the words hung in the air, I was left just staring at Spencer, and my heart in my throat.

The expression on his face told me he was thinking about it. But the long silence was beginning to make me feel nervous. What if I ruined it all? What if I just ruined my friendship with Spencer all because I wanted to kiss him? It’s just my luck though, I get something so beautiful and so precious, I ruin it, or it gets ruined. But in this case… It was my own fault and doing.

The next thing I knew, Spencer’s hands were cupping my cheeks, and his lips were against mine. It felt like the wind was knocked out of me with the sudden action. I was a little caught off guard. I guess his prolonged silence just convinced me nothing was going to happen. But I was definitely happy that it did, indeed, happen. And, I definitely enjoyed it.

His lips were soft, yet somehow slightly chapped. I could feel the moisture on his lips from when he licked them moments ago, and I could taste the tiny bit of wine he had just an hour ago. The warmth of his body made me feel safe as I gravitated closer into his body. My heart pounded in my chest, and I wondered if he could feel it against his. My hands gravitated towards his head, my fingers getting tangled in his hair.

Spencer hummed as I gently tugged on the hair on the back of his neck. The breath from his nose tickled around my lips and nose. Every movement he made, my body was quick to follow. I just couldn’t get enough of him, and he knew that.

He was gentle as he moved so he was over me. His arms were wrapped around my torso, holding me close to his body. I knew I wanted to further what was happening, and part of me could sense Spencer did too. I pulled my head away, pressing it into the pillow a little bit so I could look up at him. He returned the look, but a certain fire was in his eyes.

“Can we,” I stopped myself from talking, worried that I was even more out of line for asking if we could have sex. At least I’m asking. “We don-” I continued, but failed when Spencer pressed his lips to mine.

“Yeah… Yeah we can,” he muttered before going to take off his shirt.

{***}{***}{***}

It was honestly better than any type of high I’ve had before. Definitely better than marijuana, or oxycodone, or Dilaudid. I wonder if Spencer thought the same about that. This was probably safer too. You can’t overdose on sex, can you? Damn, I guess if that’s how I go… That’s how I go.

“Hey,” Spencer looked down at me with a small smile. I swallowed roughly before returning the smile to him. He brushed my hair away from my face before holding both my cheeks in his hands.

“Hey,” I returned the smile with a small giggle. Spencer laughed before kissing me again. It was tender and passionate with this kiss, and I wanted to melt into him. His hands were still on my cheeks, holding my face.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you or anything? Did I?” He asked, his tone heavily laced with worry. He moved his nose so it brushed against mine, smushing it to my face. I laughed and shook my head.

“No, no, Spencer. You didn’t hurt me,” I laughed as I pressed my hands to his chest. “I don’t think you could hurt me… No matter what you do,” I quietly whispered. Spencer looked down at me and smiled.

“I promise I won’t ever hurt you,” he returned in a whisper, "and I won't ever leave you."

“In all seriousness, though, I didn’t know I had a sex drive like that…” I laughed, watching as Spencer sat up and away from me. “I mean, after all the oxy I’ve taken…” I shrugged, sitting up and wrapping a blanket around my body. Spencer looked over at me with a raised eyebrow as he stood up.

“Considering it’s been six months, you don’t have it in your system anymore,” he looked at me for a moment before grabbing his boxers and an undershirt. “I’m getting you water, do you want anything else?” He walked around the bed and came to stand beside me. I looked up at him and pushed out my lips, silently asking for a kiss. Spencer smiled before pecking my lips quickly.

“I’m okay with water,” I watched as he walked away. He nodded before leaving me alone in his room (Again, I would go as far as to say our room. But I don’t exactly live with him… full time).

When I finished cleaning myself up in his bathroom, I grabbed one of his shirts and a pair of boxers, and I sat on the center of the bed, waiting for him to return.

I realized something while I was waiting for him to come back to bed. And it’s something I don’t think I could ever tell him. Because, if I tell him this, I’d probably lose him. I don’t think I could handle losing Spencer.

I loved him. I loved Spencer Reid and that was probably going to be the thing that killed me.

a different type of high taglist: @shameleswhorehourstm , @itsametaphorbriansblog , @bxtchboy69 , @sammypotato67 , @seninjakitey , @thatsonezesty13 , @thebluetint , @honestlystop , @herecomesthewriterwitch , @mediocrity-atitsfinest , @honeyboysteezy , @aluna190

tags that didn’t work: @exilereid , @mediocrehamiltrash

(if you want to be a part of the a different type of high tag list, please reply or send me a message!)

#shadow writes stuff #masterlist #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid #criminal minds #mgg #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #doctor spencer reid #doctor spencer reid imagine #doctor spencer reid fanfiction #doctor spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #doctor spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #a different type of high

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modern-inheritance · 3 years

Text

Modern Inheritance: Dress Code (Post-War ficlet)

(A/N: Some Post-War MIC!Eragon/Arya for you all.

I’ve extended the Rider War timeline to be closer to 5-ish years. Eragon has more time to mature, Arya has more time to heal. They start a relationship around a year before the war ends, and while I have a basic idea of how it comes about I’m not ready to put it into writing for you all yet. There’s about a year or so of Arya and Fírnen remaining behind in Alagaësia to help with reconstruction and reintegration of the elves into the world without starting an incident while Islanzadí heals, and then they join Eragon and Saphira at the Rider School. At this point, even a year on, the school is still in some phases of construction and only has maybe a dozen students + their dragons, possibly less. Everyone is still trying to settle in to the new reality, and Eragon is still getting used to the admin role he now has to take.

