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hoebii · 3 years

Text

Found

Pairing : Jimin x Taehyung [(MXM) Mentioned but TaeTae isn’t in the fic itself]

Genre : Yandere!Au, Angst

Rating : 18+

Warning : Obsessive behaviour (dude wants Jimin all to themselves), Implied violence, mentions of potentially murdering someone, dude’s basically a yandere and he has a knife plus he broke into their dorm oop-

Wc : 1469

A/N : Well this was supposed to be a crack fic but then my brain said ‘no’ so here we are :D Thank you @jinings for reading this and giving me pointers ily best girl~ As always, hope you guys like this one and if you have any req/promt/idea that you might want me to see try out, send ‘em my way <3

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When Jimin had awoken to an empty dorm, he hadn’t thought much of it. What could go wrong? Jimin was an adult, plus it’s not like this was the first time he stayed somewhere alone - and this was their dorm, it was bound to be one of the safest places to be - he had thought. Then why oh why was he currently hiding in the bathroom from a damn maniac?

Jimin had spent the day playing games and catching up with any work he had pending. At the end of the day he finally got up to get himself some food when he heard the sound of glass shattering. His breathing hitched, he had texted the boys before and they were supposed to be back tomorrow, so who was in their dorm?

Jimin set his bowl of food down and slowly crept towards the noise. He peeked inside the living room to see a silhouette moving around, the window behind him broken. His eyes widened, heart beating erratically as he stepped back quietly to not alert the intruder. How did they even get through the main gates?!

Jimin watched in shock as the intruder moved around the room, as if looking for something but not touching any of the expensive gadgets lying around. Jimin’s brows furrowed at their unusual behaviour, if they didn’t want any of those then why break in? A gasp escaped when he saw the intruder pull out a dagger from under their jacket, the blade glinting under the light.

The intruder whipped around at the sound, making Jimin whimper in fear. The intruder had a cloth tie around their mouth as a mask so Jimin could only see their bloodshot eyes. A shiver ran down Jimin’s spine as he got a good look at their eyes, rabid dogs had less menace in their eyes. Jimin could feel the insanity that lied beneath and it was nerve wracking to hold eye contact with them.

“Jimin-ah! So good to see that girl was right! Did you enjoy your free day?” The intruder spoke animatedly, their eyes sparkling with delight.

Jimin concluded it was a man for how deep and gravely their voice sounded, it reminded him of Taehyung. Oh what he would give to be wrapped in Taehyung’s arms right now, safe and sound. Jimin stepped back as the intruder took a step forward, their eyes narrowing in disapproval at the action. The intruder raised one hand to untie the cloth from around their face. Scanning their face, a small part of Jimin couldn’t help but notice how good looking the man was regardless of the situation.

“Why are you moving away Jimin-ah?” The man asked, “Don’t be afraid, I’m your biggest fan! I love you so much.”

“H-how did you get past the security?” Jimin stuttered out, still moving backwards as the unknown man got closer.

“It was easy really!” The man started, voice almost childlike, “I told them I was here to repair your A/C units, can you believe how easily they let me in when I said Bang P.D sent me?” they asked while twirling the knife around as if it was a mere toy.

It felt as if someone had dumped ice cold water on Jimin, the severity of the situation finally settling in. This wasn’t a dream, some crazy fan somehow managed to get in their dorm. Tears sprung up to his eyes, he was alone with a crazy person with no one to call for help, what was he going to do?

Seeing the tears in Jimin’s eyes, the intruder furrowed their brows, head tilting curiously, “Are you not happy to see me baby? I came all the way here so we could finally be together!”

Shaking his head, Jimin took another step backwards, “What do you want from me?”

The man frowned, eyes darkening and tone turning serious, “You don’t seem happy to see me, Jimin-ah. Why is that?”

Jimin gulped at their words, He didn’t want to agitate the man but he didn’t want to be anywhere near them either. “O-of course I’m happy to see you! I’m so t-thankful you’re here..” Jimin started, his words turning into whimpers by the end.

Clearly happy with his answer, the man smiled brightly, though their tone remained low as they spoke, “If you love me, why are you dating Taehyung then?”

Jimin’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of his boyfriend, they had decided to announce their relationship after being together for three years. ARMY’s reactions were mixed, that was to be expected, but thankfully the majority supported the two. So hearing this unknown man say his name with such a crazed look and each syllable dripping with hatred, Jimin felt sick.

At the lack of any reply, the man’s eyes hardened, lips tugging into a scowl as their grip on the knife got stronger, “You don’t really love me, do you? You wouldn’t go running to that fucker if you did.”

Jimin’s brain was screaming at him to say something, to assure the man he was wrong even if it were a lie to save himself, but he couldn’t make any noise. He only stared at the man, tears freely running down his cheeks as he remained stuck in his place.

“That’s alright! That’s why I’m here to be honest~ I thought if I,” The man said, pointing towards their chest with the knife, “can’t have you then no one can! I’ll make sure it’s painless, Jimin-ah. After I’m done, I’ll keep your heart in a jar just for me. Your heart belongs to me after all.”

Breath quickening, Jimin shook his head, crying harder. The man had started to advance towards Jimin, knife held securely in their hand. Just as the man was about to strike, Jimin pushed the man away and ran to find a place to hide. He could hear the man scream in anger behind him, calling after him but Jimin picked up his pace and raced to the second floor. Running into the bathroom at the end of the hall and shutting the door quietly to not give away his position before hurriedly locking the door. He scrambled away from the door and tried to make himself as small as possible when he heard the man’s footstep outside.

“You can’t hide from me forever, Jimin-ah! You belong to me. I’ll get you in the end no matter what~” Jimin heard the man call out from the hallway. He clamped his sweaty hands over his mouth to stop himself from making any sound, body shaking in fear and tears falling non-stop.

“Silly me! Why don’t I just call your phone? I noticed your phone wasn’t in the living room so it has to be on you right? Why did I not think about this before?”

Jimin’s eyes widened at that, the man was right. He could feel his phone in his pocket and he almost cried in relief when he remembered that it was switched off so calling him wouldn’t get him caught. Why didn’t he remember this before?! He could’ve called the police earlier!

Hands shaking, he brought his phone out from his pocket, almost dropping it from how much he was shaking. How did this man manage to get so much information on him in the first place?

“Tsk tsk tsk, you didn’t pick up Jimin-ah. Maybe you don’t have your phone with you… How do you reckon I find you now?” The man called out.

Jimin ignored the words, too busy trying to turn his phone on but with how much his hands were shaking, the task turned out to be more difficult than it should have been. Growing frustrated and more desperate, he pressed the power button to turn on the screen and much to his relief the screen lit up. The relief was short lived though, for as soon as the screen lit up, due to Jimin still holding down the power button Siri had been activated.

“What can I do for you?” rang out Siri’s automated voice in the bathroom, echoing in the small space. Jimin paled at the sound, eyes widening and breath hitching. He could hear footsteps rushing towards the door as he sat there staring at his phone in horror.

He slowly raised his head to stare at the door, terrified out of his mind as the door began shaking. The man was trying to break down the door and Jimin knew it wouldn’t take long before they would be able to kick down the door, it wasn't very strong to begin with.

Mind shutting down in fear, Jimin remained frozen, eyes unblinking as the door was slammed open and the man stood there, grinning maniacally as they looked down at him.

“Found you.”

#thebtswritersclub #bts jimin #pjm #yandere!au #bts fic #bts angst #pjm angst #park jimin #bts park jimin

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johannadc · 4 years

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Thank you for tagging me @vulpesmellifera ! I’m honored although I feel like a fraud doing this, given my fic writing career of all of six months, but when someone stumbles across this in the future, we can have a good laugh. Or, as I learned from Remington Steele, “years from now, when you talk about this, and you will, be kind.”

Ao3 Name: trillian_jdc (Out of some sense of wanting a vague anonymity. snerk. That worked well.)

Fandoms: Sherlock, specifically Mystrade, although I got there through Good Omens

Number of fics: 16

1. Fic you spent the most time on: The one I’m writing now, which will be a sequel to Every Dog Has His Day. I am learning a lot as I go, so I actually do rewrite passes now. And struggle more with endings. Or properly, where to end.

2. Fic you spent the least time on: To Die Hard For. I wrote it while the Mystrade Reading Club watched the movie, so it’s about Greg and Mycroft not watching the movie. (They found other things to do.)

3. Longest Fic: Every Dog Has His Day at over 7000 words. They get longer the more I do this and remember to put in things like description. I love dialogue, and I am not naturally a visual thinker, which means I’m great at having characters talk to each other, but I kind of assume readers already know where they are and what they’re wearing.

As a series, though, Mystrade Cocktails is going to surpass that. The three entries right now total over 6000 words together, and there will be at least two more stories. (I know what they’re drinking the morning after, when that time finally comes. So to speak.)

4. Shortest Fic: To Die Hard For. (I wrote more than two things, I promise, but they keep coming up as answers to this quiz.)

5. Most hits: The Soulmate Search. My first fic, it was part of an event, so well-promoted, and I think a number of fan friends were being kind in checking it out and encouraging me to continue. There have been two sequels so far (with potentially another to come), so those drive people back to the first as well, I suspect.

6. Most kudos: Same.

7. Most comment threads: Every Dog Has His Day. Who can resist Greg as a pooch? Cuddly and fun to speculate on what breeds the other characters might be. Also my first substantial chaptered fic, which likely drove discussion. (Well, my first that I actually posted the rest of the chapters for. Going Viral, you are not forgotten.)

8. Fave Fic you wrote: I have great fun with building themes around the drinks in the Cocktails series, and I think I managed to capture shy but determined Mycroft being wooed by Greg in that one ... and I loved the imagery of Mycroft sweeping Greg onto the dance floor in Friends in Odd Places (where I also learned one image does not a story make) ... but my personal favorite so far is Through the Looking Glass, and What Greg Found There, because it sums up so much of what I like about that pairing, and I adore the image of Mycroft as an eight-year-old.

9. Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: This question should more be fics I want to finish! I have too much WIP, but I am committed to continuing / completing them.

10. Share a bit of your WIP or share a story idea that you’re planning:

Oh, there are way too many plot bunnies hopping around my notes file.

My personal challenge is writing light entertainment, since I try, and it comes out angst-y, even though that isn’t my fave to read at all. But the other day I had a super-angst-y idea that I’m toying with for Halloween, in which Mycroft, once Sherlock and John marry, is forgotten by more and more people until he simply fades away. Rosie still notices him, but she’s too young for anyone to pay attention to, and Greg is the only one who feels the tug of something missing.

I’m hoping I could manage comedy in the idea of Mycroft discovering fanfic, then becoming an internet avenger and eviscerating bad commenters and trolls and the like.

Another silly one I want to do is based on a photoset, in which Greg is a former male model who got out of the business and became an agent, and Mycroft is a magazine editor who sees one of his old pictures and falls hard. I used to work for a periodical publisher so I think I could manage this fairly well.

And I’ve partially written one that started out as naughty, with Mycroft sleeping his way across London, and turned instead into a warning and meditation on when affection really means something.

But WIP gets done first!

Thanks to anyone who read this far for a rather self-indulgent wallow. Vulpes already tagged many of the same people I would... so leaving aside those on that list, I will add @jessieblackwood and @wastingyourgum and @eventhorizon451, if they want to play. Or anyone else who’s interested! I love seeing people talk about their work.

#fanfic survey

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captainchrisfics · 5 years

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Paps Meet Politics

About: While working on A Starting Point, Chris takes a liking to a particular Congresswoman. Amidst speculation that he’s dating his co-star, she tries not to think too much of it when he asks her to be his plus one to a gala, but a probing reporter clears the air in the end.

Word Count: 6,650

Requested By: @spilledinkindumpster - Thank you for your patience and sending this idea my way, I hope you enjoy!

P.S. This fic is also known as the soliloquy of cevans’s eyebrows- Will they be raised in surprise? Dropped in disappointment? Cockeyed with confusion? The drama!

“Thank you for the interview,” Chris said so genuinely it made me feel as if I’d done a whole lot more than sit there and talk about my job. It was easy, I could go on about being a Congresswoman forever with an eager light in my eyes and passion pouring out of my voice. Ever since I was young, when my father was first elected and we got to take the train to D.C. from our home in Brooklyn to visit him on weekends, I wanted to be sat in the same maroon chair behind my own mahogany desk, doing my best to represent and support my community he’d fostered such a deep appreciation for in me. Little did I know Chris Evans of all people would be sitting on the other side someday.

He reached out to shake my hand, grinning a perfect smile that seemed to be made for the camera. “You’re doing great work here. I’d love to talk about it more sometime,” Chris said with an honest tone that surpassed politeness by a mile. He all but seeped a sincerity I’d come to find was rather rare in this city.

In actuality, our conversation drifted from my policies about combating climate change to how disgraceful it was that I was a Yankees fan and what brand of squeaky toys he buys his dog since mine manages to tear through everything. Sure, there’d be a hell of a lot of b-roll, but I think we both needed the break. To talk to another person as a person, letting the conversation flow naturally without having to stay on task all the time and genuinely listening to each other, wasn’t something it seemed we got to do often enough. You could tell by the enthusiastic way we gushed over salads at only the mention of breaking for lunch that we’d had enough of the grind, at least for an hour or two.

He squeezed my hand tight one more time before letting go. “We’re having a small gala for some of A Starting Point’s supporters to raise a little money for the project. I’d really like you to come, if you’re available?” Chris looked up through his dark eyelashes with a sort of puppy enthusiasm in his eyes.

“I’d love to, but I’ve got a lot of meetings and everything...” I bit my lip as I thought about it a little more, trying to come up with anything to stop the corners of his mouth from turning down any further. “You know what? Why don’t you have your people talk to my people, you know how it goes,” I said sarcastically, driving it home with a roll of my eyes.

Chris chuckled, swiping his thumb across his bottom lip. “You don’t know how many of your colleagues actually mean it when they say things like that. Let’s keep it old-fashioned,” he said, tugging his phone out of his pocket to exchange numbers. I laughed and said that he shouldn’t be so sure as I handed him mine and punched my name into a new contact.

“Well,” Chris said as he slipped the device back into his pocket without breaking eye contact. He rolled up his button-up’s sleeves to his elbows, resting a hand lazily on his waist, as if he wasn’t straining the clasps around his chest enough for it to make my knees weak. He was about to say something else, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t waiting with bated breath, before the producer rushed over to hurry him on to the next office for another interview. We’d spent so long talking he was behind schedule.

Chris sighed, his chest caving like a deflated balloon with the release of a breath I didn’t realize he’d bottled up, picking his suit jacket off the back of his chair. “I certainly hope we’ll see each other again soon,” he said with a small smile of apology, the kind that crinkled his eyes closed in the slightest.

“Me too,” I confessed, tucking my hair behind my ears nervously. Chris stood there for a beat or two, looking conflicted as he stood partially turned to the door, but not making any moves. I shifted my weight from my toes to my heels, feeling nervous under his scrutiny.

He turned to leave, stretching to scratch the back of his neck as he took a few steps before whipping around again, sending the coat in his arms flying. “You, uh, you really mean that?” he asked, shoving a hand in his pocket.

I nodded, a little taken aback by his question. My eyes searched for some sort of answer in his slumped shoulders, raised brows, and the way his eye was half-winking almost in a wince. It was a sharp contrast to his behavior during our banter earlier, like someone sucked the air out of our atmosphere. Chris didn’t elaborate anymore, though. He only nodded back at me like a bobble-headed reflection, taking slow steps out of my office and then, as he picked up speed all at once, he was gone. I fell back into my chair, chest caving as everything left me in a heavy sigh.

One of the interns entered before the door had even finished swinging shut, clutching salads to her chest as if her life depended on it. With a slack jaw and popped-out eyes, she said all too breathlessly, “That was Chris Evans.”

She passed me my lunch with a shaking hand. “That was awkward,” I shot back with a little bit of a laugh. “I think he asked for my number… for personal purposes?” I admitted, trying to make sense of the whole thing. Although the words felt wrong on my lips and silly to my ears, I wasn’t sure what I was meant to feel in the first place.

The intern took a seat opposite of me, cracking open her own lunch container. “Did you give it to him?” she inquired hesitantly, like she was trying to put her own puzzle together. I confirmed her theory with a shake of my head, but the hum she responded with made me question it.

“I’d hate to rain on your parade, honest, but I’m pretty sure he’s dating his co-star from that new Netflix movie?” she said, giving me a minute to chew it over while she took a bite of her lunch. “I mean,” she started again, her mouth still full, “obviously no one really knows for sure. It’s just speculation, but…” She shrugged, giving me an apologetic look.

I waved her off, insisting it was probably for the better anyway. Still, I couldn’t help the way my stomach sank with disappointment. I tossed my lunch to my desk, my appetite suddenly gone.

Next to the abandoned container, my phone buzzed. I picked it up curiously, not really expecting a text from anyone in particular. Next to the green bubble, the notification only read Chris, not that I needed much more of an indication as to who that was. I opened it to see he’d taken a picture for his contact, a bad one from a low angle with his tongue stuck out and crossed eyes.

Hope you’re enjoying lunch. I was thinking about checking that place out on break- What do you recommend?

I smiled as I typed out my usual order. Chris responded immediately, even though I knew he was supposed to be working, telling me that he thought I had good taste.

We texted like that for a week, on and off throughout the day and then almost incessantly at night. About some of the stupidest things, like arguing over whether Dunkin or Starbucks was better with statistics to back us up. Other times Chris would ask what the best part of today was and usually it would be something like reading a really kind email from a constituent, but once I honestly told Chris just hearing from him had made my day. It was easy to talk to him without having to look at those crystal clear blue eyes, feeling like he could see straight into my soul. I spilled it all anyway, feeling the familiar flutter of butterflies in my stomach like I was back in middle school passing notes to a crush.

Chris didn’t seem to have any qualms about telling me anything either. In fact, even the small things, like if he had a particularly good jog with Dodger that morning, I’d hear about it. It was a refreshing change of pace from the way we’d left things in person, returning to the comfortable ease we’d felt sitting across from each other, only this time it was on the other side of a screen.

At the same time, no matter where I went, I couldn’t escape the rumors about Chris and his co-star. Every magazine headline as I checked out at the grocery store, every paparazzi photo when I channel surfed past E! News, even every clickbait article title on Snapchat’s discover page. All of it being a constant reminder that the warm feelings that came to a boil every time my phone buzzed with a new message from the man himself. Some heart-eyed emoji-filled message to a picture of my dinner I’d sent or an update on the book he’d been reading that was so detailed I’d never have to check it out myself. Something that made me fall a little harder and reminded me of how painful it’d be once my bubble bursts simultaneously.

I felt incredibly guilty, continuing to talk to someone else’s partner when I knew I was developing feelings I couldn’t suppress forever, but it was nice to have a friend that wasn’t all the way back home in Brooklyn.

It’d been just over a week since I’d properly seen Chris in person. I knew he was lurking around Congress somewhere, interviewing as many of my colleagues as he could and making every connection possible, but I didn’t get out of my office very often. In fact, it was usually in between committees that I’d see him running down the hall to catch up with someone before their next meeting. Something inside of me, call it my fight or flight response or good old cowardice, always pulled my feet to take me out of his sight, ducking into a bathroom or behind another corridor’s wall. My heart would race until his voice, asking when he could squeeze into someone’s calendar for only half an hour or if they’d be more comfortable chatting over coffee before jumping in front of the camera, faded as he walked away.

I wasn’t sure exactly why, but seeing Chris in person made me debilitatingly nervous in a way that messaging him never did. It was easy, the manageable way my stomach flip-flopped when the three little dots indicated he was texting me. But when he looked at me, like really looked at me like he was listening to the lilt in my voice as well as the twitching tick in the corner of my eye? Forgetting what I was saying when he scratched his beard contemplatively or loosened his tie? That made me feel like I was about to toss up my last meal.

At least I thought I was safe within the walls of my own office, but it wasn’t a sanctuary for long. One day, right before lunch, Chris sent me a very odd text. My eyes were downcast, reading over a bill for the second time and trying to highlight the parts I wanted to edit when my phone buzzed. With my break nearing and my brain growing too fuzzy to make much sense of the convoluted document, I caved into the distraction.

Not to be a creep, but green’s definitely your color.

My gaze drifted even further down to the pine-colored pantsuit I’d picked for the day, feeling that tingle in my spine that only watching-eyes could bring. My eyes shot up, searching and failing to find Chris anywhere in my office. Then I caught the twinkle of his mischievous blue eye behind the crack in my door.

“Should’ve seen your face,” he laughed with a wide grin that made his crow’s feet more pronounced as my tense muscles relaxed. I rolled my eyes, but my smile gave me away as I swore I’d get him back when he least expected it.

“How’d you know I was even available?” I spluttered, caught totally off guard by his presence. My words were muffled by the marker cap stuck between my teeth, but it didn’t bother Chris who sauntered over to the seat across from me like he owned the place, his plaid blue suit hugging his hips immaculately. He took off his jacket and hung it over his seat as if he’d done in a million times before, revealing a starched white shirt with buttons that strained when he took a seat.

“We talk for this hour every day, figured it was when you scheduled lunch,” Chris retorted with a shrug, taking his tie off and undoing his shirt by a couple buttons to make himself comfortable. “So I brought you something better to chew on than that highlighter.” He dropped a bag from the restaurant I recommended the first time we met onto my desk in between us.

It dropped from my lips as I ogled I the bag and then Chris again before lunging for it, distributing our meals, drinks, and silverware. Anything to distract myself from the way his forearms flexed as he rolled up his sleeves and placate the burning blush of my cheeks.

We were halfway through lunch, too busy stuffing our faces to talk very much, when I finally broke the silence. My curiosity was eating away at me like it was on break too. “What’s got you in my neck of the woods anyway?”

Chris dropped his salad to the table as he chewed, silently holding a pointer finger up to ask for a minute as he fished around his coat pocket. Letting out a satisfied hum as he found whatever he was looking for, he pulled a white envelope in between his fingers. Chris stretched across the desk toward me and I held my breath as he reached behind my head so I wouldn’t drown in his intoxicating smell, an impossible mix of fresh air and lavish cologne. I averted my eyes to the ceiling, trying to save Chris some modesty by not gawking down his open shirt while he tugged a pen out of my bun. I only caught a glimpse of the course, dark hair smattered across his chest, accentuating the soft curves of his pronounced muscle, but it certainly made me sweat like a sinner in church. It seemed to last an excruciatingly lustful eternity before he leaned back.

My hair sagged, partially held up by the utensil resting lazily in his hand as he scribbled along the front of the envelope. The tip of his tongue peeked out of the corner of Chris’s mouth when he focused and his eyebrows dropped dangerously low as they furrowed.

“There are pens right in front of you,” I pointed out, trying to make sense of what just happened. Chris only shrugged and changed the subject.

“Sorry, I almost forgot,” he said, shoving the pen that’d been in my hair with the others. “I wanted to hand-deliver this to you.” Chris slid the envelope to my side of the desk. He’d written my name in his chicken scratch’s best excuse for cursive, but other than that it was rather plain.

“What’s this?” I asked, giving Chris a cautioned look. He slouched back in his seat, balancing his salad on his knee while shrugging and looking down at his food, pushing cherry tomatoes around his cucumbers as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

“If I told you, wouldn’t that defeat the whole purpose?” he countered, staring up at me through his long, dark lashes. I only nodded since I didn’t trust my voice too much not to break when he looked at me like that. Like he was the one who was nervous, as if I was the one in dangerously close proximity.

I reached to take the only other thing holding my haphazard bun together, my letter opener, which unraveled my hair completely. As it fell across my shoulders, Chris took a sharp intake of breath, shifting in his seat suspiciously. I eyed him with curiosity as I opened the envelope before focusing on its contents.

“It’s next weekend. I’m sorry it’s last minute, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all week now. You’re an awfully hard person to pin down,” Chris explained as I delicately unfolded my invitation to his gala. “Your receptionist, we’ve gotten to know each other well. She always says you’re in a meeting or a little too busy to be bothered, but… if’m honest, I can’t help feeling a little avoided.”

My gaze lifted to him, seeing how his broad shoulders folded inward like he was about to collapse into an anxious origami of his former self. His hands wrung in his lap and I realized he must’ve been highly strung after all.

“Nothing like that,” I lied in a soft voice, trying to catch him before he crash-landed. Well, it was partially true. I mean, I was steering clear of Chris, but not for any of the reasons it seemed he suspected. My receptionist, being one of my closest friends in this city, knew the nature of my feelings for Chris and probably decided it’d be in my best interest to put some distance between us. “It’s just been really hectic around here lately. I’ll make up for it at the gala, promise.” I tried to smile encouragingly.

It seemed to connect with Chris as his own stretched across his cheeks. “In that case, well, I was-” Chris stopped to clear his throat, head tilted as if he was trying to put himself together with an internal pep talk. “I was hoping maybe, if you want to, you’d be my plus one?”

My fork clattered to the tabletop as I stuttered with shock. I felt like a machine missing a piece, something small like a gear, something that made my place in this not make very much sense. I mean, I wasn’t his girlfriend, shouldn’t he be asking her? It seemed too good to be true, Chris offering to tote around such a public event, in front of the other members of Congress nonetheless, with me on his arm. Matching his tie to my dress, posing for pictures together, walking me to my door with my heels in his hand and his coat around my shoulders after a long night. It just couldn’t be what he meant.

“Only, uh, again it’s only if you want to. Really, I don’t want you to feel any obligation,” Chris started to backtrack, running an anxious hand through his slicked-back hair. “I mean, if you haven’t got other plans already, of course, I thought it might be- I don’t know. Could be fun, is what I’m trying to say.” He started talking with his hands, waving them frantically and nearly knocking my pens over. Chris huffed as he straightened their jar, eyebrows raised as he retracted his hands back to his lap.

“I think it would be too,” I admitted, chewing my bottom lip. Despite my better judgment, I told Chris I’d go. After all, he made it clear it wasn’t a date based on his fevered reaction, trying to clarify his offer to make sure I didn’t misunderstand his intentions. Plus, a night with Chris did really seem like it’d be a nice break from the stressors of my weekdays and the dullness of my days off, especially considering I wanted to make the most of his time here before he had to jet back to L.A. At least for one night, I could indulge in playing a guilty game of pretend.

“That’s just…” Chris sighed, a relieved smile gracing his lips as he collapsed back into his chair. He closed his eyes, allowing a little bit of peace to wash over him with the worst of this conversation being over. “Great. That’s great, thank you. I’ll pick you up at 8,” he said, although it came out more like a question. “God, let’s hope I’ll be better at asking people for money than that,” Chris joked as he laughed through a sigh.

“And if not,” I said, raising my bottle of iced tea for Chris to cheers, “that’s why you have me.” Chris smiled in thanks as his drink met mine with a gentle tap, a quiet pause ensuing our swig.

“That’s not all you’re good for,” Chris commented, his head tilted as he looked at me. He maintained a crooked grin as he eyed me from across the desk. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was a look of admiration.