I’ll probably post more about MIC!Eragon and Arya’s relationship, especially as it is post-war. In the meantime, take this. It’s a little spicy, so fair warning. Cheers mates!)

~~~

Eragon scrubbed his hands through his hair, frustration edging his voice. “Remind me why I agreed to host this?”

Invitations to the Rider School’s gala were strewn across his desk, addresses of dignitaries from the chiefdoms surrounding Mount Arngor paperclipped to each. He held in his hand three different menus in various stages of translation and tweaking, trying his best to work through the grammar of the local dialect and please the varied dietary restrictions of all in attendance. An itinerary draft sat incomplete under a handful of pens, half abandoned until the Rider’s leader could muster up the focus to finish it.

For all the good will these events garnered, they always brought in more paperwork than he thought they were worth.

“Because people tend to get nervous when dragons and Riders begin massing in one place and it looks like no one knows what’s going on.” Eragon leaned back in his chair and tilted his head to watch Arya across the room. His mate was cross legged on the floor, a portion of Fírnen’s saddle in her lap while the rest spilled out like a comically large sea turtle. A half-threaded leather needle dangled from her lips as she closely examined a patch of torn stitching to judge the length she needed. “And it’s one of the fastest ways to show that yes, the Riders have leaders in you and Saphira, and that you both aren’t as scary as they might think.”

From outside the exterior porthole a chuffing snort signaled Saphira’s amusement. That anyone would dare to put her majestic yet terrifying visage into the same league of frightening as Eragon’s squishy, scaleless frame was laughable.

Down below the cliffside, the sounds of Fírnen’s playful growls as he entertained a handful of yearlings and hatchlings rumbled up the mountain. The fledgling Riders and their dragons were on a day of leave after a month of hard work and lessons, leaving Eragon, Saphira, Arya, and Fírnen time to catch up on the tasks that went by the wayside during instruction.

Eragon felt Saphira yawn wide, barbed tongue curling at its tip. His jaw twinged slightly as her teeth clicked together. Don’t forget your meeting this afternoon. Saphira stretched out one massive paw and began fastidiously cleaning the scales around her claws, irritated by the stone dust from construction that still remained in the nooks and crannies of the mountain’s halls. I will fly you down, but after that I must take the hatchlings to hunt.

Thank you. I won’t forget. Eragon assured as he set the menus down and picked up the draft of the event itinerary, clicking his pen in distracted boredom. As he worked, Arya finished her repairs and began the process of conditioning the rejoined pieces, working neatsfoot oil into the saddle with a soft rag.

Saphira’s deep breathing outside signaled her shift to a light doze in the afternoon sun. The sound was soothing, lulling her Rider into a state of half focused haze.

Once again drifting away from his work, Eragon’s eyes snagged on the invitation’s request of a black tie dress code. It sent his mind to other places, and, the corners of his lips curling into a mischievous smile, he let his chair turn again.

“You know…” Arya looked up to see her mate tapping his pen against his lips. “There is one thing I don’t mind about these fancy events though.” Mirth danced in his eyes, along with something a little more, as he lifted his gaze from the papers in his hand.

The elf set the saddle aside, wiping her hands on the rag. This should be interesting. He only acted this innocent for two reasons, one distinctly more alluring than the other. “Oh really?” She stood and stretched, fingers linked above her head as she lifted onto her toes. “And what would that be?”

“You.” Eragon broke into a blush tinged smile and set the itinerary aside, turning his chair fully to face her. “I will never get tired of seeing you all dressed up.”

Arya let out a soft laugh and approached him. His gaze boldly roamed over her form, still marveling years on that she was his and he was hers. “Really! I love you no matter what you wear. But there’s something about the way you can pull off a black dress….” Eragon practically purred in approval as the elf settled into his lap, her knees on either side of his hips. The tang of leather conditioner wrapped around Arya’s earthy scent, reminding him of their time in the field and nights around watch fires, working on their gear and simply enjoying each other's company. It was just so simply her, so entwined in his mind with who she was, that it made his heart flutter. “What will you wear this time?”

Arya cocked her head coyly, braid brushing against her back as she shifted her weight to his knees with a thoughtful hum. “I don’t know. You pick.” A sly grin touched her lips. “Within reason, of course.”

Eragon leaned back, mind awhirl with possibilities. Almost subconsciously his hands had found Arya’s sides to steady her on her perch. As he mulled over the choice she had given him, his thumbs rubbed small circles against her ribs, eliciting a pleased sigh that danced in his ears. She leaned into his touch, content.

“Hmm...I think…” An image solidified in Eragon’s imagination, bringing back that hooded eye grin as he went a step further and imagined it covering less of his mate’s body and more of his bedroom floor. “Black dress. Mid length. Something backless.”

Arya huffed a quiet laugh, her smirk suddenly tinged with a tiny twist that he couldn’t quite place. Awkwardness? “Love...we’re trying to make friends here, not send them running for the other side of the continent.”

It took a long, long moment for Eragon to realize her meaning. With a slight pang of guilt his grin drooped, and in quiet apology he slipped his hands under the soft material of his mate’s shirt. Calloused fingers slid up her back, ghosting over the multitude of scars that still decorated her skin, as he pulled her down to him until their foreheads touched.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured. He could feel the uptick in her heart rate through her skin, the warmth of her breath against his cheek as he massaged the silky rifts below her shoulder blades. “I’m sorry. You’d think after all this time I’d remember. They’re so much a part of you that I–”

Arya silenced him, brushing her lips against his. The contact flushed warmth down from his cheeks to his throat and over his chest. “I like that you forget.” Her smile feathered against his skin as she shifted her body closer to his and pulled away from the light kiss. “I think it’s one of the sweetest things you do.”

Relieved, Eragon smiled back. Taking one of his mate’s hands from where she had braced against his shoulder, he pressed lips to her palm in one last apology before returning his grip to her sides. The feeling of warm, bare skin beneath his fingertips and the new position of her hips had him quickly distracted again, and he soon found himself itching to continue their banter. “Well...what about me, then?”

“What about you?”

“What should I wear for the gala?”

Arya hummed quietly, teasing her fingers down his chest. “It’s black tie, isn’t it?” Eragon nodded in confirmation, doing his best to keep from moving beyond the gentle dance of his fingers against the elf’s sides. She was always more composed than he during these little games, to the point that the Rider’s leader found himself pushing his limits to better match her whenever they arose. “Well then. I say you should wear just your slacks and a tie.” She gently tapped the end of his nose before dragging her hands across the tightening muscles of his abdomen, nails lightly scraping through the material of his shirt. Her voice took on a low purr, rippling with a possessive edge from deep within her chest and sending tingles of anticipation across Eragon’s skin. “It doesn't say anything about wearing something along with it, does it not?”

Eragon raised his eyebrow, control cracking. His hands settled on her hips as she draped her wrists over his shoulders, pulling her closer. He could feel the heat between their bodies growing, pooling over their clothed skin. “Well, if it’s the dress code you’re insisting on, who am I to break the rules?” His mate grinned that little devilish smirk that set his heart pounding, fire dancing in her eyes as she leaned in closer. Eragon let his eyes drift closed, lifting away from the back of the chair to meet her–

And frowned in confusion when he felt her cheek brush his. The light touch was followed by a breathy whisper in his ear.

“You’re going to be late for your meeting with Blödhgarm and Telvi if you don’t hurry.”

Eragon opened his eyes to find Arya pulling away from reaching over his shoulder, the small clock he kept on his desk in her hand.

It read only eight minutes to two in the afternoon. He was supposed to be meeting the elves to go over plans for a new family housing addition at two o’clock sharp.

“Oh shit!”

Eragon bolted to his feet, unceremoniously dumping Arya off her perch on his lap. The elf couldn’t help but laugh as he dashed around the room, searching frantically for the plans Gerard had drawn up for him and the set of drafting tools necessary to make any adjustments. Outside Saphira similarly surged to her feet and shook herself. Her wings rustled like parchment as she unfurled them and stretched, ready to leap from the mountain shelf to the courtyard below.

I can see them nearing the gate. Saphira’s warning echoed in Eragon’s mind. You need to hurry, Little One.

I’m trying! I can’t find the damn plans! Eragon jerked his gaze from ripping apart a cluttered drawer of stationary when his mate gave a short, sharp whistle. Arya stood by the porthole with his messenger bag in hand, and wordlessly slipped the protected tube that held Gerard’s plans and the box of tools in when the man looked up. He let out a wordless cry of relief and hurried over, ducking his head and lifting his arm slightly to allow Arya to loop the strap down over his shoulder and settle the bag onto his hip.

“Where would I be without you?” Eragon asked, half sincere and half rhetorical as the elven Rider adjusted his shirt. He leaned in, hopeful and thrilled as always.

Still grinning, Arya allowed him to give her a quick kiss. Her hand lingered at his cheek, checking him over out of habit before swiping a few stray locks of his curling bangs away from his face. “In Carvahall, living a quiet life without dragons, elves, dwarves and Urgals.” Pleased that he was presentable, the elf gave him a kiss of her own before turning him to the waiting Saphira and giving him a push. “Now go! Fírnen and I are teaching Silas and Rakka some flying, so we’ll see you both at dinner.”

Eragon gave one last wave and tightened the saddle straps around his legs. With that, Saphira took two great strides and launched herself from the cliff.

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spookybreadstick · 3 years

Note

Hey!!!! I was wondering if you could write a scenario for Toby confessing to his s/o 😳👉👈 - dancing parrot 🐦🎶🐦🎶

Okay so I wasn’t quite sure where I wanted to go with this, I had so many ideas it was hard to choose so I kind of meshed two of my favorite ideas into one lol. I hope it’s okay, it’s my longest (I’m pretty sure anyway) little scenario yet and I’m nervous/excited to post it. I personally think it’s kinda cute but uh let me know guys 😅 I also had it be Toby confessing that he has a crush on the reader, and for the purposes of this scenario the reader is female (I tried, but it’s harder than I thought to write gender neutral scenarios)

NOTE: I am trying out different ways to incorporate Toby’s tics into the writing, because I think it is an important part of his character and I want to honor that while having it be respectful and also easier to read. I put his tics in * * so that it is easier to see when he’s having a verbal tic because otherwise it can look a lil funky. Let me know if this was an okay way to go about it, I’m still learning!

🪓 Toby Confesses To His (Female) S/O 🪓

"Dude, stop star-staring. You're making it weird." Toby whispered to BEN, who was currently staring intently at you from a distance.

"How do you think I'm gonna help you if I don't know what I'm doing?" BEN barely glanced at Toby, who was fidgeting nervously beside him.

After a couple of seconds, BEN turned to Toby. "I don't know, dude. I need to see you guys in action."

"What does that mean?" Toby asked.

"Just go over and talk. Act natural. I need to see the vibe between you two." BEN said, nudging Toby towards you despite his whispers of protest.

Seeing Toby walk slowly towards you, you turned and greeted him. "Hey, Toby. What are you doing?"

"Uh, nothing. Just, uh, j-just walking..? He trailed off uncertainly.

You didn't seem to mind his awkward behavior, and continued to chat with him for another minute or two. Well, it was more like you were chatting at him rather than with him. Toby was just standing there uncomfortably, as he tried to will all of his tics away for a few minutes. It's hard when he's nervous and trying to make himself look good in front of you. Suddenly, you were being pulled away by one of the other pastas who wanted your opinion on something. Toby watched you leave the room, waving goodbye as you went.

"Dude. That was literally the worst thing I've ever seen." BEN appeared beside Toby, laughing.

"Knock *knock who's there?* knock it off." Toby gave him a slight shove.

"I can't help you if you're gonna be a dweeb about it." BEN shrugged.

"I'm not being a dweeb!" Toby cried indignantly.

"Okay, sure." BEN rolled his eyes.

"So?" Toby asked eagerly.

"So, what?"

"So, does she like me too?"

"I mean, she must like you at least a little. You were standing there like a goober, and she didn't care."

"BEN!"

"I'm sorry, but that was some classic comedy material right there. I could have made, like, a dozen jokes about the whole thing. All I'm saying is, she didn't take a golden opportunity to make fun of you, so maybe you do stand a chance after all."

"Okay, well, are you gonna help me *hide the body* help me win her over or what?" Toby crossed his arms.

"Nah. It's too much fun to watch you make a fool out of yourself." BEN grinned.

"Dude, seriously?"

"Look, I may be a man of talent, but I can't pass my flirt skills on to you. They'd just go to waste, man."

"Thanks a lot." Toby huffed.

"The best advice I can give you is to just relax, man. Just chill out, and don't act like you have rigor mortis. The whole time she was talking to you, you were rooted to the spot and your limbs were all tight. Don't do that. Just be loose and let it happen, you know?"

"Do you think I should tell her how I feel?" Toby asked timidly, shifting his weight from side to side. He really did like you. And he didn't always get so nervous around you, he reasoned to himself. He was better in groups, at least, when some of the attention was off of him.

"I don't know." BEN shrugged.

"You're talking about Y/N, right?" Hoodie asked, stepping into the room.

"Jesus, man, you scared the shit out of me!" BEN yelped.

"Sorry. Toby, do you have a crush on Y/N?"

"No! Why would you think *clink clink clink* that?"

"You're pretty obvious about your feelings, Toby."

"D-do you think she knows?" Toby asked, dread crawling through his body. "I mean, it doesn't m-matter, it's not like I like her or anything, I just want to know." He added quickly, trying to cover his tracks.

"No, I don't think so." Hoodie replied, after a moment of thought.

"Why do you care?" BEN asked Hoodie, peering at him suspiciously.

Hoodie shrugged. "I don't care too much. Just figured Toby would want to know if she was dating somebody else. I mean, if he did like her." Hoodie cocked his head to the side, looking at Toby through his mask.

"W-what do you mean? She's dating somebody?" Toby's hand began to involuntarily rub at his neck.

"Not yet anyway. But I did hear that Jeff might ask her out." Hoodie said casually.

"Jeff? Tha-" BEN's words were quickly cut off by Hoodie smacking him in the side. Toby's mind was too preoccupied with visions of you and Jeff together, that he didn't notice.

"S-shit. Do... do you think she'd say y-yes?" Toby asked apprehensively.

"I don't know. But if you did have feelings for Y/N, which you say you don't, but if you did then you should probably tell her how you feel before Jeff does. Just in case." Hoodie said pointedly.

Toby nodded his head several times before yelling about how he had to do something (something totally unrelated) and then dashing out of the room.

Toby ran down the lengths of the corridors, desperate to find you before Jeff could. His heart pinched to think of what would happen if you did decide to go out with Jeff. He couldn't bear it.

Toby was so lost in his thoughts that he narrowly missed running directly into Sally, who was wandering the halls as well.

"Sorry, Sally, I gotta go." Toby puffed, out of breath.

"Toby! You gotta come play with me!" Sally looked at him with eyes full of childish begging.

"Not now, Sal." Toby bounced impatiently, waiting for her to move.

"Toby Rogers, you come play with me right now!" Sally crossed her arms. "Or I'll tell Slendy that you were being mean to me."

Toby looked down at her in shock. "You wouldn't."

Sally stuck her tongue out playfully. Toby sighed, then ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

"Fine! *Fine wine, very fine wine* I-I'll go play with you. But it has to be quick, I'm really *busy bee* busy!" Toby pleaded.

"Okey-dokey!" Sally exclaimed happily, grabbing Toby's hand and pulling him along to her playroom.

When Toby entered Sally's playroom, he was expecting to find the table set for tea, with various stuffed animals positioned into chairs and dressed in different colored tutus. That wasn't a surprise. What was an unexpected surprise, however, was finding you sitting in one of Sally's pink plastic chairs. Toby skidded to a stop, like a deer in headlights, taking in the sight of you perched in the tiny chair with a princess tiara on your head.

"Hi, Toby." You waved slightly. "Like the tiara?"

"Uh, yeah. It, um, it looks-it looks great." Toby stuttered out.

"We're going to play Princess Tea Time." Sally announced loudly, putting on a tiara of her own.

"Y/N and I are going to be princesses, of course." Sally gestured to the matching tiaras.

"Tickles and Marmalade will be the Ladies-in-Waiting." Sally pointed to a pink bear and a blue triceratops. "Larry is going to be a knight, and my very romantic fiance." She gestured to a manatee.

"And Toby is going to be the prince from another kingdom that comes to tea!" Sally beamed.

Toby plastered a big fake smile on his face before Sally's game of play-pretend began.

The three of you had been playing for a good twenty minutes, and Toby had been having a good time in spite of the circumstances. He had been enjoying himself enough to have forgotten about the whole Jeff thing entirely. Sally was serving real cookies, and there was fruit punch in the pink teapot. Sally is an excellent little actress, and she had adopted an over-the-top British accent to go with her whole "diva princess madly in love with the lowly knight" vibe that she had going. Toby found himself relaxing as time went on, and he found his ability to actually converse like a normal person. He had even made a few jokes that you'd laughed at.

However, Sally decided it was high time to raise the stakes of her little game.

"Prince Toby, what just fell out of your pocket?" Sally asked, pointing to a spot of nothing on the floor. She leaned over to pick up nothing off the floor, then pretended to 'read' whatever it was. She gasped dramatically, hands over her heart.

"Prince Toby! This letter states your love for Princess Y/N!" Sally exclaimed. "And just when were you going to confess to my dear sister?"

"I-I-um, I-" Toby stuttered, unable to think of how to play along. This was becoming too close for comfort.

"It's true?!" Sally gasped dramatically once more, ignoring Toby's failed acting attempt. "Good heavens! Sister, what do you think?"

"I... I don't know, dear sister. What ever should I do?" You asked Sally, half-playing along.

"Well, we have to determine if Prince Toby's love for you is true." Sally turned to Toby excitedly. He stared at her blankly in return.

"Well? Go on, tell her how you feel." Sally urged.

Toby looked at you and suddenly words starting coming out of his mouth that seemed to stumble right from his heart. "I don't know how to act when I'm around you, because you make me so nervous. You're the most amazing person I've ever met in my life. You're like... like a goddess to me. You're so beautiful, and kind, and you're always so nice to me of all people, and I really wanted to tell you this before, especially since there's other guys that want your heart, but I was scared of what you'd say..." Toby trailed off, heart racing. "I, uh, that's how the prince, I mean me, that's how I feel about you. Princess Y/N." Toby tripped over his words, trying to act like it was all part of the game.

"Now that was romantic." Sally sighed happily.

The game ended shortly after that, due to Slender calling Sally downstairs so she could watch some cartoons that she liked, which was a good thing since Toby could hardly bring himself to look you in the eyes. He worried that you had read between the lines and realized that his words were actually true. Sally had just skipped out of the room when Toby stood and faced you. You stood as well, plucking your tiara from your head and fiddling with it.

"That was a pretty intense game." You half-laughed after several beats of awkward silence.

"Y-yeah, it was." Toby looked at the ground.

"Sally's got quite the imagination."

"Yeah. *Yeah, yeah*"

"You do too."

"What?"

"I mean, coming up with that whole thing about how the prince feels about the princess? That was pretty creative."

"Oh, yeah... about that..." Toby trailed off. "S-sorry if I made you uncomfortable or anything."

"No, no, it's fine. You were just playing the part." You smiled to try to put his obvious nerves at ease.

"But-but I wasn't." Toby looked you in the eyes.

"You weren't?"

"No, I..." Toby drew in a deep breath. "I really like you."

"In what way?" You asked, half in a whisper.

"That-that way. The-the lovey kind of way?" Toby half-whispered back, unsure of your reaction.

"Really?" Your eyes brightened with hope.

"I like you so much and I really want to be your-your....your prince." Toby looked down at his hands, before glancing back at you. "If-if you want me to. I get it if you d-don't like me..."

"No!" You cut him off. "I like you, too."

"In that same way?" Toby glanced at you hopefully.

"Yes. In that same lovey kind of way." You repeated his words with a smile on your face.

Toby's entire face lit up with joy as he pulled you in close for a hug and maybe a kiss.

"Guess things worked out for old Toby after all." BEN mentioned to Hoodie after the two of you announced to the mansion later that day that you were together.

"I guess they did." Hoodie commented.

"What about the whole Jeff thing, though? He never mentioned anything to me, and I'm his best friend, and then you practically body-slammed me earlier when I was talking about it." BEN turned to face Hoodie.

"Oh, I made that all up." Hoodie said casually taking a sip of the drink he was holding.

"What? Dude, why?" BEN shook his head in confusion.

"Because," Hoodie began as he looked across the room at the happy new couple, "he would never have told her otherwise if I didn't give him just a little push."

#🪓#🐦🎶#🐦 dancing parrot anon #💖 requests #creepypasta scenarios #🎀 scenarios #🪓 toby rogers 🪓#ticci toby #toby rogers #creepypasta toby rogers 🪓#toby rogers x reader #🪓 ticci toby 🪓#creepypasta x reader #creepypasta #spookybreadstick

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winter-lily-flowers · 3 years

Text

Broken Sleep

Gojo Satoru falls in love with one of his students // This story contains 18+ themes that some readers may find uncomfortable or distasteful. By continuing to read, you consent to this content. Minors DNI.

Start from Chapter One

Chapter Three: Aiko

A large hand appears in front of me, holding a paper cup of coffee. The strange teacher man puts it down on the table and then flops onto the train seat beside mine. For the last ten minutes I’ve been alone as we’ve been speeding through the countryside and I’ve been huddled by a window in my institution grey sweatpants and sweater and slippers on my feet.

“I put sugar in it. How old are you, Aiko?”

Has it been my birthday already? I don’t think so. The drugs have set in my brain like glue. “Fifteen.”

“You’ll fit right in with my first years. We’ve got a strange bunch this year,” he finishes with a laugh, and then grins as he stares out the window.

His first years. He said that with propriety and pride, as if having a bunch of misfits around is his goal in life. He still hasn’t taken those sunglasses off and not being able to see his eyes makes it seem like he’s got something to hide. The pale blue shirt he’s wearing is loose on his large frame and is open at the throat, revealing his collarbone and shoulder muscle. He sits with the careless attitude of a teenage boy, knees wide, foot bouncing.

“Sorry, who are you?”

The man stares at me for a moment and then bursts out laughing again. “Did I just steal you away without introducing myself? Gojo Satoru, teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu High. Your school, now.”

I blink at him. “I can’t go to school. I’m a murderer.”

He waves his hand like me being a murderer is as trivial as a buzzing fly. “I read all about you. That was a first grade, maybe even a special grade cursed spirit that got your parents. Sounds like you fought back and even exorcised a few of its friends.”

His smile widens as he looks down at me.

But I didn’t do anything. I watched my parents be ripped apart, and then when everything stopped, I ran. I rub my fingers over my eyes and try to listen as...Goto? Goro? He keeps talking animatedly about the school. My eyes close, just for a second. Just so I can pull myself back together, ready to listen.

***

I open my eyes to a sea of soft blue and a slow, deep heartbeat pounding in my ear. I feel myself lift and fall in a gentle rhythm. So warm. The institution is always cold and hostile, but I feel wrapped up tight and safe.

I glance down and realize I am wrapped up tight. I’m asleep against that man’s chest and his arms are around me. He seems to be asleep as well. At some point we’ve switched places and his back is against the window and I’m between his knees with my legs over his thigh.

The man’s face is relaxed in sleep. I still can’t see his eyes, but he looks about thirty. A strong, angular face and slightly tipped up nose. A wide mouth with a full lower lip. He doesn’t look like the sort of man to devote himself to teaching maths to a bunch of teenagers. Even asleep, he radiates energy.

The train begins to slow and a cool voice sounds “We are now arriving at Ikebukuro Station. Please ensure that you have all of your belongings with you. This will be the final stop.”

I try to sit up but the man’s arms are locked around me.

“Uh, excuse me, we’re here and...wake up!”

He breathes in deeply, then squeezes me tight as he yawns noisily. “Tokyo?” he asks, turning to look out the window as we slide into the station. Without waiting for an answer, he lets me go and gets to his feet.

Outside the train station, we get into a waiting car driven by a thin-faced, nervous looking man with black hair. The man escorting me greets him happily and they begin discussing things my brain can’t follow. Strange, nonsensical things and so many people and places. Grade one this and grade two that. Sorcerers. Curses. Either I’m not hearing right or these two men are crazier than I am.

We drive up into the mountains and arrive at a beautiful Buddist temple with a collection of buildings in an old Japanese style, shrouded in mist and enormous trees. The air smells sweet and clean. It feels clean, too, and secure.

Strange but strong. Like the man leading me across the grounds.

Down below on a sports field, I can see half a dozen students brandishing wooden staffs and swords. Some of them are moving impossibly fast and creating coloured flashed. I barely have time to figure out what they’re doing when we pass into a building, walk down a corridor and stop by a door.

The strange man in dark glasses turns to me. I barely come up to his shoulder and have to tilt my head up to look at him. Finally, he’s going to explain what’s really going on and why I’m here.

“Shoko will be here to see you soon. Bye!” He pats the top of my head and walks off, hands in his pockets and whistling.

Thank you for reading. This is an ongoing story and I’ll be posting one chapter a day 🌸

#gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x oc #tw: age gap #tw: teacher student

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ao3commentoftheday · 4 years

Audio

My question is regarding Importer Syndrome. I've written a few fics, of which 2 in particular have gained a decent amount of attention. As a result, I have developed a 'following'. I see my name dropped, I get tagged in memes and people have started messaging me for writing advice. My 'day job' has nothing to do with writing and everything I've learned has been trial and error. I find myself so nervous by the attention I want to quit and become a non-entity again. How do people deal with doubt?

Thanks for your question, anon.

Um, first of all I hear you. I became an ask blog by accident. It just sort of happened. And people come to me, for whatever reason, and think that I know what I'm talking about.

The way I deal with it when people ask me questions is I just try to say, "This is me. This is what I think. This is one person's opinion. I am not the be all and end all. And please, talk to other people and see what they think as well." And I facilitate that by reblogging additions to my posts.

(By the way, shout out to everybody who's added stuff to my posts. I love you, and I thank you.)

One question I have for you anon, though, is why do you think that this attention is somehow not deserved?

Just because you've learned something through trial and error doesn't mean you haven't learned it. And just because your day job has nothing to do with writing doesn't mean that you can't write well.

Professional work, um, formal training - these are not necessary to be good at something. You can have an innate talent. You can develop that talent through practice. Um. You can be completely talent-less and develop talent through practice.

What these people think of when they- when they read your writing, when they ask you these questions. They're not necessarily thinking that you are the pinnacle. They're just thinking, "I like how this person writes, and I want to write more like them."

So maybe they like your sense of humour. Maybe they like the way you use metaphor. Maybe they think that the way you structure your stories is really interesting. And that's all fair, and that's all valid.

I, myself, um, I reach out to other people in my fandom, other writers that I um, look up to? I remember a couple of years ago, I [laughs] just sent probably a half dozen asks, easily, within a week to the same writer just because her talent completely blew me away and the way she wrote and her style of story was so different from mine, and I wanted to get a better idea of her thought process, her writing process, and how she was able to create these amazing, wonderful stories that were so, in my opinion, far outside of my own abilities.

Meanwhile, I had other people asking me questions of how did I do this? or where did I get the idea for that? so. Y'know. It's. One of those great things about fandom spaces like this is that you become a member of a community, and that community can share ideas and share expertise, and it doesn't have to be as stressful as I think it feels like it is for you.

I think if you- if you take a step back and you say, um, "People appreciate me, and that's nice. And I can share my thoughts and they can take what they will from them." Right? If you- if you lower the pressure on yourself. If you make it less about teaching? and more about sharing. That might help a little bit, you know.

That's what I- that's what I do with this blog. It's not- It's less about me telling people, "This is right and this is wrong." Because there very rarely is a case where something is right and something is wrong. It's more about sharing an idea and then seeing what germinates. If you will.

I don't know if this is going to help at all, so I'm going to open it up to everybody else. And I'm very sorry for talking so long. I hope you got something out of it.

#asks and answers #audio asks

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chilligyu · 3 years

Text

tagged by: @kwonsyoungs

tagging: @mingtiddies, @dreamystuffers, @xuseokgyu, @gamerwoo, @celestialpearls and anyone else who wants to do this!

What day is your birthday?

august 16th, agust d day

What is your favorite color?

mint or peach

What’s your lucky number?

Do you have any pets?

two kitties

How tall are you?

5'6" / 170cm

How many pairs of shoes do you own?

realistically, between my apartment and my parents house, probably like 20 (if anyone finds the missing shoe for each pair let me know)

Favorite song?

curse you for making me pick first love by bts (suga)

Favorite movie?

kiki's delivery service, a perfect movie

Who would be your ideal partner?

understanding, compassionate, goofy, intelligent, kind

Do you want children?

i go back and forth, currently yeah

Have you ever got in trouble with the law?

Baths or showers?

showers

What color socks are you wearing?

i am not wearing socks

What type of music do you like?

easier question: what type of music do you not like aggressive meaningless rap, songs that flex about how rich and successful the artist is when they're actually huge assholes, post 1950's country, most things that make it to top 40

How many pillows do you sleep with?

two

What position do you usually sleep in?

side sleeper, sometimes i hug my pillow

What you don’t like when you are sleeping?

lights and repetitive sounds, sometimes my boyfriend leaves his phone open while he scrolls through youtube shorts, i couldn't sleep one night because i couldn't stop hyperfocusing on the 10 second clip repeating

What do you typically have for breakfast?

nothing or frozen waffles, maybe crepes when i have the energy

Have you ever tried archery?

not beyond the archery unit that i had in gym in high school

Favorite fruit?

raspberries

Favorite swear word?

fuck, it's so versatile

Do you have any scars?

Are you a good liar?

ya, but i never lie to people i know personally (customers tho? yeah the kitchen totally lost your ticket and i totally didn't forget to ring it in)

What is your personality type

infp/entp, i've got conflicting results... i should retake it shouldn't i

What is your favorite type of girls?

all

Are you an innie or an outie?

innie

Left or right handed

left

Favorite food?

mashed potatoes

Favorite foreign food?

right now, definitely thai

Are you a clean or messy person?

i have untreated adhd, my apartment is a mess

Most used phrase?

my brain just expelled all knowledge of words

How long does it take for you to get ready?

30-45 minutes (30 for makeup and 15 to decide and re-decide my outfit)

Do you talk to yourself?

a lot

Do you sing to yourself?

all the time

Are you a good singer?

no clue i don't ask

Biggest Fear?

losing creativity

Are you a gossip?

nope, but people at work are testing my patience right now and "keep my name out of your mouth" has been uttered more than once

Do you like long or short hair?

super short

Favorite school subject?

forensics, i had an interesting high school

Extrovert or Introvert?

extroverted 20% of the time, introvert 80%. as a waitress i kinda have to force myself to enjoy people.

What makes you nervous?

fear of failure

Who was your first real crush?

lol i should read his name was cody, and there was more than one cody, don't ask me why

How many piercings do you have?

i have 8 holes in my ears total (i don't know if this is 4 piercings or 8 since they're not symmetrical i'm confused) and my belly button, i was actually planning on getting two more today but work stressed me out so i forgot to make an appointment

How fast can you run?

i used to be pretty fast, but i'm so out of shape now. i used to outrun all the braggart jocks and jerks

What color is your hair?

brown

What color are your eyes?

black

What makes you angry?

lack of empathy, liars, entitlement, and the usuals, r*cists, homo/transph*bes, p*dophiles, r*pists

Do you like your own name?

now that i've reduced it down to three letters, i love it. you call me by my full name and hellfire shall descend upon you (unless you're family)

Do you want a boy a girl for a child?

i want to have a child that isn't relegated into traditional gender roles and become their truest self as they grow. i want them to be happy

What are your strengths?

accidentally saying something profound

What are your weaknesses?

since i forgot what i was gonna say, let's just say my unmedicated adhd is a pretty big weakness because idk if it's just that for the half a dozen concussions i've had in my life but i can't remember shit

Color of your bedspread?

grey and pink

Color of your room?

grey (apartment life)

#tag game #things i find scrolling through my likes #since i use my likes as an all around reference page lol

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melodious-madrigals · 3 years

Text

we should just kiss (like real people do)

hi @misha-winchester, i am your wondertrev secret santa! i hope you had a lovely christmas season/whatever holidays you may celebrate, and i hope you have a very happy new year.

Pairing: Diana Prince/Steve Trevor Words: 8′609 Rating: T (swearing) AO3 tags: Modern Setting/No Powers, co-workers, Fake Dating, ‘and there was only one bed’, Hallmark-movie-esque midsunderstandings, Happy Ending Summary: Etta just invited Steve’s significant other along on their group holiday vacation. The only problem? He made said significant other up to get out of a series of set-ups six months ago, and forgot to set the record straight. Enter Diana, his newest co-worker and real-life crush, who doesn’t have any holiday plans and is somehow offering to help him out.

i have been derelict for too long, but no more! i’m so sorry that it took me so long, and i hope you enjoy this trope-packed fic, because i couldn’t decide on just one, and then it sort of ballooned!