“You’re right,” I confirmed before taking another bite. ‘Oh, really?’ Chris challenged silently with a raise of his eyebrows. “Mhm,” I mumbled. “I can also stuff enough little appetizers wrapped in napkins to feed a militia into my purse in case the main course sucks.”

That earned a laugh from Chris, the kind that stemmed from the bottom of his belly and nearly caused him to choke on his lunch. His hand rose to the left of his chest as he threw his head back, absolutely relishing in it to the point where it was infectious. I wasn’t even the one who thought it was funny, but I couldn’t help grinning so big it made my cheeks hurt. A part of me I tried to shove down the thought that I could get used to hearing that laugh, the pride pulling it out of Chris brought.

I wished I could’ve bottled up that feeling, the utter confidence I felt in that moment, and taken a shot of it while I waited for Chris that night. Probably would’ve burned less than the liquid courage I’d tried to emulate it. I looked myself over in the hall mirror for the hundredth time as I waited, trying to do anything other than count the seconds he was late by.

I wore a long tulle dress with one shoulder and a ribbon cinching the smallest part of my waist. It was a shade of green a bit lighter than the suit Chris liked on me and, considering we were going as nothing more than friends, I tried to push the thought of whether or not he’d like this better far out of my mind. Tried, being the operative word.

I stood there, examining myself in the mirror with a cocked head, when a knock out of nowhere startled me. I ran my hand through my hair quickly, trying to break up the curls so it didn’t look I’d tried as hard as I did, before answering the door. “Hi,” I breathed the word, looking Chris up and down. He wore a simple black and white tux with a bowtie, something I wouldn’t have pegged for, but it was a pleasant surprise.

“You’re…” Chris’s eyes roamed my body from head to toe, taking me in as he held his arms out wide like he was standing before some great sight like the grand canyon instead of me, standing awkwardly and over-dressed for my living room. His cheeks puffed out as his eyes grew wide, meeting my gaze with a wide smile. “Gorgeous,” he concluded, saying it like the word wasn’t enough. Smiling like it wasn’t wide enough. “Tell me again how I got lucky enough to even stand in your shadow?” Chris asked jokingly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

I rolled my eyes and stepped out to meet him, closing the door behind me. “Don’t kid yourself, Evans. You’re not one to talk in that suit,” I returned the compliment, hoping it was dark enough that he couldn’t see the firetruck shade of red it felt like my whole face turned in a furious blush.

Chris extended a hand to me, offering to lead me down the steps to his car. I took it, eyes cast down partially to watch my step in these heels, but also because I don’t think I could bear to look him in the eye while I was thinking such unsavory things about the way the jacket hugged his bicep, how perfectly the slim-fitting pants were tailored to his thighs…

“No way,” Chris dismissed my compliment, pulling me from my thoughts. “I look like a penguin.” We reached his car and he held open the passenger door for me, but I hesitated to get in. Instead, I just stared at him with my jaw hovering maybe an inch or two from the asphalt.

“Well, then, I guess it’s a good thing they’re my favorite animal,” I said as I composed myself, gathering my skirt before sliding into the front seat. Chris shut the door, but leaned against the open window instead of walking to his side.

“With the way you’re looking at me, there’s a joke in there about some beastiality implications,” he quipped, his tongue-in-cheek humor coupled with the callout catching me completely off guard. I gaped at him for a beat too long before I started stammering, trying to come up with some sort of apology coupled with an excuse. Chris only stood there with this goofy smile as he said, “But I’m certainly too decent to make it.”

“I’m not looking at you in any sort of way,” I told him matter of factly, crossing my arms over my chest and tilting my chin up righteously. The last thing I needed was Chris thinking I was undressing him with my eyes, even if there was a sliver of a fraction of truth to it. I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable or have him mention something to his girlfriend and raise her suspicions.

“I know, it was just a bad joke,” he reassured me. I relaxed then, until Chris’s hand reached to comfortably to rest over mine as if holding hands was something we did all the time, giving me a gentle squeeze to say it was alright, but then he didn’t let go. I tensed, staring at his hand as if it was a bug that suddenly landed on me instead of an act of affection. Chris didn’t notice, keeping his eyes on the road, until my brain caught up with my racing heart and I pulled away from him.

“What’re you up to, Evans?” I asked, although it sounded a lot more like an accusation. I certainly didn’t plan on being his “other woman” in D.C. while his girlfriend had no clue all the way in California. Chris gave me this glance in between green lights, a confused furrowed brow and pursed lips like he was focusing on figuring out what just happened, that made me nervous I was being hypervigilant.

“Nothing. I’m sorry,” he said smally, adding that he didn’t mean to make me feel uncomfortable under his breath, clearly taken aback by my reaction. It became evident that he hadn’t been trying anything with me, that I really just misinterpreted his intentions by a long shot, so I apologized too.

The rest of the drive was painfully quiet, until we pulled up to the venue. Between Chris’s famous friends and some of the country’s most prominent politicians attending the gala, I should’ve expected the plethora of paparazzi waiting outside, lining the entrance and snapping shots before the car doors even cracked open.

Chris parked and climbed out of his door, asking if I could wait for him to open mine. I nodded, feeling a bit guilty that he needed to ask if I was okay with the simplest gestures now. As if it wasn’t the most achingly awkward drive of our lives, Chris tossed his keys to the valet and helped me out. He stuck his hand in his pocket, but I reached to wrap my arm around his.

Chris’s eyebrows perked up in surprise as his eyes snapped to mine, looking for some sort of assurance that this was alright so I nodded encouragingly, tugging us by our interlocked arms toward the entrance. While we walked through the alley of reporters, all taking pictures with bright flashes and shouting questions as Chris and I drew closer, I felt his muscles tighten as he grew tense. I snaked my arm up his, rubbing his bicep with the hope of helping him relax, but it only fueled the roar of inquiries thrown at us.

One member of the press, an older man who looked like he’d spent far too long in all sorts of seedy establishments, jumped forward with so much force he nearly caused the barricade holding them back to topple. He bumped into Chris, grabbing his attention as his forehead wrinkled with discontent and his lips turned down in a frown.

Instead of apologizing, the pap took the opportunity to shove a microphone in Chris’s face. “Who’s your date tonight, Mr. Evans?” he asked, voice crackling with years of smoking damage. I turned away from his camera instinctively, only to be met with a barrage of other blinding flashes from the opposite side. “We’ve heard from reliable sources that you’re taken, so who is this girl supposed to be?”

At the mention of his girlfriend, it felt like a rock had dropped off a cliff and plummeted to the pit of my stomach. Of course, everyone else knew he already spoken for, too. The press was never kind, especially to politicians, so I’d gotten used to the tabloids and right-wing sources disparaging comments. However, knowing TMZ and the lot would be picking apart my intense blush, the look in my eyes I couldn’t hide around Chris, the tight grip I held onto him with, it wasn’t something I was prepared for. I didn’t need speculative news to plant any ideas in Chris’s head, or his girlfriend’s for that matter. As badly as I may want it, nothing was going on between us. The rest of the world didn’t need to think there was.

Chris scoffed, muttering that his relationship status wasn’t any of their business. “Especially at a political event, I shouldn’t have to tell you to fact-check your sources. That’s blatantly untrue, her and I haven’t even spoken since that premier months ago,” Chris chided, nearing a snarl. He must’ve been so fed up with those rumors by now, especially if it wasn’t true.

Wait, it wasn’t true?

We took a few steps away, posing for some more pictures from other reporters as we turned our backs to that unbridled pap. “Were you being honest back there, when you said you weren’t dating your co-star, I mean?” I asked Chris, barely in a whisper as I tried to keep the conversation between us. Even just the small bit of hope that I could actually have a chance felt too big for my chest, filling me up until it felt like I was about to burst.

“Of course it is. I wouldn’t have taken you on this date if I was with someone else,” Chris said like it was obvious. We took another couple steps and posed, Chris’s smile appearing much more like a grimace.

“This is a date?” I shot back with so much perplexion it elicited a laugh from Chris, barely able to process the rest of it.

“Mhm, if you’re alright with that,” Chris hummed, staring down at me with an inclined eyebrow and a patient partial smile. He paused to shoot the paparazzi another supposed-to-be smile that made him look more pained than anything. “I’ve been trying to build up the courage to ask you out since we met. Thought this was as good a time as any, considering the free dinner,” he elaborated with wiggling eyebrows, taking a few more steps.

The pictures that came out of that moment are not my best, to say the least. The one where I’m slapping Chris’s shoulder, yelling at him for not being nearly clear enough and ruining what could’ve been a perfectly good hand-holding moment with his ambiguity, looking like I’d smite him if I could was his phone’s home screen for far too long.

“I’m sorry,” he said, although his laughter implied completely otherwise. “I thought you knew. I mean, I did ask you to be my date.” Chris shrugged, shuffling down the carpet a little more.

I shook my head, still gaping at him with shock. “No,” I emphasized, all but wagging my finger as I scolded him. “You asked me to be your plus one. When I bring a plus one to a wedding, it’s my best friend and our very own bottle of wine. But when I have a date, I bring- I don’t know, condoms instead.”

“I hate to break it to you,” Chris started, sounding awfully naughty in his endearing sort of way. “But would it be insulting if I said I slipped one of those into my wallet just in case? I’ll give you a hint,” he leaned down, tickling my cheek’s sensitive skin with his beard as he whispered gruffly, “the wine wouldn’t fit.” Chris laughed again when he pulled away, finding my astonishment so funny he utterly guffawed until his eyes squeezed shut and he was nearly doubled over.

“You are unbelievable,” I said, feeling terribly light-headed as if I’d forgotten to breathe, which I probably did. All I managed to do was smile at him with everything I had, my lips and my eyes and my whole soul started beaming.

“Really, though,” Chris said with a sudden seriousness as he caught his breath after his laughter subsided. We turned to face the other half of the press as he took his hand out of his pocket, wrapping it around my waist and tugging me into his side. I think he may have just wanted to speak quietly enough that our conversation remained private amidst the many recording devices. “I just want to be clear this time. You do want to go out with me?” he asked, imploring me to be honest, reassuring me that there was no pressure.

“Only since I met you,” I confessed, feeling like a heavy weight left my chest for the first time in a week. “I really like you. I just- My intern told me something and then it was all over every gossip column. God, it sounds so stupid now, but I really thought you had a girlfriend.”

We posed for a picture where I leaned my head on Chris’s chest, just in the slightest. Now that I could express it, to everyone else, including Chris, I wasn’t going to waste a moment of showing exactly how I felt about him.

Chris chuckled with a rumble that made my head vibrate against his chest, wrapping his arm around my shoulders in a half-hug as he pulled me closer and said, “I’m hoping I will soon.” I looked up at him, not entirely sure how to respond. After all, I’d been hoping- no, dreaming of hearing him say something to that extent for what felt like forever. He winked at me and, for a moment, every shouting reporter and every camera flare ceased to exist.

Then the reporter who’d berated Chris earlier caught up to us, shoving through the length of the barricade to get our attention again. Apparently, he wasn’t satisfied with Chris’s response. “So who’s this new girl, then? Another movie promotion project?” he sneered, reaching as far as he could to get the mic back in Chris’s face. He only rolled his eyes and shuffled down a little farther, hoping we would be left alone. We seemed to be in the clear, almost to the gala’s entrance, when the pap spoke up again. “Maybe another charity case, then? Definitely a downgrade in arm candy!”

Chris stopped dead in his tracks, causing me to fall back to his side when I tried to race forward without letting him go. “Come on,” I urged him. “He just wants a rise out of you. It doesn’t bother me, they’ve said worse. Let’s just head in,” I begged, only wanting to escape the onslaught of reporters and get out of the limelight if only for the night. We could deal with the gossip in the morning, but, right now, Chris didn’t need to cause any more incited trouble.

Instead, Chris didn’t budge toward the door by an inch. I nearly stomped my foot trying to bargain with him, but Chris only gave me this look like he was apologizing for something that hadn’t happened yet. The harsh, angry lines carved into his features that may as well have been sculpted from marble softened and his stone-cold gaze warmed as he looked at me for a split second before his head snapped to the reporter.

“You want a headline?” Chris challenged the reporter. He hesitated for a moment, eyes darting between Chris and I, before nodding eagerly and jutting his microphone further into his face.

Chris cleared his throat dramatically. “She,” he said, gesturing a lazy hand to me. I smiled and waved awkwardly, entirely unsure of where this was going. “She is my intelligent, beautiful, successful, kind, funny, incredible date,” Chris paused to give me a pointed look, “who is in no way attached to any of my work, charity or otherwise,” he spoke from low in his throat, stopping again to shoot the reporter daggers before turning back to the camera with a dauntingly serious glare, just daring someone to even think any less.

“She, however, does a lot of amazing work for her city and this country. Amazingly, all on her very own!” Chris’s mouth gaped with mock bewilderment before he started laughing again, unable to take any of this seriously. “Report about that. Now, I’m sure you have plenty of questions,” Chris said, raising his hands in self-defense and shaking his head with a tight-lipped, roguish grin. “Since you guys love using your sources so much, Google New York’s 9th congressional district representative. I’m sure you’ll find that she’s a lot more interesting than calling her ‘arm candy’ implies, although she’s awfully good at that, too.” Chris shot me a wink, his scowl morphing into a smirk. If the mic had been in his hand, I’m sure he would’ve dropped it just for the dramatic flare.

For once, the media seemed to be stunned to silence, allowing us to make our grand escape without interruption. I grabbed Chris by his lapels, for the first time in however long, I could remember completely disregarding the cameras and microphones pointed in my direction. Instead of worrying about my image or what anyone other than myself would think, I was overcome with one desire.