Read it on [AO3] or below the cut.

***

“Shit.” Steve’s head thunks against his desk.

“Problem?”

He looks up to find Diana Prince, the newest legal consultant at their NGO standing in his office door. She’s intimidating and smart and beautiful and possibly also the kindest person he’s ever met, and even though they’re friendly, she’s the last person to whom he wants to admit what’s wrong. But she’s also looking at him with such genuine concern that he spills his guts anyways.

“The last time my friend Etta tried to set me up with someone, I told her I was already dating someone, and now she wants me to bring them on our annual holiday trip to one of our friend’s cabin.” Steve kneads the space between his eyebrows, trying to get rid of the tension headache that’s starting to form.

Diana tilts her head, confused. “That’s kind of her.”

“I’m not actually dating anyone,” Steve clarifies. “I just said it to get her off my back. And now I have to either say I lied—which will not go over well for obvious reasons—or say that I broke up with the person and get all sorts of ‘holiday pity’.”

Diana leans elegantly against his doorframe. “People go their separate ways all the time, no? Besides, maybe it’s a bit soon for a weekend away with friends.”

Steve winces. “It’s possible that I told her this almost six months ago and never corrected the record.”

“Ah,” says Diana, taking the liberty of moving into his office and sitting down across from him. “So it’s rather a large deception then.”

“I didn’t mean for it to get so out of hand? It was just so nice to not have my friends nagging me about my dating life. They’re well intentioned but a little too insistent sometimes.”

“Okay, so telling them is out of the question,” Diana says, very seriously. And—uh-oh, she’s going into problem-solving mode. He’s absolutely mortified that his very capable and very attractive co-worker is taking time to talk with him about this when she’s a literal international human rights lawyer and university lecturer with plenty of other things to be doing. “Hmm. Isn’t that what Craigslist is for?”

“Ha,” says Steve. “I’m never going to be able to get someone to come with me over Christmas on such short notice.”

“Not everyone has plans on Christmas,” Diana argues.

“Yeah, I get that; I’m not even Christian,” says Steve. “But a lot of people still go home because it’s a long holiday.”

“I’m not Christian either and I don’t have any family here in the States. We exist,” Diana jokes.

“Want to be my fake date, then?” The words leave Steve’s mouth before his brain can catch up and tell him what a massively stupid idea that would be, to fake date his real crush, for lack of a better word.

“Yes, alright: if you can’t find someone on Craigslist, I’ll do it,” says Diana, and then before Steve can process: “Anyways, I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time. I just dropped by to give you a hard copy of my revisions. She hands him the legal brief, shoots him a quick smile, and saunters out of his office, apparently unaware of the dazed state she’s left him in.

I’ll do it? Is she serious? For a second, Steve’s mind runs away from him before he shuts it down. She was just being polite; he’s certain of it. There’s no way she wants to give up her days off to go to a cabin in the middle of nowhere with people she doesn’t even know.

Steve reluctantly writes up a quick wanted ad on Craigslist and hits post before he can overthink it. He can definitely do a fake date for the holidays, right? That’s something normal people do.

Three days later, he’s gotten a dozen responses to the Craigslist ad, but most of them are variants of either “is this some weird sex thing?” or “can you please post this story on reddit’s r/relationships with an update on how it went because i’m 2000 miles away but very invested in this”. None of them are a real live person that he can take on the trip to meet his friends.

His brain has also been playing Diana’s I’ll do it on repeat pretty much constantly, so on Tuesday evening, after most people have already gone home for the night, he steals himself and wanders down to Diana’s office. If she’s in, he’ll ask. If she’s gone, it’s a sign, and he won’t bring it up.

She’s still there, illuminated only by the glow of her computer and a small desk lamp—the overhead light is turned off and her coat is on, like maybe she was in the process of leaving and then went back to her desk to dash off one email that turned into several.

He taps on the doorframe.

“Steve!” she says, smiling when she sees him. “What a pleasant surprise! Have a seat, I’m just finishing something up. It’ll only be a moment.”

He smiles nervously and takes one of the chairs opposite her desk, patiently silent as she taps away at her computer.

Three minutes later, she folds her laptop closed and turns the weight of her attention to him.

“Thank you for being patient. What can I do for you?”

“I just—were you serious?”

“Hmm?”

“The other day—were you serious about being my fake date if I couldn’t find someone on Craigslist?”

“I—yes, I was.”

“Wait, really?”

She shrugs elegantly. “I have no holiday plans.”

“You’re sure.”

She tosses him an amused expression. “I am. It’ll be nice to meet some new people.”

“Right. Well. Can I, uh, buy you dinner or something while we go over the details?”

Diana considers him for a moment. “How does Thai takeout at my place sound?”

“Like a fantastic idea.”

On Friday, Steve is extremely antsy. He’s taken a half day, and he and Diana are driving up to Charlie’s cabin after her lecture lets out.

She’s in a good mood when he picks her up, and the ensuing discussion crosses a half a dozen different topics. He doesn’t think they’ve ever had a boring conversation, and they’re more than halfway there before Steve remembers that he wanted to run through the basics of their fake-dating mandate again.

“I’ve never really been much for PDA,” he says, “so they won’t be surprised if we’re not particularly demonstrative. A little hand-holding and casual touching here and there and we’ll be fine.”

“Yes,” replies Diana, amused rather than annoyed. “You mentioned this the other day.”

“Did I? I guess I’m just nervous.” He’s already feeling a little guilty about lying to his friends (again), and he’s suddenly wondering if he’s capable of pulling it off.

“They asked me to invite you—er, my significant other—to a dinner in October. I don’t think it’ll come up, but—”

“I spent a week of October in Europe, and have plenty of university functions to attend,” Diana reassures him. “Saying I was busy that night probably isn’t even a lie, and besides, that was months ago. Take a breath; this will be okay.”

“I’m just rethinking this,” huffs Steve.

“You’re welcome to tell them I’m just a friend that needed a place to stay for the holidays,” Diana offers calmly.

“No. No, I’m committed to the lie now.”

“Okay. Then let’s do this. I’m here for you, you know.”

“Yeah,” says Steve, glancing over at her in the passenger seat before turning his attention back to the road. “Thanks.”

They’re the last ones to arrive to the cabin, because everyone else was able to take the full day off, so they walk into a full house.

“Oh, it’s so lovely to finally meet you!” exclaims Etta, pulling Diana into a hug before they’ve barely gotten in the door.

“You must be Etta,” Diana says, once she’s been let go. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Hey, Etta,” Steve says, pulling her in for his own hug.

“Everyone else is in the living room.”

They make their way down the hall, towards the sound of all the voices.

“Steve!” yells Sameer from across the room when they round the corner. A cheer goes up—it’s possible that some of them have already had a glass or two of wine—and Steve pulls Diana forward to introduce her.

“Everyone, this is Diana. Diana, this is Napi, Charlie, Etta’s wife Adrienne, Sameer, and Sameer’s fiancée Noor.”

“It’s so lovely to meet all of you,” says Diana, moving forward to shake hands and give hugs, along with Steve.

“You’ll want to drop off your luggage in your room, I’m sure,” Etta declares forcefully, shooing them back out of the room once they’re done with the greetings.

“Alright, alright, we’re going,” acquiesces Steve.

“Well, dinner will be done shortly, and I’m sure you’re hungry. Best get settled in before you go into a food coma.”

“Stop making sense,” he snarks, but they all know he’s joking.

“Second door on the left!” calls Etta after him, as they traipse up the stairs. There’s a niggling in his brain about this room, because he’s been in it once and it’s—

“Shit,” says Steve under his breath upon entering the room, because it’s one of the rooms with a single queen bed instead of two twins.

“Is there something wrong with the room?” asks Diana, a step behind him. “I’m sure we can fix it, whatever it is.”

“No, it’s just—I didn’t even think about this,” says Steve, gesturing at the bed. “Usually when I come, I’m in a different room with Charlie or Napi.”

Diana surveys the space in front of them. “You mean the bed?” Her nose wrinkles. “Are you really that uncomfortable sharing?”

“I—no, of course I’m not. I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Well then, that’s settled. I am not uncomfortable. Which side do you prefer?”

Of course it’s not a big deal. Right. He’s making too much out of this because he might—possibly—have feelings. But for Diana, it’s just two adults sharing a bed, which is perfectly natural. But now she’s looking at him expectantly, which makes him realize—“Uh, left, I guess.”

The way she smiles, he gets the distinct impression that his answer has pleased her, that he’s chosen correctly, if such a thing is possible. (He thinks, stupidly, that he would do quite a lot to chase that smile.)

Meanwhile, Diana drops her duffel on the right side of the bed.

“Do you mind if I change quickly before dinner?”

“Yeah, no, of course. I’ll just be downstairs.”

Steve heads back downstairs and pauses in the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face.

He can definitely share a bed with Diana. They’re adults. It’s not strange, and it’s not romantic. It’s just two people sharing a sleeping space because there are not enough beds.

He reenters the living room to find Charlie and Sameer in the middle of an argument about who’s the better cross-country skier while Noor, Adrienne, and Etta chat over a cup of tea and Napi watches over several pots in the kitchen.

“The answer, of course, is neither of you. Noor is the best skier here.”

Charlie squawks indignantly, and Sameer laughs. “That she is.”

“Can someone set the table?” asks Napi. “Dinner is about to be ready.”

Steve, as the closest one to the kitchen, pulls out the plates and silverware and starts setting up the table, while the others slowly drift towards the dining area.

And then there’s a gentle pressure on his elbow. “Can I help with anything?” asks Diana, softly, and when he turns, he feels the air knocked out of him.

Diana is all comfort, in simple black leggings and a chunky winter sweater instead of her usual pristine business wear, but she’s all the more beautiful for the casualness. Her face, too, is wiped clean of standard makeup and her hair is down, and he realizes that she has freckles. They’re faint, just the slightest smattering over her nose and cheeks, but Steve is close enough to see them, and for a second he wants to touch them, trace them into constellations.

Then he realizes he’s staring and jumps a little, moving to rearrange the plate in front of him.

“You could, uh, fold the napkins, I guess? There isn’t really a whole lot to do.”

They work in tandem as the rest of the crew files in, loud and boisterous as they dish out their meals.

“So, Diana,” says Etta, once everyone is settled in their seats, “tell us all about yourself! Steve’s been so tight-lipped about you that I was starting to think you didn’t exist.”

Steve almost chokes on his wine, but Diana doesn’t so much as flinch, simply smiling at Etta and saying, “Well, I’m not sure what you’d like to know, but I’m originally from one of the Grecian islands and I completed my studies in the UK. Right now, I’m splitting my time between the US and the Netherlands.”

“Oh, what part of the Netherlands?” asks Noor. “Sameer and I both lived there, at different points!”

“Just the Hague, I’m afraid,” says Diana ruefully, because it’s not known for its charms.

“Diana’s on a prosecutorial team at the International Criminal Court,” Steve clarifies, which prompts a number of impressed looks all around the table.

“We’re in between cases right now,” Diana says, “and we’re only just starting to file some pre-trial motions for the next thing on our docket, so I took a position as a guest lecturer here in the States. A friend of mine convinced me to take the consulting position at the ARGUS Foundation since it’s not full-time.” When Diana pauses, she notices a number of raised eyebrows around the table. “I think the expression in English is ‘I wear a lot of hats’,” she jokes.

“She’s a wonder,” interjects Steve easily, and he doesn’t even have to work at the soft look that he gives her. (He’ll interrogate the fact that it’s just how he looks at her later, when he’s alone and can have a nice little panic about it.)

“I just like to have purpose,” says Diana, and then Noor asks her about her last case, and the conversation takes on a life of its own.

Diana, as he suspected, gets on well with his friends, fitting in as though she’s known them years instead of hours, and they migrate into the living room after dinner, talking and laughing into the late hours of the evening.

“They are all lovely,” Diana tells him the moment the door to their room has closed behind them.

“They’re okay,” says Steve, but his face is pulled up in a smile, and Diana just laughs. He’s spent all evening getting to look at her whenever he wants, and even though they’re alone, even though there’s no need for his eyes to keep finding her, he doesn’t want to pull them away.

“They’re all so interesting!” Diana exclaims. “Sameer and I talked about linguistics for a full half an hour, and Etta and Adrienne’s stories are incredible!”

That makes him laugh. “Yeah, Etta’s something else.”

They talk a little more as they get ready for bed, and finally there’s nothing more to do but turn out the light and get under the covers. Steve’s tired enough that he thinks he has a decent shot at falling asleep, but he feels a little awkward as they both shift carefully on their respective sides.

“Hey,” he whispers into the deepness of the silky black night. “Thank you again for being here.”

“It is my pleasure.”

He listens to Diana’s breathing quickly even out, and though it takes him a little longer, he too falls asleep without too much trouble, despite her nearness.

To his great relief, or maybe to his great disappointment, they wake up in almost the exact same positions that they fell asleep in, on completely opposite sides of the bed.

“Good morning,” says Diana softly, hair slightly mussed and eyes still a little heavy with sleep, and frankly Steve’s not sure how he’s going to make it through the rest of the trip, because he likes her so much and also doesn’t want to impose his feelings.

“Good morning. I hope you’re ready for another insane day.”

“Once I’ve had some coffee, absolutely.”

“Well then,” says Steve, “let’s get you some coffee.”

Coffee is followed by breakfast, which is chaotic because everyone is up at slightly different times and traditionally, they fend for themselves for breakfast which means in practice that half a dozen people end up doing things in the kitchen at the same time.

The rest of the day is no calmer, as they all pack themselves up and spill outside for a snowy hike that lasts most of the afternoon. Diana, Etta, and Napi establish themselves as the fastest hikers early on, and they sort of naturally split into two groups. The whole group meets back up at one of the lookout points, where the faster group has lingered to let the rest catch up.

Steve uses the viewpoint to check in with Diana. “You doing okay?”

When she turns to him, her cheeks are rosy with exertion, her breath is coming out in silvery puffs in the cold air, and her eyes are dancing. “Excellent, you?”

“Really good.” They take in the snowy view in front of them. “Hey, I didn’t mean to leave you on your own,” Steve says, suddenly feeling a little awkward.

Diana snorts. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I was the one that walked ahead of you. If I’d been bothered, I wouldn’t have split off with Napi and Etta.”

“Right, of course.” He feels a bit stupid; she’s never struck him as the type to do something she really didn’t want to.

“We should probably walk back together though. For appearances.” She winks at him, and before he can respond, Noor is at his elbow.

“Can I take a picture for you two?”

“That would be great,” says Diana, handing Noor her phone as she slips her arm around his waist.

Pictures are snapped, and then they’re headed back down the trail. Steve ends up so engrossed in his conversation with Diana that the rest of the group fades away, and on the last straightway after they’ve descended, Diana reaches out and casually links their hands. Even through their gloves, it’s a giddy feeling.

That night after dinner, Steve steps outside for a moment of respite from the noisiness of the cabin. He breathes deeply, and stares at the patch of sky not covered in clouds, picking out a familiar constellation.

“Diana’s wonderful.”

Steve looks up from where he was leaning against the balcony railing to find that Etta has joined him outside.

“Yeah, she’s pretty great,” Steve agrees.

“I’m sorry you didn’t feel comfortable introducing us earlier,” says Etta so sincerely that Steve feels a squirming guilt welling up. “But if this was the pace you needed to go to be sure of your relationship, to make it solid and lasting, I’m glad you took the space to do so.”

“Right,” Steve echoes.

“Seriously, Steve,” says Etta, touching his arm, so that he’s almost forced to look at her. “You and Diana are so well-suited, and she’s good for you—I’ve never seen you like this.”

“What’s this?”

Etta contemplates him a moment. “You’re happy,” she says simply, and Steve rolls his eyes, because if Etta thinks just being in a relationship equates to—“but it’s not just that. You’re…still. Calm. You’ve usually got this frenetic, discontented energy, and with Diana it’s quieted.”

It makes Steve pause, but before he can say anything—refute her or maybe, heaven forbid, agree with her—Diana herself is bursting onto the balcony.

“There you are!” she exclaims, wrapping her arms around him from the back, and fuck, maybe it is his instinct to relax in the split second before he remembers that this is all an act. “Charlie says we’re roasting marshmallows over the fire, and I’m told that you have the technique perfected,” she says, with all the exuberant glee of a child.

Steve pointedly ignores the knowing, indulgent look on Etta’s face as he turns in Diana’s arms to face her, a small but unquashable smile on his face. “That’s a classic holiday tradition for us—I was wondering when Charlie was going to break them out. Have you ever had a s’more?”

“No, but I’m looking forward to it!”

“Well, then we can’t let Sameer or Etta roast yours; they always burn them.”

“It’s meant to be eaten with a little char,” says Etta.

“Absolutely not!” Steve doesn’t have time to say any more, because Diana has laced her hand in his and his gently tugging him toward the interior.

“Right. This is an American classic and you’re gonna love it.”

After making her the perfect marshmallow—gold and toasty, and soft all the way through without being burned—the rest of the night is spent roasting increasingly silly things over the coals and drinking copious amounts of hot chocolate and eggnog that are optionally spiked, utterly warm and cozy.

“Tell me something about yourself,” requests Diana, when they’re tucked into bed later, still on their own sides but far closer together than they were the night before.

“Like what?”

“Something—well, not something secret, if you don’t want to. But something that most people probably don’t know.”

Steve considers her for a moment, shifting so that he’s facing her, the moon providing just enough light that he can see the contours of her face. “I wanted to be a pilot.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I wanted to be a fighter pilot.”

Diana grins. “I can see that. What stopped you?”

“I decided I wouldn’t really be helping people, and helping people is what I wanted to do. What about you?”

“What did I want to be?”

“No, just—anything.”

“Hmm,” says Diana. “My favorite childhood memories are those of my aunt, Antiope.”

“Was she the cool aunt who spoiled you rotten?”

“She was the aunt that got me up at six in the morning every day to train.”

“Wow, that’s neat, I guess,” Steve deadpans, and Diana laughs in the darkness, rolling onto her side so that she’s facing him, so that they’re almost nose to nose.

“She was also more indulgent than my mother, yes.”

“I think we have very different definitions of indulgent,” says Steve.

“Perhaps,” says Diana, and despite how late it is, they spend another hour or two trading secrets in the darkness before falling asleep. Steve learns, among other things, that she loves cherries more than any other fruit, that she’d rather take the metro than a cab any day of the week, that she played the harp for a while and misses playing music but not playing the instrument itself. When they finally drift off to sleep, it’s still facing each other, fingers inches apart.

Steve wakes up feeling incredibly comfortable and very cozy. It’s only when he stretches a little that he realizes that the warm weight against his chest is not his blanket, but Diana. During the night, they must have migrated into each other, because now that his brain is coming back online, Steve realizes that not only is Diana tucked into his chest, but their legs are twined together. His shifting causes her to stir a little, but only to nuzzle against him a little before settling.

This is fine; he’s not freaking out. Not about how they’re accidentally pressed together, or about how much he likes her, or about what any of this means. Not about lines blurring and becoming harder to make out, not about lying to his friends. He’s fine.

Taking a breath, he weighs his options. He can wait for Diana to wake up and pretend he’s still asleep, and let her figure out how to react, or he can try to extricate himself now. Although it might wake her up, and then it would be doubly awkward, and—

And he’s waited too long in deciding, because Diana stretches a little sleepily and then blinks her eyes open, looking up at him.

“Good morning,” she says, apparently unbothered by their position. It’s making him spiral in confusion, and want, because it would be so easy to lean forward and kiss her, but neither has she directly expressed interest in him romantically, so he’s not about to actually do it.

“Did you sleep well?” asks Diana, gently untangling herself and sitting up.

Now that Steve thinks about it, he realizes that he’s slept better than he has in ages.

“Yeah,” he affirms a little hoarsely. “You?”

“Very well.” He’s considering saying something else—anything else, maybe apologizing for how closely they slept or, alternatively, telling her he adores her—when she continues, “How do you think everyone would feel about quiche?”

“Quiche?”

“One of the few reliable things I can cook,” says Diana, “but I have a good recipe, and I’m quite certain we have everything I’d need.”

Steve blinks. “I think it’d go over well.”

“Perfect!” Diana slips out of bed, sliding across the room with more of her infectious energy as she gathers her clothing for the day.

By the time Steve gets downstairs post-shower, Diana’s got the crust rolled out and blind-baking and has a number of veggies sautéing.

“Oh, good, you’re here! Can you pass me the mushrooms?” she asks, and he obliges, then takes it upon himself to crumble the cheese for her.

“Do you cook a lot?” he asks, and then curses himself, glancing around to make sure they’re alone and that nobody heard what was clearly a question that he, by all rights, should know the answer to. Blessedly, the only other person up is Napi, and he’s out on the porch.

“Not if I can help it,” says Diana. “You?”

“I enjoy it,” says Steve.

“Enjoy what?” asks Sameer, who’s just come down the stairs.

“Passing me ingredients when I tell him to,” teases Diana, successfully covering up what may have been a slip-up, because Sameer just rolls his eyes.

“You two are ridiculous.”

“More like adorable,” says Etta, who has apparently also been summoned by the smell of brewing coffee. “By the way—how did you two start dating? I’ve been meaning to ask since I never heard the story from this one”—she gestures at Steve—“and I’m sure it’s equally adorable.”

Steve can’t believe they’ve come this far without being asked, and that they didn’t do a better job of anticipating this question. He’s about to bumble his way through a response, but Diana, who is now pouring the egg mixture into the pan, has it covered.

“It’s sweet to me because it is ours, but I think you’ll otherwise find it quite boring. My third day of work, I came to his office by accident, looking for another colleague, and we traded a couple of jokes. Two days later, a bunch of people from the office went out for drinks after work, and I ran into Steve again. We spent a lot of the evening chatting, and when we left for the evening, he walked me to my train, and as we were waiting on the platform, he asked me out. He was kind and funny and handsome; there was no reason not to say yes.”

For a moment, Steve feels like he’s been hit by a train, because that’s actually how they met. They did spend an evening chatting, and he did wait on the platform with her. The only bit that didn’t happen was the asking out, and now he wonders what might have happened if he had. Then he reminds himself that it’s all an act, and she’s supposed to be acting like she likes him. He’s getting reality confused with the little mirage they’ve created.

“—it is sweet though,” Etta is saying when he snaps back to attention, unsure of just how much he’s missed.

“Yes, Steve is very thoughtful,” says Diana fondly.

He doesn’t really get a chance to ask her about it, because soon everyone is crowded around the table for breakfast, and that quickly turns into a card game, where they get separated by a few seats. It all somehow blends into lunch, as people swap in and out, Sameer and Noor doing the cooking, this meal, with Adrienne flitting in and out to help as she puts up a few extra lights for tonight’s Christmas eve celebration. He tries not to think about it too much, because Diana looks like she’s having a good time, and he is too, and eventually he gets swept up in the game, focusing on counting trump and keeping track of tricks and arguing genially with Charlie about who may or may not be cheating.

“Steve.” Diana pulls him aside after lunch, tugging him into their room.

“What’s up?” She looks entirely too serious, and it worries him. Is this about their story? Is something wrong?

“First kisses are always a bit awkward,” she says bluntly.

It’s so out of the blue that Steve’s brain doesn’t even short-circuit. He just blinks. “Yeah, usually.”

“Well, I just saw Adrienne putting mistletoe up. Your friends are wonderful people, but if we don’t get caught under it naturally, they’ll make sure we do.”

She’s got his friends pegged; that’s absolutely how they operate.

“They’ll recognize something is off if we’ve never kissed. I think we need to practice.”

Now Steve’s brain short-circuits.

“Practice.”

“It’s the only way to make sure it’s not during an ambush.” Her eyes are wide and she’s very close, so close that one of them could erase the distance without even taking a step, but she’s paused, waiting.

Waiting to see if it’s okay, if she has his consent.

His thoughts flick back, inexplicably, to this morning. (Was it really just this morning that they woke up tangled together? It seems a week ago already.) Knowing what it’s like to kiss her will probably explode his brain, but not knowing is worse. He nods, just a fraction, words caught in his throat, and then she’s closed the distance and pressed her lips to his.

Fireworks are for dramatic novels, but the world still shifts on its axis. It’s soft and slow, exploratory, but the pressure is somehow just right, and it consumes him. It’s everything he never let himself imagine it would be, and more. When she eventually pulls away—seconds, minutes, hours later, he’s not sure—he chases her lips for a moment before remembering himself, marshalling his reaction and pulling away in equal measure.

“Right, so. No mistletoe first kiss,” he manages, because seriously, what the fuck, he’s never had a first kiss feel that natural, that right.

“Mission accomplished,” says Diana faintly. “I think we’ll be fine.”

“Fine,” Steve echoes, and he thinks he sees Diana’s gaze flick back to his lips, dark and heavy, but then there’s the pounding of feet on the stairs and shouts outside their room.

“Steve! Diana! Are you in for another round of cards before we start the movie marathon?”

Diana startles, and takes three steps back, smoothing down her hair, her shirt, before opening the door to find Adrienne there, looking at them expectantly.

“Yes, of course,” says Diana.

“Oh,” smirks Adrienne, giving them a once over. “I can come back.”

“No, it’s alright. I’ll come down now; I want to get a cup of tea before we start up again. Steve?”

“I—yeah, a cup of tea would be great. Black tea—”

“—with a dash of honey, I know,” she says fondly, as if this is old news and not something she’s clearly picked up in the last day and a half.

“Thanks.”

When he collects himself and comes downstairs a few minutes later, he spots Diana across the room, head thrown back in laughter as she chats with Napi over the kettle.

She fits, he thinks. He’s seen her in professional settings, being diplomatic even when she doesn’t want to be, but here, she’s relaxed, and from everything she’s said, she likes his friends as much as they like her. Isn’t it sort of everyone’s dream that the person they like gets along with their friends?

He takes another second to try to untangle his thoughts before he gets ushered back into the fold and has to pretend that everything is uncomplicated.

Christmas day dawns bright and cold, and sees, for the second day in a row, Diana snuggled into Steve. Despite another meandering conversation in the dark—in which he absolutely chickened out of asking her about the backstory she created for them, or the kiss—and starting the night on different sides of the bed, they seem to have rolled together in their sleep, and if he didn’t wake up with an absolutely parched throat, Steve would’ve probably gone right back to sleep, enjoying the warmth. Instead, he extricates himself gently, and by the time he gets back to the room a few minutes later, Diana is up and dressed, dashing any plans he might’ve been entertaining for a bit of a lie-in.

As with most things on their holiday trips, the day is centered around food. There’s a huge brunch, and then a little foray outside—nothing like the hike the day before yesterday, just a little walk that turns into a snow angel contest—and then it’s back inside to start cooking Christmas dinner. It’s Etta and Charlie taking point, because, as Steve explains to Diana, the group rule for any and all holidays is that those who observe do the traditional cooking, and everybody else takes care of the clean-up.

At one point in the afternoon, a trivia game gets pulled out, and in a classic showdown of boys (Steve, Sameer, Napi) vs. girls (Diana, Noor, Adrienne), the ladies trounce them thoroughly. There’re plenty of mimosas and someone starts a Christmas playlist, and honestly, Steve can’t think of a better Christmas in a long, long time.

They don’t really exchange ‘real’ gifts, but they do have a long-standing tradition of an intense game of White Elephant, which happens after dinner.

No less than 4 items (a succulent in a corgi-shaped pot, a coffee mug with some gratuitously dirty language on it, a pair of wool socks with Munch’s The Scream emblazoned on them, and an umbrella patterned with cartoon gentleman amongst the raindrops so that it’s always raining men) get stolen so many times that they hit the limit. (Diana walks away the proud owner of the socks, thanks to a strategic steal by Steve, which sets her up to steal them for the last time.)

The mood is so light that Steve has almost forgotten that this isn’t quite real, that he’s lying to his friends and sort of lying to Diana, too. That comes crashing down when they bump into each other coming back into the living room.

See, Steve and Diana had managed to casually avoid the newly strung up mistletoe all of Christmas Eve and most of Christmas day—at least together, that is; at one point Steve finds himself under the mistletoe with Sameer, and they both dramatically grip each other for a theatre kiss—by sheer luck, but their luck runs out after White Elephant. Steve has gone into the kitchen to deposit an empty tray of food, and Diana is on her way back from the bathroom, and they collide in the doorframe.

Instinctively, Steve puts a hand out, touching the small of her back lightly to anchor himself and steady her. It’s just a casual touch, but he lingers a second too long.

“Oooh, look! Steve and Diana are under the mistletoe!” sings Adrienne, pointing from across the room.

Steve glances up automatically, as though maybe Adrienne might be wrong, even though he knows damn well that there’s mistletoe hanging there.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” chants Etta, clearly a little tipsy, and the rest of his asshole friends join in the chant.

Steve’s eyes flick to Diana’s, and she raises an eyebrow, inclines her head almost imperceptibly. It’s permission, so he leans in and gives her a quick kiss, their lips barely touching. He’s not sure he can handle more in front of his friends right now, not with all of the emotions pooling in his stomach.

“Boo!” yells Charlie. “You and Sameer had a better kiss than that!”

There’s general clamoring of assent, and Diana reaches out and cups a hand to his cheek, to a great whoop from someone in their little peanut gallery. “If you are uncomfortable, we do not have to do this,” Diana murmurs, low and close enough that only he can hear it.

The real problem is that Steve wants little more than to kiss her again, but he feels guilty about it.

“It’s okay.”

She searches his eyes for a moment, and then closes the rest of the distance, kissing him properly. He sinks into it, and relishes in the little gasp he elicits when he deepens the kiss just a little. It’s the catcalling that splits them apart, and he’s sure he looks a little shell-shocked.

“That’s a kiss!” hollers Adrienne.

To his surprise, Diana doesn’t immediately move away from him, but stays tucked into his side, blushing a little.

“You’re all just a little too invested in our love life,” she admonishes lightly, but the point is missed as Etta launches into a bit of a ramble about how Steve introduced her to Adrienne by accident and how she’s been looking to return the favor, but that she’s glad Diana is here.

Steve watches Diana go a bit pink again, and wants to pull her aside, try to clear some things up, but then there’s another round of mulled wine, and they settle in for one last Christmas movie before the day ends.

Diana goes to bed before Steve does, while he stays back to have another round with Charlie, and by the time he realizes that he wanted to talk to her alone, she’s fast asleep.

The morning of the twenty-sixth is chaotic from the start; Diana’s up and out of bed before Steve wakes up, and then everyone is scrambling to pack up before they all drive back to the city. This time, Diana and Steve have got Sameer and Noor with them, because they came with Napi, who’s leaving directly to visit some extended family, and Etta and Adrienne don’t have enough room because they’re Charlie’s ride. It’s a pleasant ride, and Noor, Sameer, and Diana spend a solid half hour swapping in and out of Arabic to tease Steve, who does speak three languages himself, but doesn’t count darija as one of them.

They drop Noor and Sameer off with promises of seeing them at Etta’s party on New Year’s Eve, at the very latest, and suddenly they’re alone again.

“Thank you again for doing this,” says Steve. “You were the best fake date I could’ve asked for.”

“It was my pleasure,” says Diana. “I had a really good time, and a fun holiday.”

“And you really don’t mind putting in an appearance at the New Year’s Eve party?”

“Not at all. I’m actually looking forward to it.”

“Good; I think everyone is looking forward to having you there.”

They’re quiet as they pull up to Diana’s building.

Before Diana can move to get out of the car, Steve takes a deep breath. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, anything.” Her wide eyes are trained on him, and he almost loses his nerve.

But it’s now or never; he has to know if this is just him or if she feels something too. “If I had asked you out, that night on the platform, would you have said yes?” It feels like the safest version of the question he wants to ask.

Diana doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

It knocks the wind out of him and is simultaneously one of the best things he’s ever heard, because maybe that means there’s still time to make a proper go of it.

“Do you—”

He’s cut off by Diana leaning forward and kissing him sweetly, and he instinctively pulls her a little closer, deepens the kiss without consciously thinking about it.

“Sorry, I interrupted you,” says Diana, biting back a smile when they eventually pull apart, breathless. It makes Steve laugh, and he can’t fight the grin that’s also building. There’s no one around to fool, no one around even to prepare for; this is just them.

“Do you want to come to mine for dinner tonight?” Steve asks, bubbling with a profound sort of happiness. “For a real date this time?”

“I would love that,” says Diana, grinning. “No tricks, no fake backstories. Just us.”

“That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

“Just give me a couple of hours to shower and change and answer a couple of emails?” Diana says.

“How does seven sound? I’ll cook.”

“I can’t wait.”

He watches her go, almost floating from how giddy he feels. As he drives home, he mentally goes over what he’ll need to get for the meal he wants to make. Truly, it was the best fake date ever; he might, he thinks, even consider posting the story of it to the r/relationships thread like one of the Craigslist messages asked, because it’s so wonderfully peculiar.