I pulled him in for a kiss as his eyebrows shot up in surprise. Then, right under the harsh lights of the red carpet, we melted together. My hands started at his cheeks and then snaked around to the nape of his neck, pressing Chris impossibly closer to me. His rested at the small of my back as he dipped me, bending into the kiss and holding me tight like I was about to vanish into thin air.

We shared a tender glance when we broke apart before Chris cracked a smile. He jokingly bowed and held his hand out to me as he said, “If that doesn’t prove how I feel about you, I don’t know what will.” I rolled my eyes as I wrapped my hand around his gratefully, hoping with every bit of me after our fingers intertwined that he’d never let go this time.

Tags: @patzammit , @thegetawaywriter , @coffeebooksandfandom , @captainsteveevans , @intrepidandabitcrazy , @super100012 , @spilledinkindumpster , @torntaltos , @amiquette

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vinylackles · 5 years

Text

the story

word count: 4,367

requested by: anonymous

summary: this is a bit of backstory about sam and the reader, from their proposal (towards the end of season 11) all the way to their honeymoon!

a few of my other fics [ring and the cabin] are kind of involved in this fic (the timeline for ring, and the actual cabin if you’d like to read them as well, though you don’t have to :)

all my works || request imagines here

the push:

Dean had been on his ass for weeks, and Sam had gone out to the store to buy a new duffle bag simply so he would never have to share one with his brother again. He wasn’t supposed to find the box, but he hadn’t stopped prying, and today was no exception.

“If you’ve already got the ring why don’t you just ask her already you chicken,” Dean had said as soon as he walked into the kitchen.

“You’re right Dean, I’m so sorry for not taking your advice, considering how many successful proposals you’ve done. Oh wait, that’s right...”

“Alright, low blow,” Dean grumbled, sipping at his coffee. They fell back into the tense silence that had been over the bunker for the last few weeks. They knew, with Amara lurking out there that they were going to have to act, and soon.

The aching fear in Sam’s belly about what would happen when the time did come to face the darkness wasn’t helping his tolerance either.

“Sorry. I’ve just got more important things to worry about right now,” Sam mumbled, turning back to the book he had been scanning before Dean interrupted.

“No you don’t,” Dean countered. Sam only lifted his eyes to roll them. “Seriously Sam, you shouldn’t be puttin’ all this crap above your personal life.”

The younger Winchester had to stifle a laugh.

“Uh, where have you been for the last 25 years of our lives? That’s what we do Dean, that’s what all hunters do. You stow your crap and you do the job. And right now, the job is Amara.”

“I can handle Amara. It might not be pretty but I can handle her.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m worried about,” Sam murmured, frustration growing. Dean was silent for a while, and it put an odd tension back into the room.

“Sam.”

“What.”

“Sammy look at me.” There was an aching vulnerability in his brothers voice that Sam couldn’t deny even if he wanted to. He looked up, marking his spot in his book.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been on your ass lately, about proposin’ and all that. It’s just, I think I see the end of this road, with the darkness and everything. I think I know - I think we both know how this is gonna end, and I know how screwed up I got all those times that you were... gone. I just want you to be happy. Once I’m gone.”

“Dean, stop it.”

“Just hear me out, okay? I know I’ve always been the one that said we keep hunting, that we could never stop. I gave you crap for leavin’ me in purgatory and going after your normal apple-pie life. But I want you to know, that if this ends with me on a pyre, and you wanna walk away.... that’s okay with me. You’ve more than earned it, and besides, you’ve got somethin’ more important to care about now.”

Sam’s throat was too tight for him to answer, and thankfully, Dean didn’t wait on one.

“That girl of yours, she’s somethin’ else Sam. I knew it from the minute you found her, and I couldn’t think of anyone better for you. I mean that. She’s basically a little sister to me, and you two deserve each other. You deserve to be happy Sam. I know that’s not easy, with what we do, so if you need to throw in the towel, you can.”

“Can you save the death bed speech Dean? Please? You aren’t dying over this, I’m not gonna let you,” Sam’s voice cracked on his brothers name, giving him away.

“We’re all gonna die eventually little brother. And you’ve gotta make the best of it while you’re here. From where I’m standin’, it looks like the best of it for you is in the shower right now, blaring that song she’s been playing all week.” He chuckled a bit, the sound of Y/N’s music a dull murmur in the background. “So could you do your big brother a solid and lock that down, for good, before I end up walkin’ into something I’m not sure I’m gonna walk out of? It’d give me some peace of mind.”

Sam just nodded, unable to say anything around the lump in his throat. But when Dean clapped him on the shoulder he reached up and caught his hand, squeezing tightly.

the proposal:

It was only three days after his talk with Dean, and he hadn’t planned on doing it then. He’d run through a thousand plans in his head, and eliminated them all one by one. Rent out a stadium - too over the top. Just ask her one morning - she deserved more than that. Get her a puppy and put the ring on the collar - tempting, but they couldn’t take care of a dog.

And so he’d decided that it would be whenever it felt natural, and preferably before anything major happened with Dean and the darkness. He could give his brother what he asked for - it was the least he could do. It wasn’t like he wasn’t planning on doing it soon anyways.

It started when Y/N had climbed into bed, still fully clothed, and cuddled up to his side, resting her chin on his chest. She looked up at him through her lashes while he read his book, a tell-tale sign that she wanted something.

“Hi baby. Whatcha need?” He asked.

“I want ice cream.” She grinned, hopeful. He couldn’t resist that smile, and she knew it too.

“I think we have some vanilla in the freezer. But you want Mosley’s, don’t you?” He knew her order at the local ice cream shop by heart.

All she did was smile sheepishly as an answer, scooting up the bed to press a kiss to his lips.

“Let me get my shoes on.” He kissed her again before getting up and heading to the closet. Y/N snagged one of Sam’s flannels and threw it on with the shirt and leggings she was already wearing.

“I’ll get the keys from Dean, meet you in the garage!” She gave him one more peck on the cheek before bounding out of the room, obviously excited for the inevitable ice cream.

When she was gone, it struck him. Maybe tonight could be the night. So he pocketed the ring quietly in his jacket, trying not to focus on the weight of it against his chest.

He almost forgot about it, no room for much else in his mind when he saw her perched on the hood of the impala waiting for him. She was just mindlessly scrolling through her phone, perfectly relaxed with no idea what was coming. He didn’t want it any other way.

“Ready beautiful?”

“Mosleys here we come!” Y/N exclaimed, hopping down off the car and moving to the passenger side. Sam had barely gotten in before she slid over to lean against him, nuzzling up to his side like she always did when it was just them.

“You’re so comfy. How can you be so muscley and so comfy at the same time,” she mumbled, her cheek squished against his shoulder. He just laughed, wrapping his right arm around her and kissing her forehead.

When they got to Mosleys, she stayed in the car. Sam was good enough friends with the owner to ask for a special favor, and he walked out with both their favorites in a small styrofoam cooler filled with dry ice.

He could see Y/N’s eyes squint in suspicion through the windshield as he got to the car.

“What’re you up to Winchester?” She asked as soon as his door was open.

“It’s a surprise. You know, those things you hate?”

She squinted her eyes even more, scrunching her nose in the most adorable way. He leaned over the cooler and kissed her softly, bringing her out of her mood, but only slightly.

“I’m just taking my girl on a date, is that allowed?” He teased as Baby rumbled to life.

“I suppose.” She muttered, moving the cooler to the other side of her legs so she could cuddle back up to him. They drove for about 30 minutes, to a little outlook that sat high above a lake. They’d been there before, but never at night, and as Sam expected, when they got out the sky was spattered with some of the brightest stars he’d ever seen.

“Woah,” she whispered as she got out of the car, eyes wide, cooler in her arms. Sam popped the trunk, silently thanking his brother for the fact that there was still a blanket in the back. He spread it out over a patch of grass, motioning for Y/N to come join him. She sat down while he unpacked the ice cream - the man had given him pints of each of their favorite flavors on the house once he’d told him the plan.

She toyed with the fog that was coming out of the container from the ice, fascinated by it as it disappeared in the warm Kansas air.

“It’s even more beautiful out here at night,” she said when she finally looked back up at the sky. Sam passed her the pint with a spoon stuck in the top. She took it happily, scooping some out and pressing it against her tongue. He wasn’t sure how she looked so cute all the time - surely it was exhausting.

Somehow, while staring at her at that moment, all his nerves disappeared. He was so sure of her, of them, that it seemed silly that he was nervous in the first place. So the next words out of his mouth came naturally, easy as water.

“Do you wanna get married?”

“Duh, you know that,” she said, staring up at the sky.

That didn’t go as planned.

“I mean, do you want to marry me?”

“You bought me ice cream and took me to see the stars, who else would I marry?” She mused, still not looking at him. Even when he reached into his pocket and pulled out the box, she remained oblivious, staring at the sky. He took the opportunity to move back a little bit and prop himself up on a knee.

“Y/N. Will you marry me?”

“I mean are you gonna give me a ri- HOLY CRAP!” She turned around finally, almost swallowing her spoon at the sight of him there on one knee.

“Don’t choke,” he chuckled, resisting the urge to reach over and swipe the spoon out of her mouth. She did the honors, letting it drop onto the blanket.

“Sam.” She was breathless it seemed, her eyes flickering between his face and the ring.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while, I just wanted it to be the right time. You’re all I want, forever. And I thought we could make it, you know, official? If you’re up for it?”

That was so not what he was planning on saying. But she didn’t seem to care in the slightest.

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes holy crap yes!” She practically squealed, tackling him in a kiss. He rolled slightly so his legs didn’t get trapped behind him as he kissed her back, both their smiles bursting through every time their lips parted.

“You didn’t even let me put your ring on,” he teased, brushing some hair back from her face. Y/N sat up, tugging him up with her so she was sitting on his lap. He picked the box up, pulling the ring carefully out of the velvet and sliding it onto her finger. It fit perfectly, making him smile.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, and he could hear her tears in her voice.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

the engagement:

Planning a wedding and hunting weren’t exactly conducive activities.

“Baby, you can stay here if you need to, I know you wanted to meet with that florist,” Sam sighed a bit, watching you pack your bag.

“Flowers aren’t going to do me much good if my fiance is dead in a vamp nest somewhere,” you muttered, tossing an extra change of clothes in and zipping it up.

“Hey. C’mere.” Sam’s voice was gentle and you felt the tension leave your shoulders as you moved over towards him.

“I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you, I’m just stressed out. I want it to be a perfect day,” you mumbled, burying your face in his chest as he held you.

“I know. It’s gonna be perfect no matter what, cause we’re gonna be married at the end of the day, regardless. But I know you want it to be a certain way. I just wish it didn’t stress you out so much.”

“Have you met me? Everything stresses me out.” You chuckled, pressing your forehead into his chest. He laughed with you, hand coming up to run through your hair.

“Well, we’ve got a few months left before the wedding. What’s left?”

“Flowers. And I’ve got the last fitting for my dress, Jody is coming with me for that. All the guys have their suits, the girls are getting their dresses back from the tailors. We have the cake, we’ve got the rings. Dean’s building the alter stuff.”

“So.... just the flowers then?”

“And the honeymoon...”

You tried again, though you knew it was futile. Maybe, just maybe he’d slip up and give it away.

“The honeymoon is taken care of, I promise. How about when we get back from this hunt we go to the florist together, yeah?”

“You don’t want to go to the florist, you couldn’t care less about the flowers,” you accused, but it was lighthearted.

“Yeah, but you care, which means I care. Now c’mon, we’ve got some vampires to kill.”

the wedding:

For once, the Kansas weather had decided to cooperate. It was a beautiful day, sun shining over the bunker, a nice breeze keeping it from being too hot. Everything was perfect, and yet you still couldn’t breathe.

“Y/N? Hey, are you gonna be okay if I leave you here to walk mom down? I can get Cas to do it if you need me to.” Dean's worry was obvious as he slipped a hand under your elbow, as if you were going to fall. You weren’t sure that you wouldn’t.

“No, no I’m okay. Just, uh, hurry back, okay?” Your voice was strained. You weren’t sure why you were so nervous - everything had gone to plan, everybody you and Sam loved were there.

“You got it. Hang in there.” Dean squeezed you a bit before letting go and moving up the line to let Mary take his arm. You knew Sam was close by, so you stayed hidden in the bunker stairwell. Neither of you had wanted to see the other beforehand, but not having him there with you was probably why you were so nervous - you two had never been the greatest at separation. Music had begun to play, and you knew the processional was moving along.

The alter had been set up behind the bunker, in a little clearing of the woods. There was a path lined with flowers, up to a beautiful alter that Dean had built from some reclaimed wood he’d found. It was beautiful to anyone, not just your biased eyes. You kept yourself hidden, but peaked out just enough so you could see everyone walking down.

Cas lead, with Claire on his arm. He kissed her cheek before they moved to their appropriate sides of the alter. Next was Jack, who did double time and walked both Patience and Alex down, since Dean was on his way back to you.

The sight of familiar faces made it a bit easier to breathe. Garth was there, and Donna. Mary was beaming at her son, but you refused to follow her gaze. If you looked at Sam now, you knew you’d start crying. Jody was standing at the alter - she’d gotten ordained just for you two.

Dean made it back to you quickly, holding up his arm for you to take.

“You ready for this?”

“I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s just Sam,” you murmured, more to yourself than to Dean.

“You’re just excited I bet. Sam was shakin’ in his boots all morning waiting for you. I’ve got yah, okay? I’ll get you down the aisle and Sam will take it from there.”

Something in the familiar cadence of his voice, and knowing that you’d be right there with Sam in just a minute made your nerves cease enough for you to take that first step, out into the light.