“Right on time!” says Steve with a grin when Diana knocks on his door that evening for their date.

His smile falls when he notices her face, tired and serious, despite how light it had been only hours ago.

“Steve, I have to go,” she says without preamble.

“What?”

“I’m flying back to the Netherlands tonight.” What? That can’t be right; she’s not due back for several months, and even that’s only a trip. Steve’s brain lags a second and then realizes she’s still talking, dark eyes all apologies. “—straight to the airport from here, actually. I just came by to say goodbye. It seemed like the sort of thing that should be done in person.”

“But what—”

“You know who Patrick Morgan is, yes?”

Of course he knows who Patrick Morgan is; he’s a war criminal who was only caught and extradited recently. It made waves when jurisdiction was given over to the ICC, at least among the relevant international communities.

“The war criminal?” he asks, just to confirm.

Diana nods. “That’s the one. Look, I’m not really meant to be talking about my cases, but I’m on the prosecutorial team and his lawyers are good. They’re trying to file a pre-trial motion that would—well, let’s just say it would be bad if the judge ruled in their favor. We’re scrambling and I’m needed back at the office, in person.”

“Shit.” There’s nothing else to say, really. She’s the one who can make sure Patrick Morgan doesn’t hurt anyone else, and that’s that.

“It’s awful timing,” whispers Diana, and there’s true regret in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. You’re doing what has to be done.”

“I wish it didn’t,” says Diana. “I wanted to—I don’t know, go on a proper date and go to your friends’ New Year’s party with you, and this has just—it’s mucked it all up, hasn’t it?”

“An understatement,” says Steve, laughing wetly. Maybe—

“I have to call the ARGUS Foundation from the car, get everything squared away in regards to my commitments there. Gods, this is such a nightmare.” Diana’s pacing now, and Steve can see all their possibilities slipping away, now that she’s returning to the Netherlands. It’s not the most important thing, this casualty of what could have been, but it still breaks a little piece of Steve’s heart all the same.

“I wish we had more time,” says Steve, a little bittersweet, because there’s not much else to say. Diana sends him a sad smile and nods.

“I really have to go. I might even miss my flight as it is.”

“Right, of course.”

She looks at him hesitantly for a moment, like she’s going to say something more, and then pulls him into a hug. As she pulls back, she kisses him softly. It feels like goodbye more than any words could.

Then her phone rings, and she looks at him apologetically one more time, a quick, “I’m sorry,” before taking her leave and answering it. He hears her frustrated Dutch echoing down the hall as she walks away.

After she leaves, he feels a little aimless, and a little numb. It doesn’t quite sink in that Diana is gone, but he does think, absently, that something bad was bound to happen, because nothing catastrophic happened over the holidays—no real fights, no disastrous weather; it all went too smoothly.

The next few days are a slog: he’s back in the office, technically, but everything has slowed down substantially in between the holidays, just enough to not really keep him occupied.

It scares him a little how much he misses Diana. They were sort-of friends before the fake-dating charade, more friendly-coworkers than anything, but he got used to her being a part of his daily life absurdly quickly and is having a hard time adjusting back. They could have been something spectacular, he knows, if circumstances hadn’t made it impossible.

She texts him when she lands, and he’s glad to know she’s made it safely, but it ignites a fresh wave of ache such that he’s almost glad she doesn’t answer his text back, or text again. He ends up ignoring his phone, mostly, trying to distract himself from thinking about what wasn’t meant to be. (It’s bad luck with fate: if they’d had more time, if they were something real, he might consider moving, but it’s too soon, too early, even if he thinks he might already love her.)

On New Year’s Eve, he spends most of the day cooking, Netflix on in the background, whiling away time before the party Etta and Adrienne are throwing.

“Where’s Diana?” asks Etta, when she opens the door and finds Steve there, alone, carrying three tiers of Tupperware and a bottle of champagne, because of course she does. All his friends adore Diana too.

“She had to fly back to the Netherlands for a case,” says Steve morosely, unable to say anymore because he might choke up, and crying is fine but not during a New Year’s Eve party.

“Oh, what a shame she’ll miss New Year’s! When is she coming back?”

The fresh, stricken look on Steve’s face tells Etta everything she needs to know. “Oh, luv, I’m so sorry. I know long distance isn’t easy.”

It’s the perfect excuse presenting itself, really. In a month, Steve can say that the distance was too much, and Etta will understand, and that will be that. He’ll be out of this lie, too, with no one the wiser that it started as a fake thing. But right now, Steve is still mourning the fact that it never got to be anything real in the first place.

“It is what it is,” says Steve, trying for a smile.

“Well,” says Etta, also going for something resembling cheery. “We’ve got plenty of alcohol and a place for you to crash tonight, if you want it.”

“Thanks, Etta.”

He whiles away the night nursing a glass of wine and floating amongst friends and acquaintances, trying to enjoy the merriment. Etta, bless her, must spread the word that Diana had to leave for work, because only Noor asks after her, right after he gets inside. After that, he doesn’t have to answer any further questions, and instead focuses on the laughter and brightness radiating from his friends.

At a few minutes to midnight, he slips off to a quiet corner, not quite ready to face the rowdy, kissing couples.

Somewhere behind him, the apartment door slams, and there’s something of a commotion, but he doesn’t bother to investigate until—

“Did I make it in time?” asks a breathless voice.

Steve turns, and there, standing in front of him, a vision in a bright red coat, is Diana.

“But how—?” She’s meant to be in Europe, but she’s very much not. She’s here.

She’s here.

“We finished a little early and I got the first flight out. I took a cab from the airport to get here as fast as I could.”

“You hate cabs,” says Steve helplessly, fixating on something that’s very much not the point because it’s one of the many strange things they talked about, and because it’s somehow easier to focus on than any other part of it.

“I wanted to be here.” Her eyes are twinkling, and Steve can’t quite believe she’s here, on New Year’s Eve, and—shit.

“But what about the case?”

“We got the motion thrown out,” she exclaims, delight lacing her words. “We’re proceeding as scheduled. I’ll have to go back for a bit starting in May, but—”

That phrasing catches Steve’s attention. “Wait, you’re not moving back to the Netherlands permanently?”

“What?” asks Diana, looking genuinely perplexed. “No! It was just a business trip, inconveniently timed. I was never moving back. Did you think—”

“I thought—” says Steve, at the exact same time.

There’s a look of recognition on Diana’s face, as if she’s doing the maths, going back over the conversations they had once more in her head. She bites her lip, shakes her head. Laughs.

“We are both a bit stupid, I think,” she says. “I was never going to be gone more than a week or two, but I suppose I didn’t make that clear enough. I thought it was just bad timing, since we were starting something, but you—”

Steve shakes his head, incredulous. “I thought I might never see you again, but you’re really here.”

Diana reaches out and ever so softly touches his cheek. “Yes. So, did I miss the countdown?”

Steve stops fighting the smile that’s building. “Nope. And you know, they say whatever you’re doing at midnight you’ll be doing for the rest of the year.”

“Do they? You’d best choose wisely, then.”

“I’ve got an idea.” The countdown hasn’t started yet, but he leans in slowly anyways, because he figures they’ve wasted enough time. She meets his lips eagerly, and in the background, Steve can hear Etta’s whoop of excitement, but really, the only thing that matters is Diana, and the feel of her lips underneath his.

It’s just as earth-shaking as it was the first few times, but they break apart momentarily as the countdown actually begins from the other room. When midnight hits, they kiss again, a little shorter this time, their smiles too wide to make it a proper kiss.

“Happy New Year, Steve,” whispers Diana, forehead pressed to his.

“Happy New Year,” he echoes. An endless plurality of shifting possibilities stretch before them, elastic and hopeful, and very real once more. From the other room, the chords of a piano start, a telltale sign that Charlie has started his traditional rendition of Auld Lang Syne.

“You know, eventually people are going to realize our anniversary isn’t in July.”

That elicits another giddy laugh, because somehow, he’s gotten lucky enough that this is his reality. “Yeah, but that’s a pretty good problem to have, all things considered. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“No,” says Diana thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t either.”

***

#misha-winchester #wondertrevsecretsanta #wondertrevsecretsanta2020 #wondertrev #diana prince #steve trevor #userpine

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geminimoonbeamx · 4 years

Text

Moon lit Serenades

A/N: Dedicated to the reader, may you find happiness. I am so nervous for TROS, I saw a rumor that Poe dies and lost it. That plus the fact that there is literally no Plus Sized ReaderxPoe community? I had to remedy that. This is porn.

Warnings: This is porn. Serious smut from pretty much start to finish. Please enjoy.

Summary: Poe seeks comfort after a particularly hard mission in the only way he knows how. A Poe x Plus Sized Reader story

I am a moth, who just wants to share your light.

I’m just an insect, trying to get out of the night.

I only stick with you, because there are no other’s.

You we’re all I need.

I’m in the middle of your picture.

Lying in the reeds- Radiohead

War had finally caught up with Poe Dameron.

Had finally taken it’s toll, and far more then it’s chunk of flesh. Battle wary and blaster shocked, it was hard to think of the resistance these days as just that- a resistance. No, this was more of a bloodbath.

War.

He’d never thought of it like that before, always held his head high, a defiant flame in his eyes. This was fuck the system- fuck the First Order. Fuck anyone who tried to tell him what to do. He was willed, motivated by the sheer rage that anyone would have to live their life in oppression. Under the thumb of Snoke or Phasma, dead and gone now- Hux and Ren hopefully to follow sooner rather than later.

And that fire to see them fall was still there...but it was dimmed.

Had been stomped on, choked out.

Watching people you love die for you, because of you on a daily basis...it wasnt something he’d wish upon anyone. Friends, family. Allies, brothers and sisters in arms. His fleet which had once flourished with dozens of pilot’s was down to a mere handful of lucky ones.

He was willing to breathe and bleed for the cause. It was in his blood- the sticky substance that matted his dark hair to his head as he climbed out of his X-wing. His parents had been the same.

Was he willing to keep watching others die for it though?

He couldn't stop form pondering the question as he and his unit arrive back to the makeshift base, in the middle of nowhere on a planet in the outer rim- the name of it he could barely pronounce. The shabby hut like quarters made the memory of D’quar and its green covered everything throb longingly in his gut.

That seemed so long ago, now.

No matter. No time for getting attached. They’d be on the move again within a fortnight, never staying any one place longer than a month at a time. Rey usually kept them one step ahead, connected to Ren through the force in a way that made Poe’s stomach churn, but that came in handy with them not getting caught.

Thinking about Kylo Ren always made him sour from the inside out. Muscles clenched in memory of the torture he’d endured at the hands of what used to be Leia’s son, but was now just a shell with his dead fathers nose and the mark of his dead uncles betrayal on his black soul.

Poe would kill him in an instant if he got the chance. He prays to fuck that one day he does.

Clenching his fingers into fists is painful right now- the small mission had gone awry and they’d had to punch their way out of it. Literally. He’s feeling the aftermath of it all over, aching and sore.

He doesn't have it in him to attend the debrief. Can't muster the will, not right now. Maybe after a hot shower, maybe after he gets some food in his stomach and allot’s himself a moment to wallow. He forces himself to stand straight, spine elongated in a way that has his bones and muscle screaming.

Poe tries not to limp, as he scurries away to lick his wounds. He fails.

“Poe, you need to see a medic!” Finn insists, somewhere behind him. Always worried, always caring. Poe has nightmares about the night that he eventually loses him, too.

“Don't worry, I will” Finn wonders how someone who looks like they’re going to keel over at any moment- can manage to sound so cheeky.

Rey, who stands beside Finn, bruised bleeding herself wonders if he realizes that Poe is on the verge of tears. The pilot rippling and vibrating so hard she could feel it, taste it on the air.

Neither of them say anything though. The just watch him disappear into the stormy, starless night.

----

Sleep isn't something that comes easy to you as of late.

Not only did you spend your days(and most hours of your nights, too) in the Med Bay, you had never been the kind of person that could handle big changes, sharp adjustments. This hop forts every couple of weeks trend was killing you.

Your mind couldn't relax, R.E.M. State was always just out of reach.

Especially when he was gone...which also seems to be a trend these days. The missions just kept getting longer and longer- the time that he was on base shorter and farther between.

But it was raining tonight- the soft rhythmic pitter patter of it on the roof of the hut reminding you of your home planet, you could almost pretend you were there; the smell of petrichor tricking your brain. Making it easier to curl up on the bed that was really more of a cot and cozy into the Resistance standard blanket.

For the first time in two weeks- you sleep. Hard. Like a rock. The exhaustion finally overtaking your body, and putting you out of commission. General Organa was right to send you back to your bunk, physically removing you from your post.

You feel kind of, extremely, guilty for the attitude you’d thrown at her -

“I’m fine, if I don't do my job, who’s going to?”-

aimed her way even though she didn't deserve it. She was right, of course. She tended to be most of the time. Why anyone ever doubted her, why you ever doubted her, you didn't know.

The sleep is dreamless, just the way you prefer it...you hadn't always, but nothing was better then the nightmares. Nothing is far from peace, but close to quiet. A middle ground that could be called purgatory, depending how you looked at it.

So when there's a knock at your door, the wooden one that gave you more privacy then you’d had in months, that wakes you from your much needed slumber, you can't help but feel the irritation surge through you. Your hypothetical feathers bristled as you huff and puff and pull yourself out of bed, yanking a pair of breezy sleep pants up your chubby legs and a robe over your shoulders- not wanting to answer whoever it was in the near nude.

When you pull open the door- well, it was the one person who wouldn't have minded if you had greeted him in your panties.

“Poe?” You question, because your eyes still haven't adjusted, your mind still three fourths asleep and one fourth confused.

“Yeah, it’s me, sweetheart” And oh? Sweetheart? In that gravelly voice, tired and worn and fragile...you're instantly aware of what kind of state he’s in.

When you pull him inside, flipping on the light orb, and are able to see him. Clearly now; all bloody and bruised, you inhale sharply. His eye is blackened on the same side of his face that seems to be saturated in crusted crimson.

“Stars, Poe” You whisper as you crowd him, urging him to sit on the cot that’s still warm from your body heat. Poe frowns, pretty lips pulled down as he takes it, and you in. Your hair rumpled, your robe falling off your shoulder as you gather medical supplies from what seems like all over your small “room”

The first thing you do is take out a small capsule full of neon blue liquid from a jar and hand it to him. He takes it gratefully, tossing it down the hatch before you can even offer him water. Painkillers aren't the easiest to come by since they’ve been on the move.

“I woke you up, didn't I?” He inquires, after he swallows.

“Obviously” You answer as you step back into his orbit, close enough that he can smell your skin. That his eyes can trace each of the freckles that dot across your nose, your cheeks. You put your finger under his chin and tilt his head up, and fuck, isn't that a pretty view?

“I’m sorry” He whispers, hissing between his teeth as you, gently but deftly, begin to clean his head.

“Mmm, it’s fine. I’m awake now, Kriff Poe, you look like warmed over shit. This gash in your hairline is going to need stitches” You’re focused, wiping and dabbing as you speak.

He didn't realize, until that moment, just how much he missed your voice.

“Your bedside manner is spectacular as ever” He grins as he says it, even though it hurts to do so. His busted lip is next on your itinerary.

“Well when you show up at my bedside and not the other way around, I’m pretty sure that changes up the rules”

“Didn't you miss me...at your bedside, that is?” He pushes on, he wants you soft and sweet for him but he knows from experience it takes a bit to get there. Especially since he’s been gone so long.

“Stop distracting me” You mutter. You're only half pretending to be completely focused on the task at hand, at this point you could probably stitch a wound with your eyes closed.

“M’sorry” He’s not. It’s selfish, but he really isn't. He’s not sorry for barging in on you and waking you up, or for sitting in your bed reeking of blood and days worth of dirt. How can he be, when this feels so good? Your soft little hands working at him, healing with every touch. There’s no hurt when he’s around you- only good.

The painkiller makes the edges fuzzy, makes the fact that your repeatedly pulling a needle through his skin seem mild. It’s not like it’s his first time getting sewn up, and he highly doubts it’ll be his last.

Poe can't stop staring at you, dark eyes hooded. Hungry in a way that he doesn't care to hide. Drinking you in, gulping. It’d been almost a month and he was dying to get his fill. Your round body, nothing but curves and dips that he was itching to touch, is mostly covered, but the robe is still hanging off your shoulder. Satin skin exposed, so pretty and pristine.