You clutched onto Dean’s arm and matched his pace, watching the petal-covered grass underneath your feet. And when you heard the sound of everyone rising from their chairs, you lifted your eyes from the ground.

And there he was.

You’d known what suit he was going to wear. What color his tie was, which flowers would be on his boutonnière. You’d seen his smile a thousand times. But he was beaming, and you could see the tears welling up at the sight of you in your dress.

And it didn’t matter that everyone was looking at you, or that you were crying too. He was there and he was about to be your husband, and you couldn’t have been happier in that moment.

“Easy tiger, it’s not a race,” Dean murmured, trying to slow down your pace. You hadn’t realized you’d sped up so much, automatically drawn towards Sam. Why had you made the aisle so long?

Finally, finally, you got there. Dean kissed your cheek and guiding you up the few stairs that he’d built. You passed your bouquet to Claire, who fixed the train on your dress and then you turned, gazing up at Sam.

He was still crying, but trying to keep it together a bit more as he took your hands in his. You couldn’t do anything but stare at him, and take it all in as Jody spoke, about love and the importance of it.

You both pulled it together enough to repeat your vows to each other, though the tears were still streaming. Dean handed Sam the rings, and yours settled perfectly on your finger, as if it was meant to be there all along. Perhaps it was.

You weren’t sure you’d ever heard sweeter words than “you may now kiss your bride”, and you couldn’t help but smile when you felt the cool metal of Sam’s ring on your cheek when he cupped your face, bending down to kiss you.

It was soft and warm and different somehow. You were kissing your husband, and you weren’t sure you were even going to get over that.

Everyone cheered as you headed down the aisle, back to the door of the bunker that you’d come out of.

You disappeared inside for a moment, pulling Sam with you. As soon as the door closed behind you you were kissing him again with as much fierceness as you could muster, somehow trying to put action to the happiness that was burning inside of you. He obliged, taking your hips in his hands, hands splayed out against the white fabric that covered you.

It took you a minute to work it out of your system, and you knew that everyone would probably starting to trickle in from the ceremony in just a moment. When you pulled away, you weren’t sure you’d ever felt happier.

“You didn’t even let me carry you over the threshold,” Sam chuckled, resting his forehead against yours.

“Sorry,” you whispered, laughing with him.

“The stairs will do,” he grinned, getting that boyish glint in his eyes that made your heart warm since the first time you saw it. He scooped you up, starting the descent off the balcony.

“Please don’t fall and break a leg, I know you can’t see those stairs over this dress,” you cautioned.

“Ever the romantic,” Sam teased, kissing your cheek. You reached the bottom at the perfect time, getting one more kiss in before the doors open and everyone began to funnel in from outside. You both waited at the bottom, accepting everyone’s hugs and well wishes.

When Dean got to you, he took you by surprise, picking you up and spinning you around.

“Welcome to the family Winchester,” he had said, and it was the first time in a long time you’d seen Dean truly happy.

The night moved on like most weddings, you assumed. Everyone ate pizza that you’d ordered from the local joint, and there was wine and beer and cake and dancing. You’d pushed all the tables to the walls in the library, leaving the whole space open; a makeshift dance floor.

Your first dance song played from the record player in the corner, and you smiled as Sam held you close, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. After that, it seemed everyone wanted a chance to dance with the bride, so you were passed around through the slow songs. Much to your surprise, Jack seemed to be the best dancer of all of them. He later revealed he’d watched some youtube videos on how to slow dance, obviously proud of himself.

You found yourself back in Sam’s arms again as the night began to wind down.

“You ready for our honeymoon?” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“How can I be ready if I don’t know where we’re going? You wouldn’t even let me pack my own bag,” you countered, scrunching up your nose at him.

“You’ll know soon enough. C’mon, let’s go.”

the honeymoon:

“I knew it!” She exclaimed, making Sam smile as he brought the car to a stop outside the cabin. He didn’t tell her that they were only spending the night there, that in the morning they’d be driving to the airport and heading off to the beach.

He got out first, moving around the car to open Y/N’s door for her and help her out. She had been so eager to leave and see where they were going that she’d insisted her dress was comfortable enough to ride in. She somehow looked even more beautiful out there amongst the trees, dressed in white, relaxed and completely herself.

“C’mere,” he said quietly, taking her waist in his hands and pulling her to him. She melted under his touch it seemed, pliant under his lips as he kissed her. She was sweet to taste, and he could feel her smile. With a sigh he pulled away, but only to grab the smaller overnight bag he’d packed for them.

“We don’t need the big bags yet. Besides, I don’t see many clothes in our immediate future.”

“Oh?” She blushed bright pink.

“As sad as I am to see it go, I am so ready to get you out of that dress. Also, you aren’t cheating me out of my threshold this time,” he grinned, tossing the bag over his shoulder before scooping Y/N up.

“I love you,” she said, breathless as he carried her through the doorway.

“I love you too, wife.” The word felt so natural on his tongue, and the he wished he could keep the smile it brought to her face there forever. “C’mon beautiful, let’s get you to bed.”

Their shoes were first, and the dress was next. It had delicate buttons along the back, and he fumbled with them, his long fingers getting in his own way as they both laughed through his struggle. When he finally got them undone it fell heavy to the ground, revealing delicate, white lingerie that about sent him to his knees. It took all his self control to move away and hang the dress up on a spare hanger, hooking it over the door of the bedroom.

He slipped out of his dress shirt, having already lost the jacket and tie back at the bunker before they’d left. He was about to sit back down before he caught the look his wife was giving him.

“What?”

“I’m only in my underwear... you too. Equal partners, remember?” She teased, quirking an eyebrow.

He just laughed, undoing his belt and tossing it aside before letting his pants fall to the floor. She gasped, making him panic a bit, looking down at his plain black boxer briefs.

“What!?” He asked yet again.

“No white lace?! What kinda wedding night is this!?” She faked her exasperation, but she could only keep up the act for a moment before she burst out laughing.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he teased, moving to the bed in a fluid motion, wrapping a strong arm around her waist and lifting her just enough to guide her onto her back.

Everything paused when she winced, sucking in a breath.

“Baby? What’s wrong?”

“One of my hair pins just poked me. I swear, there must be five hundred of them in there,” she muttered, nose scrunched as she looked up towards her hair.

“C’mere, I’ll take em out.”

Sam guided her back up to sitting, letting her settle in his lap facing away from him as he began to run his fingers through her hair, picking out the pins that were stuck within it. He smiled as the curls began to fall, and she relaxed more and more every time he found a new one to take out.

His hand was full by the time he was done, and he put them all on the bedside table, running his other hand over Y/N’s sore scalp. She was practically purring under his touch, leaning her weight back onto his chest. He peppered kisses along her skin, up her neck, along her jaw, finally catching her lips when she turned to look at him.

She twisted on his lap, settling with her legs wrapped around his waist, moulding to him like she always did.

The night was spent intertwined in every sense of the word, slow and warm and soft, with whispered I loves you and promises. They fell asleep pressed against each other, safe in knowing that it was really the two of them, forever.

leave me feedback and i’ll cry okay

#WOW this turned out long #but I think I like it #let me know what you think!!!#feedback is my fuel yall and i'm feelin kinda shitty about my writing lately #so it would mean a lot :')#sam winchester #sam winchester imagine #spn imagine #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #aintnonetwork

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besidemethewholedamntime · 5 years

Note

Hello again! :D I'm here because of our conversation earlier... where I asked you if I could request a fic where Jemma wakes up after some surgery and asks hilarious questions to Fitz while still not fully recovered from anesthesia.. may be an au, may be canon! It's totally up to you ♥

hello! Here’s your finished piece and I hope it’s kind of what you were looking for! Thank you so much for prompting me it - it was such a joy to write

bumblebees and wisdom teeth

{Read on Ao3}

or read below!

“No. Absolutely not. You must be out of your mind toeven suggest it.”

Fitz rolls his eyes as she turns her back for a moment– knowing better than to do it so she can see. His tone is calm, without a hintof frustration. “It was your dentist, Jemma, not me. And it wasn’t so much as asuggestion as she effectively told you that you needed your wisdom toothremoved.”

Jemma makes a harrumphsound, before throwing herself forcefully into the kitchen chair. “My teethare perfect.”

“I know,” hetells her, for the fifth time. “And so does she. But it’s hurting you. And youeither leave it or it gets infected and this becomes a much bigger deal.” Helooks at her imploringly. “You know this.”

A small smile appears, and he watches as she givesway. “That did sound like something I would say.”

For the first time since they’ve arrived home fromJemma’s dentist appointment this afternoon, Fitz allows himself a smile, too.As big and as brave as his wife is, he knows she has great reservations aboutthe dentist. It’s taken two weeks to try and convince the normally completelylogical Jemma Simmons to get over herself and make an appointment about thebothersome tooth.

“It won’t be so bad,” he tells her gently, able tocomfort now the stubbornness has subsided. “A quick operation.”

“But it’s only partially erupted,” Jemma moans. “Whichmeans they’ll have to dig around in there.”

“After everything you have faced, you can definitelyovercome this.” He watches her smile again, though it’s small. “And if you’revery good, then I’ll even get you some ice cream after it’s all over.”

She laughs at him, reaching over to kiss him gently.“That approach may work on our daughter,” she says silkily, “but I’m afraid Imight require something more than ice-cream.”

“Whatever you want,” he promises, kissing her again.

-x-

“Can I come, too?”

Sarah looks at him beseechingly, holding her miniatureladybird suitcase in her hands. Fitz stops folding the washing to ruffle herhair.

“We’ll all be going, kiddo. Mummy’s going to need uswhen the dentist is done with her mouth. But it’s only for a few hours so wewon’t need the suitcase.”

“Oh.” Sarah looks disappointed. “Okay.” She sets itdown on the floor. “When are we going?”

“As soon as mummy is done worrying about all of thethings she won’t be able to do for a couple of days,” he says, watching asSarah’s ‘thinking crease’ appears between her eyebrows. “Hey, why don’t you goget some things to do and put them in your amazing bumblebee bag, yeah?”

She runs off, clearly excited about the prospect ofgetting to use some animal themed luggage today. Fitz drops the t-shirt he’sfolding and pokes his head around the kitchen door.

“You ready to go soon?”

Jemma sits at the kitchen table, a pen gripped so hardin her hand that her knuckles have gone white. There are sheets of paper allover the table, all of the lists she has made to comfort herself. “It says twodays is enough time for recovery.”

“That’s what the dentist said.”

“The NHS website, too,” she hums. “But what do youthink?”

“I think we’ll see how you feel afterwards, okay?” Hereaches out his hand and, though with a bit of reluctance, she takes it.

“You’ll be fine, Jemma,” he says softly. “We’ll bothbe there the whole time.”

“Okay,” she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Okay.Let’s go get this bloody tooth removed.”

He grins in spite of himself. “That’s the spirit!”

-x-

“Oh wow! This is amazing!”

Fitz really only thought that the utter personality changesand complete silliness associated with wisdom tooth removal existed in thefilms, or was one of those things that was exclusively American.

“You are very handsome!”

But no.

“Are you single?”

It appears that it’s not. The proof of which iscurrently sitting on a chair in front of him, mouth puffed up with gauze, wheezingwith laughter at unknown jokes.

Jemma grabs his chin with her cool hands, and wiggles itabout. He tries not to laugh at the bewildered expression on her face. No doubtshe’ll remember it once the anaesthesia wears off.

“I think you’re incrediblyattractive.” She tries to roll her r’s, but it gets lose in the gauze. “Yourface is so symmetrical. I’ll bet if I checked, then you’d have the GoldenRatio.”

Knowing for a fact he doesn’t (because she’s checked,of course) he simply smiles and wishes it wouldn’t be frowned upon to record avideo in a hospital. “That’s a lovely compliment, Jemma, but I think it’s timewe get you home, now. Get you some sleep.”

Her elbow that he’d been about to take to help her upsuddenly retracts as if he’s shocked yet. Her eyes narrow, the crease betweenher eyebrows prominent. For a moment he’s overcome by the similarities between hiswife and daughter.

“How do you know my name?”

“You’re my best-friend and we’re married,” heexplains, patiently, opting for the short version. “If you let me help you up,we can get going and you’ll feel much better. I promise.”

“We’re married?!”She shouts, then winces, but doesn’t let the pain deter her. “Oh, I am verylucky indeed. A very lucky woman.”

“You know, I’m going to remember you said this.”

“Okayyy.” Jemma smiles up at him, glassy eyed, and offersher elbow up to him.

“Excellent, well done.” He helps her stand up, theturns his head this way and that. “Now we just have to locate Sarah and we canbe on our way.”

“Who’s Sarah?” Jemma asks sleepily, trying to lean herhead on his shoulder, and moaning a bit when his head swivelling doesn’t allowfor a comfortable stay.

“What kind of drugs did they give you?” He mutters, beforethe person he desires comes careening into the discharge room, brandishing asweetie from the vending machine.

“I got one for mummy and one for you!” Sarah exclaims,before noticing her mother and looking up at her, blinking owlishly.

“I’ll save hers for later,” she decides, stuffing thebumper pack of Starburst into her backpack.

“Good idea, kiddo.” He grins at her, then turns backto Jemma. “Right, let’s get going.”

“You are so pretty,” Jemma gushes, words slightly moreslurred than they were earlier. “Like a princess.”

Usually, Sarah becomes indignant at being likened to aprincess. Her face becomes all pinchy, and she tosses her toffee coloured curlsover her shoulder before walking away. If she’s in a particularly feisty mood,there can sometimes be shouting involved. He hopes that today isn’t one ofthose days.