It’s almost out of his control when his hand skims up our arm, skin seeking out skin. His palm sears as it settles on your upper arm. The plush flesh so soft under his calloused hands that he’s almost worried that it would give if e pressed down too hard.

In the back of his mind he knows better, though. Recalls just how much you can take.

“Poe” You warn tightly, lashes fluttering as you shoot him a look. One that makes him chuckle, because you're not fooling him.

He’ll play, mostly because he wants to, but he knows you missed him as much as he missed you.

You wonder if he can feel the way that you're trembling, already shaking for him. It’s stupid, you feel stupid, and yet you cant stop it. You have healers hands, medic’s hands- and at least you can get them to stay still as you finish with his head, then his lip.

Going insane from the simplest touch, from the way that he rubs his thumb in circles over and over on your upper arm. You remember when that would have made you uncomfortable, big arms that you wanted covered at all times used to be a big no-no.

But with Poe it was different. He wasn't there to judge. He just wanted to feel.

You don't want to pull away, but you have to. Your brain is torn, but ultimately resorts back to it’s resting state: health driven. Medically inclined.

“You need to go take a shower, wash the rest of the blood out of your hair. The hot water will help to start to bring down the swelling” you instruct, and it would be how you talked to any patient. Except for the way you cradle the side of his face, your voice breathy as you touch is thick locks that are greasy. A bit tangled.

Poe nods, he knows your right. Knows he should have done that before he even came here…

“Can I come back?” It’s hopeful, he spits it quick- desperate.

It feels like someone yanked, hard, on a loose thread inside your chest.

“Always. You know that”

While he showers, forced to go a few huts over to the community bathrooms, you’re a flurry of anxious thoughts and movement. Tidying up the small space and yourself the best you can. You’d showered earlier in the evening, using the last of the last of the Obsidian Lily oil that you’d carried with you. You still smelled good, pretty.

Your hair was wild, but not untamable and you end up brushing it smooth. You hadn't shaved since before he had left and curse yourself for not doing so earlier. How were you supposed to know that he was coming back tonight? Growing up on your home planet, there was a moss based soap that everyone used that minimized body hair. But still…

You wished, like you had more than once, that you could be better for him.

You're trying to swallow that horrid ugly little thought back down when your door opens, Poe not bothering to knock this time. Barges in, and he seems a bit more like himself in that moment.

His hair has gone back to his natural curls, thick and bouncing, dripping and the navy, loose materialed sleep clothes hang on him. Dont cling to him with dirt and sweat...all and all, he looks so much better.

Or so you think. Until you see him in the right light, his top falling open and revealing his chest.

“Poe!” You exclaim and his thick brows furrow, he had been drying his hair with one of your spare towels.

“What?”

“Take off your shirt” You demand and one side of his lips pull up- a smirk that doesn't meet his eyes.

“You know if you ask me nicely, sweetheart, I’ll give you whatever you want” It’s a purr, a ploy. Many a person- male, female and Wookiee had fallen for that charm of his. Your own name thrown in that pot.

But he was hurt, had to be in pain, and that thought cut through the others that that coy tone had stirred up.

“I’m serious, that bruising looks deep- why didn't you show me this earlier? You could have internal bleeding! Something could be broken”

Poe would never let it be known, would deny it to the ends of the galaxy...but he loves the way you fret over him. It makes him feel warm.

“Okay- Okay!” He sighs as you start to reach for him demandingly, knowing that you'd pull it off yourself if he didn't. There's a handful of winces as he tugs the fabric up and over his shoulders. You’re silent the whole time, and then for a long moment after.

“Oh...baby”

It’s the first time you've called him that tonight. In weeks. The first time an affectionate name has slipped from your mouth.

You can't help it, can't help the overwhelming feeling of...horror. Of shock and worry. His tanned chest and abdomen are hard, dusted with ebony hair that matches that of which grows from his scalp...and covered in bruises.

Four huge patches of yellow, and black and purple and blue...he looks like a fucking water color painting. You’d seen him in some pretty bad states over the years, and this was up there with some of the worst. The worst? Well you didn't like to think about that particular bloody day.

You reach out, fingertips tracing the purple bloom on his left ribs.

“It’s not so bad” And that’s Poe in a nutshell. Always trying to convince not only the people around him, but himself, that things were going to be okay.

“That one’s a deep tissue bruise” You point out to him, fingers gently probing, trying to detect if anything is broken “It has to hurt like a bitch, it’s going to get worse before it feels better”

“Not so bad” He loves the way you're touching him, and his hand, that big paw, goes to our waist. Holding you. Urging you to keep going “Those painkillers are something else”

You snort through your nose. He’s something else- you tell him of that fact, often.

Poe can only be so patient, can only allow you to touch him, feather light, for so long. Eventually, his impulses win out. Just like the always do.

You’re almost done, checking his bones, when he grabs your hand, envelopes it in his large one. It’s still for a moment- the air sparkling with energy. His eyes are mahogany, dark wood. Deep forests as they stare down at you.

The want in them is raw, unbridled.

“I missed you, so fucking much. Every day. Have I told you that yet?” His words, mixed with the timbre- vehement. Honest. It makes you want to squirm.

“No- you haven't” You wish your voice at that moment wasn't so anxious, weak and almost a whisper. Something about Poe had always brought this out in you. He was so bright, beaming. Everyone around him flocked to him, in hopes of just being able to taste a fraction of his light.

Sometimes, you still couldn't believe that he let you fill your cup, that he sought you out, parted the crowd for you.

You had never been a weak woman; had never let your weight or your too loud opinions or your tendencies to be overly emotional make you feel small, or less then...but being with Poe-- the level of intimacy was suffocating.

You felt burned up. Icarus who flew too close to the sun, who willing allowed himself to be burned up just to feel its warmth for a moment...you could relate.

“I did” Poe continues “I missed the way you feel, the way you taste-”

You close your eyes at that, images of the last time you’d gotten a moment alone with him, of a head of dark curls between your legs, assaulting you. Smacking you right in the face.

“-You taste so good, Y/N. Should've bent you over when you came to say goodbye. You would've let me, huh? Let me get one more taste- you have no idea how bad I want to stick my tongue inside of you. All the time. No one else gets to taste, right?”

Poe is well on his way to being rock hard, already. It had taken all of him to not jerk off in the showers.

“No one, Poe. You know that” you’d meant to tell him to fuck off, that you didn't belong to him. That he couldn't just have you whenever he wanted you. That came out instead.

“I need you” He tells you, roughly “feel how bad I need you, Y/N, fuck” he still has your hand in his grasp, againts his chest. When he begins to slide it downward, you know where its destination will be.

That doesn't stop the thrill, the flip flop of our tummy that comes with Poe pressing your hand to his crotch, hard and hot. The thin pants the only layer between your palm and his erection.

“You’re the only one who gets me like this, I need you to make it better, Y/N”

The switch is flipped then. Hard.

You’re surging forward, and he's meeting you halfway, your mouths slotting together. Lips and tongue, so much tongue. He talks all about how you taste, but stars, the way he tastes is intoxicating. Want to suck the taste of him off his tongue, off his cock.

Its blurry and ferocious. Hands everywhere. Touching, grabbing. While you are gentle with him and his tattered body, he doesn't extend that same sentiment. He’s groping, fingertips bidding into flesh. Groaning into your mouth as he clutches your thick, dimpled thighs. Reaches around to squeeze our ample ass.

Best ass in the galaxy, he'd write fucking sonnets about it, if he was good at anything but flying.

Clothes are shed, way too fast you worn Poe who doesn't listen. Because he never does- and he ends up hissing in pain, and relenting, sitting on the cot and letting you take off his pants. Slowly. You make it up to him by standing over him, grabbing his hands and guiding them to strip you. Slow drags of fabric over supple skin.

You’re so fucking sexy, and he tells you so as he urges you into his lap, you stay on your shins to mind his middle. Poe worships with his words. His fingers and lips do their fair share of praying next.

“Fuck I missed these the most” your breasts are large, heavy globes. Puffy sweet nipples are pebbled and just begging to be sucked on. He licks them messy, wet before he does just that; sucks them into the hot cavern of his mouth.

“Oh, oh, ugh” Your hands are twined in his hair, dripping down onto his thighs already, when Poe feels the wetness drip on him, his fingers go searching, hand pressed in between your thighs. Fingers slipping through sopping, heated flesh. You grasp, a high sound as he presses up and circles your clit, firm and pointed.

It’s so good, pleasure shoots down your legs, all the way to the tips of your toes.

It’s not enough. For either of you.

“Poe, fuck. Please” He’s injured, and you know it hurts him to do, and you should scold him for it, but when he manhandles you, flips you easily onto your back to that he can climb on top and situates himself between your thighs-

It’s just as hot as it always is. You know you have to be dripping down onto the cot, can feel your slick covering your thighs, slipping down your crack.

Kiss, Kiss and Kiss and Kiss and Kiss and…

You get lost in it, caught up in the way his stubble burns. His fingers slide back inside you and he watches your face as he crooks them, pumps them fast. Finger fucks you until you’re sobbing, letting out animal sounds.

“Do you still have the implant” he pants, head swimming. He gets like this when you let him make you feel good- wants to go down on you, but wants to be inside you even more.

“No, I took it out in the last few weeks” You’re cheeky, even with his fingers burried inside you. He loves that about you, “Of course I do, Poe”

You’d be damned before you ever brought a child into this world.

Poe holds your thighs wide, staring between them, your pussy wet and clenching around nothing. You’re so vulnerable for him, it makes you dizzy. He lines himself up, clock head dipping into your slit, resting against your hole, when thrusts inside of you it’s in one fluid movement.

You mewl, so full it’s hard to breathe and Poe makes a punched out sound. Like he’d been shot by a blaster in the chest and his hips start undulating, needing to be deeper. It feels so right inside of you. Feels safe. He wants to tear into your softness, rip you open and nestle inside. Settle himself in your bones.

You let him take what he needs, how ever he needs it. On your back, on your hands and knees. You bounce on his cock when he gets to achy,letting him run his hands all over your tummy, sides, breasts.

He can have it all.

After, the two of you lay spent, cuddled tight to one and other in the small cot. Standard issue thrown over your naked bodies, the sound of the rain starting up again mixed with Poes breathing is a lullaby you hadn't known you needed.

This...thing between you might have started as a way for both of you to numb the pain. To seek support. But it was more now. You were so in love with him that it made your eyes sting if you thought about it for too long.

“You’ll always come back to me, right?” Its so, so timid that he almost doesn't catch it and you almost hope he’d miss it.

Poe does what he always does; tries to convince you both that it’s going to be okay.

“Always”

You let yourself believe him.

Well I wasn't expecting this to turn into pure porn, but here we are lmfao. I loved writing for Poe and there will definitely be more of him coming soon! If you are able- listening to All I Need by Radiohead and the Hot Like Fire cover by the XX really sets the tone for this. I actually dropped a line from hot like fire in this- who can point it out?lol

As usual, I'm going to ask that if you can please give me some feedback. I truly love interacting with my readers and would love to hear your thoughts and opinions.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x plus size reader #poe dameron smut #poe dameron x reader #star wars #oscar issac

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anoutlandishfanfic · 4 years

Text

Metamorphosis Chapter 25: In the Womb of the Earth.

*waves at all y’all collectively* I CAME BACK LIKE I SAID I WOULD!!!

So, I started this chapter way back in November/December (read: after the previous chapter posted) and then everything fell apart. My health took a nosedive (I’m having surgery day after tomorrow) and I was literally focused on getting thru the day and surviving work and my brain couldn’t function on the level I needed it to to write this chapter. Things have gotten a little better (soon to be a LOT better) and I managed to crank this one out!

Special thanks to @thefraserwitch for the constant stream of texts that inspired a whole heckuva lot and to @diversemediums for being the confirming POST IT voice that I seem to always need in my life. Y’all rock.

BUT ANYWAY HERES THE DEETS

The Premise: What if Claire had conceived on her wedding night to Jamie?

You can find the previous chapter here (Part One / Part Two) if you need to catch up (I wouldn’t blame you). You can also find the master list of the whole fic here on Tumblr or its also current on AO3.

___________________________________________

February 20th, 1744; The Abbey, Scotland.

“I’m fine,” I glared at Jamie and pointed to our chamber’s door for good measure, insisting, “Go.”

He made no move to do so, his auburn brows bunched together in concern instead as he observed, “Ye’re lookin’ a bit green aboot the gills, Sassenach.”

“I’m just tired,” I hedged.

It certainly wasn’t a lie.

We’d sail with the next morning’s tide and the knowledge had everyone on edge. No one had slept well the night before, nor had anyone high hopes of the day passing quickly. Time seemed to stretch on forever now that the end was in sight and my husband’s nervous presence — though well intended — was becoming insufferable.

“Can I help ye back into bed, a’ least?” he offered. “Do ye think you could sleep a wee bit?”

I contemplated this, then turned my gaze to my usual chair by the fire. It was a worn out sort — overstuffed to the point that it made reclining bliss — with a low footstool to accommodate my swollen ankles.

Did I want to lay down completely… or just sit a while?

A wave of bone-aching fatigue washed over me, but my brain rattled off all the things that still needed to be done before we left.

How many more linens would Brother Erastus let me turn into nappies?

Brother Nathaniel said he’d see to the food stores for the journey, but I wanted to inspect them yet today… so I’d have time to repack should I need to.

Come to that, were our things packed?

I winced, knowing I’d think of a dozen more things my weary mind had forgotten once I got started.

Maybe I would just sit a bit.

A decidedly Scottish noise broke into my thoughts as a warm hand slipped around mine, gently leading me towards the edge of the bed.

I opened my mouth to protest but stopped as he eased me onto the soft mattress, swinging my feet up and helping me roll onto my left side. I grabbed for all the available pillows — gleefully seizing Jamie’s — and was soon completely ensconced.

Bloody hell, this feels amazing.

I heard a rumble of laughter from above me and lifted my face for a kiss, Jamie happily obliging.

“Sleep well, my hen,” he crooned, his thumb gently stroking my cheek as his lips hovered just above mine.

I realized that I really must look something like a mother hen tucked up in her nest and a slow smile spread across my face as I kissed him again.

“I willna be gone long,” he assured me a moment later when we came up for air. “Jus’ to see Murtagh about the carriage, aye?”

“Take your time… I’m not going anywhere.”

…

Jerking awake to the sound of the door bouncing off the wall, I caught a rather undignified squeal of alarm just before it left my lips as I was yanked from a deep, numbing sleep and thrust unceremoniously into the land of the living.

I lifted my head from the pillow and discovered I was no longer alone in the room, but now in the middle of a veritable bear pit. Loud, male declarations of Herself’s safe arrival and that there’d been nae trouble aboot the matter at all only muddied the waters as I blinked groggily, hastily looking for my husband amid the array of kilts and breeks.

“Aye, place it there,” came his voice, followed by a muffled thud as they did so, and I dropped my head back down onto the pillow.

He was here. He obviously had things — whatever the hell they may be — well in hand. If I were needed, he certainly knew where to find me.

My hand slid up between the sheets and I lifted it to my face, rubbing my heavy eyes as I tried to place what on earth they could be talking about. Why they couldn’t use proper nouns in this godforsaken country like any other civilized people was beyond me.

The movement accomplished nothing except to wake the rest of my body up, settling a dull, pulsating throb in the depths of my skull and my hip to aching with such a veracity that I could have sworn my fall in the Theive’s Hole had been yesterday, not four months ago.

“Jamie?” I called and the room fell instantly silent as they all quite suddenly remembered my presence.

My voice had sounded pitiful, even to my own ears, but I didn’t care. I needed him to explain what the hell was going on and get the rest of these men out of my room… and he’d better do it quick.

“Och, I’m sorry to be wakin’ ye, lass!” Willie’s voice was the first to profess from somewhere at the back of the crowd, “Tis only tha’ we thought ye’d be wantin’ to ken wha—“

But Jamie immediately pushed through the throng and succinctly cut him off, his face drawn with concern as he nearly threw himself onto the floor at the side of the bed. I reached for him and he bent over me, kissing my brow softly as he apologized profusely, “Christ, I’m sorry, lass!”

My abject confusion over the situation must have been evident, for he continued on without letting me speak.

“Lady Drummohr sends you her good wishes, mo nighean donn… She says she hopes she’ll see you at dinner but understands if you dinna feel up to it… Says she remembers bein’ this far wi’ her own bairns an’ wouldna blame ye if he didna leave yer chamber this evenin’... I’ll give her your thanks, aye?”