Luckily, Sarah is a feisty but perceptive little beanand she simply loops her arm around her mother’s free one and leans her head inand says, “thank you.”

“And such lovely manners, too. You’ve been taught sowell.”

“By the best,” Fitz assures her. “Let’s go home.”

-x-

“Daddy,” Sarah whispers in the car on the way home. “Mummyisn’t going to be like this forever, is she?”

Fitz looks over to where Jemma has her head leaningagainst the passenger window, laughing uproariously at a dog, or perhaps theTesco delivery van, or the post box. He smiles a reassuring smile in the rear -viewmirror.

“Not for very long, kiddo. Don’t worry. Let’s justenjoy it while it lasts.”

-x-

“Knock knock,” he says, gently, pushing open the doorto the darkened bedroom.

“Ungggg,” Jemma groans into the pillow. “My head issplitting.”

He holds up a glass. “I brought you some water.”

She sits up, softly swiping hair away from herslightly swollen jaw. “My hero. Thank you, Fitz.”

“No bother.” He comes to sit next to her, handing herthe water with a paper straw in it.

She takes a sip, wincing a little bit, before lookingpast him, bleary eyes trying to focus in the dimness of the room. “Where’sSarah?”

“Downstairs making you a ‘get well soon’ card with hertoy dog. Expect a lot of paw prints next to her name.”

She chuckles, moaning and gingerly pressing her handto her jaw after she does so. He holds up a box of ibuprofen. “I brought these,too.”

“You deserve an award, Fitz.” She takes them with agrateful look. “I can’t believe what the anaesthesia did to me, earlier. I feelso embarrassed.”

“You shouldn’t,” he laughs. “It was cute.”

“Did I absolutely terrify our daughter?”

He can’t imagine Sarah being absolutely terrified ofanything. The child practically asks the world to come and take her on.

“No, not even a little bit.” He takes her hand in his.“She found it funny.”

“Oh dear. Never again, Fitz. I mean it.”

“I think you’ve done your fair share.” He takes in herpuffy jaw and bleary eyes and still thinks she’s the best thing, apart fromSarah, that he’s ever laid eyes on. “And it’s done now.”

“Mhmm.” She leans against him, head fitting on hisshoulder. “Thank you for everything.”

“Always, Jemma. What else was I going to do?”

He feels her try to smile into his shoulder, before shelooks up, gently taking his chin in her hand.

“What a handsome face,” she giggles. “I can’t believe I’mmarried to it.”

“Yeah, I know.” He presses his hand over hers. “I can’tbelieve it either.”

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seenashwrite · 6 years

Note

Dearest Nash, I've touched on this before in (I believe) in a discussion re: why some mainstream fics get oodles of notes while more original ones do not, *but* I wanted to get a bit more specific here. There are certain writers here whose writing has a definite vibe to it (if you will) that separates their work from others, and your name is one of the first that comes to mind. Bear with me, because trying to detail what makes your writing stand out is difficult while trying to articulate a Q

^ this is a gif with parts 2 - 4, just FYI

Hmmm… this is a bit of a brain buster. But I can answer it, and I think succinctly, maybe with a touch of that Spidey sense you mention:

Thank you for your inquiry, hope that helps!

I kid. But this is a brain-turner. And a characteristic which, like you say, ain’t limited to me. I’d honestly throw comedians under this umbrella, too, not because I’m necessarily gunning for a laugh every time, but because it’s pretty much their job to take a “basic” (a tenet or fact of life or present reality or whatever) and present the observation with a twist. I think of storyteller comedians specifically, your Patton Oswalt-s, Maria Bamford-s, Kathy Griffin-s, and John Mulaney-s.

So if I can sum up, assuming I’m tracking with you, what you’re more or less driving at with the “how” is this –> Is there anything beyond simply personality, or an auto-pilot thought cascade (for lack of better terminology) that contributes? Are there things someone could do/be proactive about, to perhaps cause this same sort of reaction to happen in their brain?

I think there just might be.

Folks reading this, let me ask you a question, and you cannot look it up:

What was the name of the Sherpa guide who led Sir Edmund Hillary up Mount Everest?

His name was Tenzing Norgay.

Nash, what in the name of the frozen corpse of George Mallory does this have to do with Lion’s question?

I shall tell you.

My father told me that fact when I was quite young, so young I legit couldn’t even ballpark my age for you. The context was that having little facts tucked away in your brain may come in handy. Not in a Jeopardy kind of way, more in a conversational way. I’ve no idea why the man thought the Sherpa guide who led Hillary up Mt. Everest would ever come up during a conversation with enough regularity to justify my knowing that fact (aside from him randomly quizzing me throughout my life) but hey, I guess it just did.

But speaking of Lil’ Nash, the situation for her was that she was the eldest of all the Nash litter by miles… like seven or eight years, I’m not bothering to check. So I had a lot of alone time, and my grandmother was my chief babysitter, so prior to kindergarten and then til I was in about second grade (so: all day long during the week, then every weekday after she picked me up from school), I was pretty much always at her house. Yeah, there were toys, but not a lot to do. And I’d read. I’d been reading on my own for a decent while, not because I was some prodigy but because my dad read to me *constantly* when Lil’ Nash was Itty-Bitty Nash, and it “took”. My mom also, every time she went to the grocery store always - and I mean always - brought back a book for me. It might’ve been an Archie comic—-

Mandatory #fuck the CW’s Riverdale tag

—-or a Babysitter’s Club, or Sweet Valley High, Judy Blume, Madeleine L’Engle, Zilpha Keatley Snyder, you get my point. Some small paperback. It would piss Dad off because he’s a cheap bastard and two buck books once or twice a month were really gonna cut into the savings [eyeroll] but also, in a way, because I’d kill it in a half day/a day. Wouldn’t put it down. After awhile, I started writing my own silly little kid stories, then - and this is where the creative writing love came about - I started writing soap operas for my Barbies. (When I was older - like, 5th grade? 6th grade, maybe? - none of my peers were still playing with Barbies, and I got made fun of when, at a sleepover, they saw my stash. And I was like - No, no, no. Those aren’t for playing. That’s my cast.)

Time went on, and when I was bored at post-church lunch/dinners, I would also read the old encyclopedias at my grandmother’s, the ones from the late ‘60s/early ‘70s that she had for my mom and my aunt. As I got even older and became fascinated with rooting through the boxes in gran’s basement, looking at all the cool old clothes, I stumbled upon my aunt’s collection of Whoa-Hooooo Shit There’s No Way My Grandparents Knew You Read These books. Those kinda Harlequin-esque ones, except my aunt’s tastes run close to mine, none were the same shtick with different covers, shmultzy-sappy romance, there was always some sort of intrigue along with the sexy times, and she also had, like, every legit V. C. Andrews (meaning: not the ones from the ghostwriter, this was way before her death) book.

What is my point? I read a LOT. Now-a-days, other than fanfic (which… straight up: I don’t read a lot of that, either. I peace out on probs 80% of it before the third-to-fifth paragraph. It’s gotta sell me fast, yo) I haven’t read fiction in probably, oh…. 12 years? I think the last ones were the first couple Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. Wait, no! I lie! I read the 50 Shades books when I was traveling 2x/wk for a job about 4 years ago, and I needed the laughs. It worked. Oh my days, that woman can’t write. The screenplay might’ve been worse, it goes her, then Buckleming, then everyone else. It’s bad. In any event, past decade or so, it’s more historical stuff and true crime and science stuff and all that old fart jazz.

Okay, so that’s #1: Read. And not just anything, be well-read, and that doesn’t mean developing some level of expertise, by “well” I’m saying to cover the spread. You’re building your tool kit, is all. You won’t use most of it, but it’s nice to have options. You also don’t always have to get this stuff from reading now-a-days, because podcasts. Cover the spread there, too. Lemme look at my bookmarks….

[Spongebob narrator voice: A few moments later]

I’m back. Science - Skeptic’s Guide to the Universe; General current stuff without being news - CGP Grey’s Hello Internet; current events with shittons of pop culture, past and present - Greg Proops’ Smartest Man in the World; fun history stuff - The Dollop; entertainment stuff - How Did This Get Made.

#2: Keep a notebook with you and jot down turns-of-phrase that spark something in your brain - things you read on websites, on twitter, in articles, things you hear people say (real life, TV, movies, podcasts), and write it. Don’t snap a pic with your phone or make a note in your phone. There are studies behind this, I’m not hunting them down, you’ll just have to trust me, but there are, and it goes to being reflexive, a brain “muscle memory” thing, if you will. You’re not doing it to plagiarize, you’re doing it to dissect it, kind’ve like you did with the example you gave on me —> went from punch action to punch spiked with booze to a punch with a spiked gauntlet.

Which leads to #3: Mental dictionary. I have a large vocab repository, and it stems from the tons of reading - I stop and look up stuff if I either don’t know it, or it’s used in such a way that I think they’ve got it wrong and want to double-check that maybe there’s another usage I don’t know - and also stems from a drive to combat the (still fairly thick) deep South drawl I can’t kick, and not for lack of trying. But see, I couldn’t have whipped out that progression if I weren’t aware that one definition of “spike” is “to add alcohol to”, or of the common shtick in stories of spiked punch like at high school proms typically, or knew about the existence of spiked gauntlets / old school armor.

And I guarantee you that a good chunk of people didn’t really “get it”, and just thought “Nash Be Nashin’, that nutty gal”. So they “get it” on that level, but don’t Get. It., if you see what I’m saying. And that’s fine. Maybe it got something cranking in the back of their mind and it’ll hit ‘em in the middle of the night, or they’ll be watching Game of Thrones or something, see a gauntlet and be like “Oh goddamnit, I just got a throw-a-way one-liner from three years ago” and have a chuckle.

Related, re: looking stuff up and things that people “get”? I didn’t know fuck-all about Twilight, but it seemed of import to the folks around 5 years younger than me, the Nashlings wouldn’t shut up about it, so I got a good working knowledge of it. Same with Harry Potter, and through it I got to “know” J.K. Rowling, who I find to be an exceptional writer, so that was great, and I’ve watched the movies for the most part over the years at Christmastime, and I don’t give the first shit about what “house” I’m in, nor do I care about what Patronus I’d fart, but I have a working knowledge of what those are, and horcruxes and who Snape and Voldie are, you get my point. I can keep up. But to do it, I had to take the time to look it up. One thing I would not trade for gold is Michael Sheen chewing the goddamn scenery in that battle segment from the last Twilight movie. Have I watched the movie? No. But that scene is the shit. And that baby CGI is horrific on several subtle levels. And not-so-subtle. I’ve digressed.

Back to those notes: So if you’ve got these notes jotted, you might see something else and think “I feel like that could’ve been snappier…. why do I think that….” And you’ve got a resource at your disposal, that little notebook. Hell, jot that thing down - things you think could be done better. I have in many documents a highlight around chunks of scenes for my big dog story where it says in bold above or below “DO BETTER”. Meaning: there’s a better way to get from A to B, but I’m just not quite there yet. I’m pretty quick on the uptake and can crank out something snappy on the fly (like say, in CASPN chat or when banging out a short reply or thank you note) but there’s definitely times I gotta slap a DO BETTER on it and walk away til that snappy something-or-other light bulb goes off.

Here’s a recent one where I backtracked, matter of fact - that noir spoof thing I wrote? Along with my co-writer, Moscato? There was a line that I couldn’t hit with a good zinger, so I just said moments were going by like a fat hamster on a wheel, which is cute, but not really grooving with the setting/the vibe. Less tipsy, when I was correcting some inelegant formatting and a misspelling [sigh], I went “Oh! Why didn’t this occur to me last night? Right. Wine.” So the line is now about moments dragging like a rolling donut with a copper on its tail. Get it? The cop’s a fat ass. The donut-cop stereotype.

…….Fine, it ain’t my best, but it fits better. Moving on.

And this leads nicely into #4, and a specific tip I can impart - assuming you’ve got a passable-to-high level of vocabulary in your tool belt, practice messing around with making nouns into verbs, and twisting random stuff into descriptors and using bizarre words/things in metaphors/analogies. Like, I say “adulting” quite a bit. Ali - @littlegreenplasticsoldier - I thiiiink was writing recently about Sam being drunk, and he’s a tall wobbly Jenga tower on his last Jenga. Going back to the noir, pulpy detective style, try messing with the whole “S/he was like a ___ that ____”. Add on to stuff that’s well known - He was like a dog with a bone, if the bone was a ____ and he was a ____ and we were in a ____. (I have *nothing* in mind to fill those blanks, by the way, feel free to twist it into sumpin’)

What else…. okay, here’s a #5: In drafts, let yourself wander, and see what kicks out. It can be fueled by silliness or anger, but I don’t reckon you’re gonna get the “snappy” you’re aiming for if you’re down in the dumps and going full-court-press angst. The best stuff, IMO, comes from the space in between goofy and pissed, and that is The Land Of Snark. You can always re-style it to bend more dry or wistful should you need to, certainly, depending on the situation.

Have a sample of a primo Nash Digression that was fueled by ire in a recap from Season 12 (episode 19). I had said - RE: the random inclusion of the character Joshua, which still pisses me off because they burned a character that held massive potential for future stuff as he’d been shown to be the only angel with direct access to Chuck, so, y’know, that could never come in handy, like ever again in the series, right? - the following.

Mandatory pre-emptive #fuck Dabb

[Spongebob narrator voice] A few moments later —>

On god, I have no idea where that came from, and here’s where we go back to ol’ Spidey up there, because end of the day?