I shook my head, dismissing both the notion that I was so feeble that couldn't leave my room and the cancellation of the opportunity to see a real, bonafide mother in the flesh for the first time since arriving at the abbey ten weeks ago.

“What is that?” I scowled vaguely in Murtagh’s direction, where a good sized trunk lay at the man’s feet. He stood beside Jamie with the barest hint of a smile beneath his heavy beard and I knew something was up.

I may have a name to go with the who but I still hadn’t the foggiest idea of the what.

“Aye, tis from the Lady,” Jamie continued, his face brightening with excitement. “She said she didna ken how much you were able to take awa’ with you, so she brought some things you may be needin’ for yourself an’ the bairns.”

“Oh, Jamie…”

All of the air left my lungs in a mighty whoosh as everything came rushing back to me.

We would, indeed, be sailing to France, but first we would have to successfully make it aboard the ship.

There were at least half a dozen of His Majesty’s finest dragoons stationed in the village just outside the abbey and positioned at strategic points between here and the harbor. We would need to fool every single one of them… and Dougal had found a perfect cover for us in one Lady Margaret Grant of Drummohr. Hailing from Dalkeith, a good three days' ride away, she would not be recognized as anything other than a traveling woman of good repute.

I could then take her place with a nom de guerre of my choosing, with Jamie and Murtagh trading places with two of her footmen, and we’d safely ride to the harbor in our luxurious borrowed carriage. Should we be stopped leaving the abbey — and heaven forbid we would — I could explain in my blatantly British accent that I was sailing for Le Havre where I would be meeting my merchant marine husband.

But I hadn’t counted on Lady Margaret being generous above and beyond her arrangement with Dougal.

My free hand lifted to my lips, my fingers trembling as Jamie undid the latch and opened the trunk. He lifted out a small quilt and placed it on the coverlet before me, then froze as he spotted the fragile contents below.

“Oh God, Claire,” Jamie wheezed, immobile at the sight of four tiny baby gowns.

I reached out blindly through sudden tears, needing to touch the garments — to touch him — and was rewarded with both. His arms wrapped around me again, his head dipping into the curve of my neck as the tips of my fingers reverently traced the swirls of thistles and leaves around the neck of one gown.

“I don’t... I didn’t have any clothes for them,” I swallowed hard, trying to tramp down the feeling of complete and utter inadequacy, “Jamie, I barely have nappies for them to shit it, how the hell am I supposed to be a mother to them?!”

His head lifted and his blue eyes — so completely calm, damn him — focused on mine, one corner of his mouth lifting in a slight smile as he assured, “We’ll manage it, mo nighean donn… There’s the both of us, aye? I’ll no’ be lettin’ ye fall.”

I kissed him then, pulling him closer in desperate urgency. His lips met mine and anchored me to him, holding me fast as I tried to make sense of the storm building around me.

“I’ve got you,” he crooned, pressing my head against his chest when we came up for air.

I concentrated on the sound of his pulse, the rhythm of his heartbeat against my cheek, and slowly felt clarity return to me.

“What else is in there?” I sniffed.

His arms loosened around me and he peered over the edge of the trunk a moment.

“More wee things for the bairns… but I think this one’s for you, Sassenach.”

With this he let go, retrieving a bodice and woolen skirt dyed a deep navy blue from the depths of the wooden chest.

“Well, it certainly wouldn’t fit you,” I grinned and took it from him.

He grunted good naturedly at my jest and obediently bent his head for a closer look when I shoved the bodice back into his lap, cheering with delight.

“Oh, aye,” he nodded appreciatively, yet his voice held that hollow tone of disproportionate earnest. “Tha’ll do verra nicely for you, Sassenach.”

I rose one brow at him, “You have no idea why I’m excited about it, do you?”

“Aye, well… tis a new frock, isn’t it? An’ a bonnie one a’ that,” his grin turned sheepish as he confessed.

I lunged for him, meaning to poke him between the ribs, but he caught my hands well in time and I laughed.

“The boning, the lacing of it,” I nodded towards the bodice, “It’s made for mothers!”

“Oh, aye?” his brows shot up at this and he dropped my hands in order to take a second, proper look.

I began to examine the waistband of the matching skirt as he did so and very much liked what I found.

“So’s this,” I continued. “I can wear it now and continue to after they’re here.”

He handed it back with a greater appreciation, his gaze growing wistful, “Did Jenny’s gowns have such things?”

I nodded, fighting back my gut-wrenching yearning for Jamie’s elder sister. It was always there, brooding under the surface as I contemplated our life to come. I didn’t have much of anything in the way of worldly goods, but what I did have, I’d gladly give to have her with us.

“We may be leaving Scotland at dawn,” I whispered hoarsely, then swallowed hard in order to continue, “but I know we’ll be back… I just know it. You children will see their birthright. I promise you.”

He leaned forward and kissed me softly, the promise of his body, of his protection and undying love echoing my own.

Leaning back after a moment with a sigh, his gaze fell on the tiny baby gowns and his eyes took on a light of complete wonder.

“I havena held a bairn in a verra long time,” his voice was deeper than usual, husky with longing to take his own children into his arms. “I ken they’ll be wee… but, a dhia, Sorcha, I forgot just how much so.”

I draped the gowns over the swell of our children and brought his hand to the place where one insisted on causing a disturbance within me.

Nodding, I pressed hard against them, urging them to respond to us, “But they’re strong.”

“Aye,” he brought his lips to mine as his children proved my point emphatically, “Just like their mother.”

…

Later That Evening

Dinner had been delightful, though we’d still excused ourselves as soon as was appropriate, citing our early departure.

But in truth, I had only one destination in mind.

The hot spring.

I shut the door of our chamber behind us with a grin and leaned against it, insisting abruptly, “Take off your clothes.”

Jamie started visibly then burst out laughing as he sat down hard upon the bed.

“Oh, aye?” He rose a brow when he could finally speak, his shoulders still shaking, “Is tha’ how it’s goin’ to be?”

Heat rose to my cheeks as I shook my head in mock derision, reaching over to the nearly empty chest of drawers and withdrawing two homespun robes of a deep chestnut hue. I tossed one to him and his amusement turned to curiosity.

“I want to show you something,” I blurted, not wanting to give away the surprise and yet needing to get him out of the room somehow.

Both brows rose nearly to his hairline as he looked at me skeptically.

“An’ I must wear this?”

I undid the lacing of my new bodice, commenting, “We both are.”

“Ye’re delirious, Sassenach,” Jamie shook his head. “Ye canna be tellin’ me ye mean to wander about in nothin’ but that?”

“Well,” my blush rose considerably and I wished he’d just put on the damn thing and be done with it already, “it covers more than you’d think… and I stick to the shadows.”

“Ye’ve done this before?!”

The incredulity of the idea had him back on his feet in an instant, a fire burning bright in his eyes.

“I have,” my chin rose defiantly, “and I plan on doing it one last time before we go.”

A slow grin spread across his face, the indignation in his eyes melting into unfettered requirement.

“With me?”

“Of course with you,” I snorted, shoving his robe against his chest. “Just put the bloody thing on, will you?”

He did so immediately, then helped me in turn, all the while his grin permanently splitting his face in two.

“Good,” I appraised him, adjusting the belt around my waist more securely.

“Shall we go, then?”

Jamie rose a brow at this and opened the door, bowing low over his hand as he gestured into the deep shadows of the hall.

Slipping my hand into the crook of his arm, we made our way wordlessly along the dark passageways. We turned this way and that, the slope of the floor slowly dipping as we got closer. Finally reaching the door to the passageway, I opened it and sighed with relief as I found the sconces already lit.

We continued on for some time and eventually had to walk single file as the tunnel narrowed.

“Are ye sure ye ken where we’re goin’?” Jamie asked skeptically from behind me, his frown evident in the darkness.

I suppressed a laugh and brushed the tips of my fingers along the solid rock wall, “Well, there’s no chance of us taking a wrong turn, now is there?”

The tunnel was dimly lit and full of twists and turns, but held no offshoots or forks of any sort. It simply led to our destination, which was the only reason the brothers let me travel to and fro unattended. There was absolutely no chance of me getting lost underground as I traversed completely naked beneath my borrowed robe.

Brother Jeremiah had introduced me to the abbey’s restorative hot springs during the long weeks of Jamie’s recovery. I could slip away and find relief for a few hours as Murtagh watched over our beloved charge. The warm buoyancy of the water relieved the pressure of the lives within me, rewinding time to give my body back to me. The quiet solitude soothed my frazzled nerves and slowly healed the mental and emotional wounds inflicted by the horrible ordeal we had all just gone through.

The heat of the spring wafted towards us quite suddenly and a shiver of excitement ran up my spine, raising gooseflesh in its wake.

“We’re almost there,” I assured him unnecessarily.

The light of the cavern was discernible before us — bless the brothers for preparing it for us — and Jamie now could see it for himself. We continued on a few paces more and then we stood in the midst of the gaping cavern. Sconces were positioned here and there between us and the shore, attempting to illuminate the void, but great gaps of darkness stood beyond and it was clear that the space was a good deal larger than either of us could imagine.

I let out a sigh of absolute delight, so relieved to finally be here, and asked, “Do you like it?”

Jamie didn’t answer but looked around with his mouth agape. I knew the feeling fell, but my eagerness to be within the pool had me disrobing before my poor husband knew what was happening. I had one foot in when his voice stopped me.

“Christ, Sassenach,” he burst in delight, “‘tis a hot spring!”

I laughed and continued my descent down the carved stone steps.

“Oh, you do. Good,” I grinned and reached the bottom. “Do come in, then.”

Jamie shed his robe, but kept a firm hold of his skepticism, asking from the top of the stairs, “How hot is it? Should ye be bathin’ in it in yer condition, Sassenach?”

I shook my head, my curls splaying this way and that on the surface of the water, and I rolled my eyes.

If he only knew how bloody amazing it feels in here.

The muscles of my lower back had immediately relaxed upon contact with the water, my hips loosened and my breathing eased. They seemed to like it too, for they tumbled with delight at the first and then settled into a blissful slumber. I could walk slowly about, stretching my long limbs without the strain of gravity. Or I sometimes lay my arms on the stone ledge of the shore, resting my head atop them as I let my legs float out from beneath me… levitating weightless in the water.

“It gets hotter the further out you go,” I assured him, gesturing vaguely into the darkness. “I stay over here in the shallows and I’m just fine… it's like a splendid bath that never grows cold.”

He continued in, the water slowly swallowing him up as he joined me. The awe was back in his eyes, now seeing and feeling for himself what a splendid thing this was. He wiggled his toes in the clean, black sand at the bottom of the pool, sending pulsating currents over my own. The surface looked deceptively still, but there were small currents here and there if you knew where to find them… the pulse of the living, breathing spring.

Jamie turned to grin at me in the darkness, his teeth flashing white in the sconces’ flickering light.

“Christ, Sassenach,” he repeated and shook his head, completely at a loss.

I laughed, “You approve, then?”

“Oh, aye,” he insisted, looking ‘round excitedly. “I do, indeed.”

Jamie bounced on his toes slightly as he squinted out into the darkness.

“How far does it go?”

“I’m not sure,” I shrugged. “It got too hot for me.”

He nodded with an adorable sense of determination and I knew he was out to explore this oasis I had just introduced him to. He started to move away but I touched his arm, stopping him for a moment.

“Be careful, alright?”

His face melted and he leaned back in for a kiss, nudging my nose with his, “Aye, I’ll keep an eye for any wee beasties.”

“Any big ones too.”

“Mmm,” he kissed me again, “I think we’re quite safe, m ’ionmhas. Though, tis a shame we left our pet selkie behind, hmm?”

I laughed and shoved him away, letting him explore to his heart’s content. I could hear him splash this way and that, muttering to himself, but was surprised when he returned shortly after he left.

“Nothing out there?”

He snorted, “Entirely too much that I canna see… and you’re right, tis a good deal hotter out there.”

His skin was delightfully warm as I slipped my arms around his neck with a sigh. Resting my cheek against his chest, I let my feet float out beneath me. He towed me slowly around the edge of the pool, the water rippling over my legs and abdomen feeling remarkably like his caressing hands. I became warmer and more aroused by the moment, the tips of my sensitive breasts brushed against his chest and set off fireworks deep within me.

He found the man-made niche cut into the wall that I liked to frequent and sat on the wooden bench, pulling me to sit sideways on his lap. I knew there was plenty of room for both of us on it and pushed him backwards as I moved to straddle him. The eager glow in his eyes set me afire as I settled myself more comfortably, treasuring him for a moment before guiding him home. The accompanying inrush of hot water surprised me for a brief moment, but I soon found it incredibly exhilarating and settled myself with a sigh of pleasure.

“Oh, I like that one,” he purred.

I blinked at him stupidly and asked, “Like what?”

“That sound you made,” he explained, the delight evident in his eyes, “the wee squeak.”

I didn’t think it was possible to blush — I knew my skin was already flushed to the point of beet red — and I found myself dropping my gaze, hoping my hair would fall in my face and hide my embarrassment.

“I’m sorry… I didn��t mean to be noisy.”

Jamie tipped my chin up, brushing the curls from my brow as he insisted gently, “I said I like it.”

I nodded, not entirely sure what to say to that and found I didn’t have to, for he continued.

“And I do… ‘tis one of the things I like best about bedding you, Sassenach,” he grinned, “the small noises that you make.”

He cradled my head in his hands, kissing me with an urgency that made me forget myself once more, and shifted his hips just so beneath me. I half stifled a gasp and he commented softly, “Aye, like that.”

“That's what I thought most about,” Jamie murmured, his hands slowly caressing my back, curving around to cup my breasts, to frame the swell of our children.

“In prison, at night… chained in a room with dozens of other men, listening to the snoring and farting and groaning. I thought of those small, tender sounds that you make when I love you… and I could feel you there next to me in the dark, breathing soft and then faster, and the little grunt that you give when I first take you, as though you were settling yourself to your job.”

My breathing was certainly coming faster now, my head light. Had it not been for my rather firm hold of him down below the surface, I was sure I would have floated far away into oblivion.

“Even better,” his lips brushed against my neck, sending a shiver of delight up and down my spine, “when I come to you fierce and wanting... and ye wimper under me and struggle as though you’re struggling to get away, and I know ‘tis only that you’re struggling to come closer... and I’m fighting the same fight.”

His hands sank to my hips, slipping between us to caress the stretched and yearning point of our joining. I quivered and my breath went from me in an unwilled gasp.

“Or when I come to you needing… and you take me into you with a sigh and that quiet hum like a hive of bees in the sun,” a sweet smile played at his lips, “and ye carry me into peace with a little moaning sound.”

“Jamie,” I hoarsely whispered, my need nearly strangling me. “Jamie, please.”

He kissed me soundly as his hands settled around my waist, slowing me until I groaned around his lips.

“Not yet. We’ve time, mo chridhe,” he calmly answered. “I mean to hear ye groan like that again… to moan and sob, though ye dinna wish to, for ye canna help it… I mean to make you sigh as though your heart would break and scream with the wanting... and at last to cry out in my arms… and I shall know I’ve served you well.”

With that, my release overtook me, shooting like a dart into the depths of my belly. It loosened my joints so that my arms slipped limp off his shoulders, Jamie’s steadying hands all that kept me from drowning.

Resting my head against his chest, I felt boneless as a jellyfish. I didn’t know — or care — what sort of noises I’d been making, but felt incapable of coherent speech.

That is, until he began to move again... strong as a shark under the water.

“Oh God, no,” I protested. “Jamie, no. I can’t bear it like that again.”

The blood was still pounding in my fingertips and his movement inside me was an exquisite torture.

“You can… for I love you,” his lips brushed against my neck. “And you will, for I want you… but, dinna fash, for this time I go with you.”

Bloody hell, you’re coming with me, I vowed.

I lifted my hands to his chest and splayed my fingers wide, still trembling as I pressed my palms against his slippery skin. Sliding my hands up, I took hold of his shoulders and shoved him the couple inches backwards into the stone wall of the niche with all the strength I could muster.

Jamie’s eyes flew open in surprise and the arousal I found there was the second wind I needed.

His brows rose suggestively and I sat back — settling myself to my business, as he had so eloquently stated before. His hands settled at my waist, curving round to clenching my buttocks tightly as I rode him towards oblivion.

A low groan rumbled within him and I cupped one hand beneath his head, pulling back up to me by the scruff of his neck. I was rewarded with a Christ, Claire and kissed him hard as I sank even deeper. It wouldn’t — couldn’t — be long now for either of us and with that knowledge, I tossed restraint to the wind.

“You are mine,” I repeated, the final vowel twisting into a cry of pure ecstacy.

I heard his own cry and I knew I had served him well.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #Metamorphosis AU #chapter 26 #in the womb of the earth

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