All that other stuff’s the foundation, sure, but there’s always gonna be the weird iggy, the thing that can’t be learned or taught, whatever the quirky synapse is that fires off in my/our brains. In my experience, it’s an ADD-ish sort of jam mixed with the Nostradamus effect. Meaning, (A) we’re at Level 10, rapid fire thought processing >50% of the time, and (B) throw out enough stuff for long enough, some of it’s going to stick. And I whiff it plenty. Multiple times in CASPN chat I’ve been like “Whoo, tough room” when something falls flat.

A specific example: @mrswhozeewhatsis - and I think you saw this, but anyone else seeing this may not have - gave probably the most fantastic analogy I’ve seen regarding the whole “getting it” thing, and while it was on the topic of meaty plots that get too far into the weeds (my specialty) and how it can lessen appeal to a broader audience, it still applies here.

She said “Sometimes, when I’m reading something of yours, I feel like there’s a joke I’m missing. It’s like watching Spaceballs without having seen Star Wars.” I say that to say - nobody’s gonna land references that cover the spread 100% of the time. And, y’know, fine. I figure maybe it’ll prompt someone to do a quick google for - well, let’s use Spaceballs. Most folks will no doubt get the Star Wars part, but maybe not Spaceballs. Maybe they’ll check it out, find something they enjoy. Or learn a new word. Or get a brainstorm for a story. Who knows?

Last tip: Don’t actively mimic anyone’s style. Much fail. And I don’t only mean because if they’re on a social Venn diagram with you, would likely recognize themselves in your stuff——

Takes a moment to wave to the peeps still trying with me! #bless your hearts

—–but because it’s fucking hard. I did it broadly on the noir thing, that’s not a hard thing, to homage generalities, but the way I’m messing with doing this on that silly Princess Bride series? Purposefully styling it like Goldman? It’s good challenging and all, and it is making it feel more in the groove with the book/movie, but I have to be in the right frame of mind or it’s like fingernails on a chalkboard, and when I have pushed it, then gone back, it’s sloggy, soggy garbage.

I say all that to say: it’s an amalgam of brain-wiring/personality, and world/life perspective(s), and knowledge acquired over time. The first just is; the second will evolve in myriad ways, maybe for the better, maybe for the worse; the last is the one where you/we have control, we can fill bucket after bucket of information, and the well won’t ever run dry.

Sorry this took so long. I kept adding and subtracting. This is the edited version, if you can believe it. Welcome to Nash Brain. 😉

#Dear Nash #becominglionhearted #Writing Advice #and / or #Writing Stuff #maybe #Writing Tips #unsure #we'll go with all of it #ah I know #Writing Style #that's the ticket #Queueby Dooby Doo #Dad's on a blog post and #he hasn't been queued in a few days

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auroraphilealis · 7 years

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Heaven Scent Chapter Eight

Heaven Scent | Dan Howell rarely leaves the house unless he has too, too socially awkward to function normally around other people, and generally making his only friends through Louise, a sweet beta who took him under her wing a few years back when they were both still in college. It’s no surprise, then, that the omega has yet to find a mate, despite craving one rather a lot. It’s not until he attends Louise’s birthday party and gets accidentally-on-purpose set up with an attractive alpha named Phil Lester who smells absolutely heavenly that Dan starts to fall into a proper romance, complete with courting and scenting and the like. | Phan | Mature | A/B/O dynamics (Omegaverse fic), Fluff, Getting Together, Eventual Smut, Courting | 7,465 Words this chapter

Disclaimer: In no way do I pretend that this is real or cast aspersions on Dan or Phil.

Hello my friends! Ahhh, this is the final chapter of Heaven Scent, and I can’t believe it’s ended up quite as long as it appears to have :O In three weeks, I’ve managed to write 57K words, and to top it all off, this is the first chaptered fic I’ve completed on my own in at least 4 years, if not more, so… to say I’m proud of myself would be a complete and utter understatement.

Thank you to everyone whose supported this story since day one, when I first started writing it, and when I first started posting. It’s meant the world to me to have people so excited to see a story that defies the norm of what this trope usually is. Thank you as well to every person who has left a comment, or messaged me to show me their support and to tell me that this is the first time they’ve enjoyed this trope, as that is all I’ve ever wanted to do with this fic.

I’m so sad to see this ending, but all great things must come to an end, I’m afraid. I hope to eventually do a semi-sequel including some mpreg, for those who are interested, but I do start school again in 3 days, so I can’t promise when or if that sequel will appear <33 Still, maybe look out for it <33

This chapter does contain smut and sexual situations, so please read the second half in particular with caution. I promise you’ll know when it’s coming.

(Ao3) (Previous)

Chapter Eight

As promised, Phil texted Dan the entire time he was having his heat.

At first, it was silly things like “i forgot to find the rest of my underwear, im gonna have to do laundry every day now”, and “i know you told me not to forget anything but all my most important things are all in your flat :’(,” both of which made Dan laugh and his heart clench up in happiness to know that Phil’s entire life had pretty much already migrated into Dan’s flat.

After the first few hours, though, while Dan was in-between flare up’s and munching on power bars, they become more sentimental and funny, more similar to what Phil used to text Dan back at the very beginning of their relationship mixed with corny love struck texts that reflected their emotions from tonight. They were everything Dan could have ever asked for and more, and they truly made this heat the best that Dan had ever experienced.

From: Phil Lester <3

i miss you already :’( do you miss me?

From: Phil Lester <3

part of me wishes id stayed, but im glad were waiting

From: Phil Lester <3

look at this dog i saw on my facebook feed. when are we gonna adopt? :’D

From: Phil Lester <3

i found this jacket you might like and i might have already bought it, oops

From: Phil Lester <3

the new youtube red short film im editing -- we have to watch it together when its out, okay??? i think youll love it!!

From: Phil Lester <3

thinking of you :’(

The last one came with an attached photo of Phil’s face, smiling delicately at Dan like he was unsure if he should be sending it all, and yet it made Dan feel warm to the core on the second afternoon of his heat. He hadn’t realized just how badly he’d needed the picture until he was staring at it, fingers fisted around his cock while his core fluttered around nothing and slick dripped from between his legs.

Dan could feel his insides aching as he sunk his fingers back into himself and dropped the phone, flinging his head backwards on a ragged moan as he pressed in deep and gave himself everything he wanted. There was an abandoned vibrator at his side that he’d given up on in preference of pretending his own fingers where Phil’s, and he felt so fucking good that he came almost instantly after pressing against his g-spot, collapsing backwards into a pile of pillows that smelled like Phil.

Phil, Phil, Phil, he was all Dan could think about, and he gasped and moaned as he writhed in his nest, soaking in the fact that everything smelt like alpha. Never before had Dan felt so good, and while he was a mix of exhausted and bored when he wasn’t in the midsts of heat waves pressing into his tummy and begging Dan to get pregnant, he was also content, because for the first time in his life, Dan had a partner to think of while he went through this.

Not to mention, when he was finished, he had a standing date with Phil to finally have sex, something he couldn’t stop thinking of.

How many times now had he rutted against Phil’s cock and felt the outline of the alpha, hot and long in his jeans? How many times had he pressed in close and felt that bulge, body reacting in desperate want to have it inside already? Phil’s mouth was pure heaven on Dan’s lips, and he couldn’t even begin to imagine how it was going to feel everywhere else, but he wanted it. He wanted it more than he wanted anything in the world, and as the image of Phil biting into his scent gland, bonding him, sunk into Dan’s mind, he came with an explosive call of the alpha’s name, knuckle deep into his core once more, and hand fisted tight around his dick.

Dan didn’t know what was better, the image, or the sensation, and he gasped as he rocked into himself, desperate for Phil, soaked in sweat and slick, wishing the alpha was there to clean him up.

The memory of him would have to be enough for now. Dan just knew he couldn’t wait until he could finally have the love of his life in every way.

On the fourth morning after Phil had left Dan’s side, Dan woke up exhausted, but okay. The heat cramps had dissipated, and the desperate arousal that had made his skin thrum for the past three days was finally gone. His cock was soft and limp against his thigh, and while his insides throbbed from being used and abused so much, the slick had pretty much stopped, and he wasn’t clenching desperately around nothing anymore.

He was, however, covered in slick, and fully aware that the entire walk-in he’d sequestered himself in smelled like nothing but heat and omega pheromones. Dan was willing to bet his entire flat was tinged with the scent as well, but while Dan knew he was going to have to get up eventually and clean the whole mess up, he was mostly just relieved.

Heat’s were amazing, don’t get Dan wrong. He actually really enjoyed them, and while spending a heat with a partner was always going to be better than spending it alone, Dan had yet to meet an omega who actually complained about their heat when they came less often than seven-ish times a year. Sure, they were long, often boring, and sometimes painful, but the chance to take time off and feel flushed with pleasure for three days wasn’t something to gawk at. Most omega’s enjoyed the time to feel extra pleasured, and when it came time to get pregnant and have babies, most seemed to feel euphoric.

Dan couldn’t wait to one day experience that, but not until he and Phil were ready.

No, Dan was relieved that his heat was over because it meant he’d finally get to have Phil back in his home, and he’d honestly desperately missed the alpha since he’d been gone.

Dan’s body was sore, he was tired of living off of protein bars and water, and he wanted Phil home, but he didn’t so much mind that he’d just spent three days essentially pleasuring himself to the mental image of Phil.

The fact that Phil was going to be the one pleasuring him the next time, though… well, that was enough to get Dan out of his nest and cleaning up.

The nest went first. With his heat over, and his hormones back to normal, Dan didn’t crave the safety of the little den any longer. He pulled it apart, sheets first, to start setting them in the wash with a special, slick dispelling soap. Then, he made two more piles by the washer and dryer; one full of the duvets he’d used up, and another full of the clothing he’d eventually need to return to Phil, as well as his own that he’d need to hang back up.

Once that was mostly taken care of, Dan took the more non-cloth like items such as his teddy bear, and his toys, into the bathroom to manually clean of his scent. The teddy bear, Dan knew, would have to air out for the most part, as he’d used it for nearly every single one of his heats in the past, but it hardly mattered. If it was left in the bathroom, it shouldn’t bother anyone too much.

His toys, on the other hand, needed to be properly washed and sanitized before Dan put them away, and his fingers were deft and quick against the malleable plastic. He’d cleaned them a thousand times in the past, and he had no desire to linger over them now when he had something much more pleasant coming for him tonight.

Just the thought made Dan grin and groan a little, low in his throat. He’d lived off the image of Phil fucking him for three days, now. The idea of it finally happening was making him wet, and he had to tighten his legs a bit to prevent the slick from getting everywhere.

On the upside, it didn’t smell quite as arousing as heat-slick did, and reassured Dan that he was most definitely finished with that part of his life for now. No, any arousal Dan felt now was purely his own, and not instinct. He couldn’t wait until Phil got home.

By the time Dan had finished cleaning and airing out his apartment, a second load of duvets in the washer, it was nearing six o’clock. Phil didn’t tend to get off and home until closer to nine, but Dan hadn’t yet texted him it was safe to come back to Dan’s, and his heart was racing in his chest at the very idea of it all. He could feel his insides sopping with slick already, desperate for something Dan had been waiting months to have, and he scolded himself a little for getting overly excited.

What if Phil had changed his mind? What if he wanted to wait a little longer before they had sex? Dan could and would understand that, never wanting to push the alpha past his boundaries, but he needed to get his body under control before he lost his mind completely and demanded Phil come home and fuck him already.

Settling back on the couch, Dan finally relaxed and picked up his phone.

Phil had been texting him all day, the same as he had the past three - little nonsense words about what was going on, and pictures of things that had reminded Phil of Dan. There was even another selfie of Phil frowning at the camera, captioned with how he reacted to his coworkers being absolute idiots, and it made Dan laugh and sigh happily as he fingered his phone in his hands.

Phil Lester was everything that Dan had ever wanted, and he still couldn’t figure out how he’d gotten so lucky.

To: Phil Lester <3

De-heat-afied the flat. Come home? :(

From: Phil Lester <3

home? :’D

To: Phil Lester <3

well, you said it yourself. you practically live here now. so yeah… come home

From: Phil Lester <3

be there in twenty minutes

There was no mention of their plans in the quick five minute conversation. They didn’t discuss what Dan was hoping was going to happen. They didn’t talk about missing each other, or the I-love-you’s, or anything else that had happened since the last time they’d seen each other, and yet, it didn’t seem to matter to Dan.

Phil had called his flat home, had joked about it being something more to him than just Dan’s flat, and had spent a good portion of Dan’s heat complaining that all of his things were at Dan’s. Phil had promised to be home nearly three hours before he normally got off work, and that… that was everything to Dan.

Just knowing that Phil already considered Dan’s home, home too, and that he’d missed Dan enough to leave work early, that was everything to Dan, who couldn’t seem to stop it when he started to purr and fell backwards on his couch to lay against the cushions with stars in his eyes. His heart was beating frantically in his chest, aching in a way that made Dan want to burst with how much he loved Phil Lester.

Never… never in his life had he felt so treasured and so wanted. It didn’t matter, in that moment, if they had sex that night. It didn’t matter, because Dan already had everything he’d ever wanted.

Ever the gentleman - or just a dork, Dan wasn’t sure - Phil knocked on the front door when he arrived.

Dan knew it was him because he’d be able to pick up Phil’s scent from anywhere by now, and he rolled his eyes at the sound because Phil had long since been given a key, but he didn’t complain as he stood and hurried to his front door, desperate to see his alpha again. His fingers were slippery on the doorknob, but he managed to pull it open, and was taken by surprise when the first thing he saw was another huge bouquet of wild flowers completely obscuring his view of Phil.

“I - what?” Dan stuttered, blushing a deep red at the notion of getting flowers again, like they were back in the beginning days and Phil was still trying to court him. He could feel his breathing had picked up, and he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips, nor the way he seemed to melt into himself a little. It was such a silly, unnecessary gesture, and yet Dan was living for it.

“Phil,” he whispered, as he reached out to take the bouquet at the same time as Phil chuckled at him. His fingers tightened around the purple paper that was wrapped around the bouquet as he pulled it in close, for one second completely captivated by the scent and sight of the flowers. Then, he turned his gaze completely towards Phil, only to be faced with a look of complete and utter self-satisfaction painted across his features.

Dan was certain that he probably looked entirely enamoured.

“I hate you,” Dan muttered, and dropped the flowers to his side, taking two steps forward and pressing in close to nuzzle into his alpha. Phil chuckled again and wrapped his arms instantly around Dan, like he couldn’t help himself, and buried his face in Dan’s hair. “You didn’t have to,” Dan added for good measure as he inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of his alpha and wishing desperately to bury himself in him entirely.

“I did,” Phil murmured in response, his hands soothing against Dan’s back, scenting him unobtrusively. He breathed deeply against Dan’s hair, like he wanted to saturate Dan in Phil, and then pressed a kiss delicately to the top of his head. “I wanted to give you something special because - because I missed you,” he added, laughing at himself and hugging Dan a little tighter for a moment. “Can you really blame me?”

Dan chuckled as well, and shook his head, eyes a little wet as he pressed his face against Phil.

“No. I can’t. I missed you too,” he shot back, and sighed when Phil rumbled in response, the sound pleasant and warm as it soaked into Dan.

He’d missed this so much, more than he could say. He could spend hours just cuddling with Phil, wrapped up in his scent, and the long three days apart had felt like an eternity when Dan had spent the entire time imagining Phil was with him, in bed. Dan hadn’t even gotten to experience that yet, and it had been amazing. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like when…

His face grew a deeper red as his body started to react in tandem with his thoughts.

Dan shifted against Phil, trying to hide the fact that he was growing hard, only for Phil to draw him in closer and inhale deeply.

“I think we should get inside,” the alpha rumbled, his voice all deep and husky, the way it only ever seemed to get when he was taken slightly by instinct, when he was hard and wanting for Dan. The sound made Dan shudder and mewl, pressing in closer to Phil despite the fact that the alpha had suggested otherwise, and he pressed tentative, needy kisses against Phil’s chest.

“We probably should,” Dan agreed after a second, mind a little hazy.

He tried to pull back from Phil, but for a moment, the alpha wouldn’t let him go. His hands tightened around Dan, holding him closer, and then relaxed completely as Phil sighed. Not wanting to test the limits of Phil’s self control, Dan hurriedly stepped out of his arms, and turned on his heel to head straight for the kitchen, some part of his brain still very aware that he had a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

The sound of his front door shutting behind him was eerily reminiscent of the time Phil had showed up at Dan’s house that second time, and when the alpha’s footsteps carefully followed Dan into the kitchen, he felt a shiver rush up his spine.

Dan didn’t want to rush into this though, and while he was trembling with want, he turned, dropped the bouquet on his counter, and stared up at Phil with needy eyes.

“Alpha,” he managed, swallowing thickly when this made Phil’s pupils dilate. His hands were in fists at his sides, like he was trying to control himself, and it was like dynamite in Dan’s veins. He could feel himself beginning to grow wet, to throb with desire, because he hadn’t once seen Phil lose control in Dan’s presence just yet.

Dan wondered if Phil was just finally at the end of his rope, and couldn’t help throbbing in reaction to that.

Phil inhaled deeply, and shut his eyes.

“Look,” Dan insisted, “I know you said - before my heat, you said you’d only been waiting for the right time, but I don’t want to rush this. If you still aren’t… aren’t ready, that’s fine, Phil. When we said after, I didn’t mean it had to be immediately after,” he explained, trying to maintain his breathing and not make it anymore obvious just how desperate he was for the alpha. He’d been waiting so long, though, ready and willing to be taken and marked and claimed. His veins trembled with it, heart beating erratically in his chest. All Dan wanted was to know what Phil was like, what he tasted like, how he’d treat Dan…

He moaned before he could stop himself.

“Dan,” Phil gasped, sounding just as desperate and willing as Dan. “I want this. I want you. I’ve wanted you since day one, I just didn’t want to screw things up. Please… you’ve been all I’ve been able to think about since that night. I need you to tell me now if you’ve changed your mind. I want… I want to finally have this with you.”

His eyes were sad, and though his hands were still clenched into fists at his sides, like he was holding himself back from pouncing on Dan, he seemed to be trying to pull himself together, reign in his desire so that he could do what Dan wanted, what Dan needed, whatever that might be.

The sight of Phil’s self restraint… it broke Dan, and he launched himself into the alpha’s arms without a second thought.

For a second, Dan wondered if this was all because of his heat. Did he smell of pheromones? Were they screwing with Phil’s head? Had he not gotten rid of the scent quite enough, or was he still in heat? But no, as Dan inhaled deeply, mind dizzy with his want for Phil, he became very aware that there was next to no heat pheromones in his apartment, and those that were there, weren’t enough to drive either of them as crazy as they seemed to be just then.

Dan’s mouth came down on Phil’s, and he whispered out a soft, “I’m ready,” that seemed to be everything both male’s finally needed to break the long standing truce they’d held for months, now. Dan mewled, Phil growled, and suddenly, Dan was completely and utterly wrapped up in long-limbed alpha.

Phil’s mouth was warm as ever. Despite the way Dan could feel Phil rapidly losing control, he kissed just as sweet and as passionately as he ever had, licking and sucking at Dan’s mouth and nipping gently at his lips. When he pressed in deep, he did so in a way that felt all consuming and heated, and yet gentle at the same time. His hands embraced Dan’s body and pressed Dan close, but he didn’t crush them together the way Dan had known partners to do in the past. He just cradled Dan close with a pressure that made Dan feel wanted, but not suffocated, and kissed him until Dan was absolutely aching for more.

They were both making ridiculous noises. Dan couldn’t seem to stop purring on and off, little mewls and sighs escaping his throat, all while a rumble took up in Phil’s chest and echoed inside of Dan’s body. Dan’s hands buried themselves under Phil’s shirt, finally feeling safe enough to touch skin he’d ached to see for ages, all while Phil’s hands seemed to stutter up and down Dan’s back, unsure where they wanted to land.

It felt wonderful, and as Dan grinded his hips forwards, only to find Phil’s answering arousal there ready to meet him, he wanted nothing more than to take this to the bed.

So he did.

Dragging his mouth from Phil’s with a loud gasp, Dan pulled back against his touch, and felt a zing go through him at the ease with which Phil let him go. Phil’s eyes were half lidded and dark, the blue something different now, overblown with black and such a thin line it made it look even more intense. His mouth was wet from Dan’s kisses, and his hands were shaking at his sides, hips undulating slightly.

He looked absolutely wrecked, and the fact that Dan had done that to him, made him ache with need.

“Come on,” he insisted to Phil, taking his hand in his and tugging him hurriedly into the bedroom.

There were new sheets on the bed that didn’t smell like Phil anymore because Dan had washed them, but neither male seemed to care as they entered the room, eyes only for each other. Dan kept tugging at Phil’s hand, turning him until the alpha was doing what he wanted, and then pushed the male back against their bed until he was splayed out with his legs spread and hanging off the edge of the bed.

He looked so good like that, that Dan couldn’t help but to stop and stare. He’d wanted this for so long, wanted to have and see and hold Phil like this, eat him up and feel him intimately against Dan, and now that he was getting just that, Dan wasn’t sure where to start.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, “Phil. You look really hot like that,” he gasped, and found himself stepping forward instantly. Phil chuckled in response, smiling at Dan, and reached out with shaking hands to take Dan into his arms.

“Thanks,” he grumbled, voice so fucking deep and hot. “Now come here. I wasn’t quite done kissing you,” he teased.

How was Dan supposed to deny a request like that?

Without hesitating, Dan stepped forward and crawled onto the bed with Phil, pleased when the alpha scooted back so his legs no longer dangled off the side, and shifted his own legs to bracket on either side of Phil’s hips. Phil’s hands came up to press under the edge of Dan’s shirt, for the very first time touching Dan’s actual skin, and Dan purred as he leaned in close for another kiss.

Their lips pressed together just as needily as before, but it was the progression of Phil’s hands that really got Dan going. He rucked up Dan’s shirt without a care in the world, his hands so cold and yet hot against Dan’s skin, painting circles into his flesh and skating up his back to feel the outline of his shoulder blades. Phil had touched him a thousand times in the past, but never quite like this, never flesh on flesh, and when his hands skated back down to count against the bones of Dan’s spine, he shivered and moaned into Phil’s mouth so loud, Phil actually groaned in reaction.

“You sure your heat is over, Dan?” Phil wondered, disconnecting their mouths to laugh at Dan, “Cause you are… really, really reactive,” he added wonderingly, eyes sparkling and lips quirked in mischief. Dan leaned forward to kiss him hungrily again, his own hands moving to ruck up Phil’s shirt, exposing the alpha’s belly and sides, and tucking just under his armpits.

“I’m sure. I’m always loud,” he teased Phil when he pulled away from his lips, only to stare in wonder at the dark, dusky peaks of Phil’s nipples and the tangle of chest hair now exposed to him.

Phil’s chest was red, flushed with desire as he shuddered under Dan’s touch, who sat up on Phil’s hips to press his hands all over Phil’s exposed body. His bum rested just over the alpha’s straining dick, but Dan did nothing in reaction to it, merely smoothing his fingers around nipples and chest hair, plucking at plump skin, and watching the way Phil’s body reacted under his.

Phil never once took his eyes off of Dan, watching the way he touched, and licked his lips. Dan’s own gaze kept flicking up to Phil’s, until Dan couldn’t take it any longer, and he leaned down to bite a mark into Phil’s chest, just under his ribcage, sucking hungrily and claiming the alpha as his. He felt his scent shift to permeate over Phil’s skin, and groaned at the way Phil growled at him, fingers coming down to tangle in Dan’s hair. Dan merely sucked and bit harder, eyes closing in wonderment at the fact that he was finally getting to do this, and shifted to ruck his shirt up enough that he could pull it completely away when he pulled back from Phil’s rib cage.

He did, tossing his shirt over his shoulder and watching the way Phil’s eyes instantly moved to his exposed skin to trace over his chest.

“I want you, Alpha,” Dan whispered, “Want all of you. Want you to mark me all over,” he groaned, reaching down to press his hand against the bruise now forming on Phil’s stomach, and gasping at the way Phil growled and rolled his hips up into Dan’s ass in response. His cunt clenched around nothing slick beginning to dribble down until Dan could feel that he was getting soaked, and he groaned, throwing his head back in a way he hoped would be enticing.

“Take me, Alpha,” Dan said again, hoping this time, Phil would get the message.

He did.

While there were so many things Dan wanted to do with Phil, so much time he wanted to spend pinning the alpha to his bed, rutting down against him, and riding the cock Dan had been craving for so long, he wanted this even more - Phil taking control and making Dan feel like heaven had come to Earth early. The alpha flipped them, pressing Dan into the bed, and surging in to kiss Dan all over again.

His hands burned as they skated over Dan’s ribcage, playing at the waistband of his pants, and smoothing back up to tweak at Dan’s sensitive nipples. His own chest wasn’t quite as flat as Phil’s, filled with more fat to make room for breasts that would form should Dan get pregnant, and Phil seemed to love the swell of them, pressing the flesh up and into his palm as he groaned into Dan’s mouth. His hips rutted down into Dan’s, pressing their cocks against each other through their pants, and making Dan’s body shudder for more.

He could scent the smell of slick taking over the room, sweet and heady, as could Phil, as he pulled away from Dan’s lips and snuffle at his neck. His hands moved from cupping at Dan’s small breasts to instead rub between his legs, where the slick was pouring free, and rumbled against Dan’s neck.

“Shit. I forgot - how warm, and wet omega’s get,” he gasped against Dan’s neck. “You’re so beautiful Dan, and you smell amazing,” he groaned, nuzzling in close once more before his lips came down to suck around Dan’s scent glands.

Dan arched into the touch, moaning loudly, and rutted his body down against Phil’s searching hands as the alpha came so close to bonding them. He didn’t bite, however, not the way Dan had imagined he would - instead, he sucked, and licked, and kissed at the small spot until he seemed to have coated it in his scent so thoroughly he might as well have bit down, and then pulled away to hum against Dan’s mouth, nose rubbing gently along Dan’s.

Dan opened his eyes to find the alpha was staring at him with such need and love in his gaze, Dan nearly melted.

“Wanna bond with you one day. Wanna mark you for the world to see… but not today,” he explained, and kissed Dan leisurely one more time.

His hands had moved from between Dan’s legs, to his thighs, were he massaged the clothed skin through Dan’s sweat pants, and smoothed his fingers against him. It felt so good that Dan shuddered as Phil kissed him, licking into his mouth as gently as he always did, before pulling away.

“But I’m going to mark you in every other way,” Phil continued after a moment, the words gravely in his husky voice, eyes dark. They sent a thrill through Dan who threw his head back and moaned as Phil leaned in close and nipped at his collarbones, proceeding to decorate Dan’s chest in light hickeys and bruises that made Dan’s core tingle. He didn’t know what was throbbing worse - his dick, or his cunt; all he knew was that he wanted more.

Phil’s mouth came around Dan’s nipple, and it was better than he’d ever imagined. Phil suckled at the swell of Dan’s almost-breast, needy and wanton as he kissed and bit at it, tangling his tongue around as if he were searching for something more than just breast. The mental image of Phil suckling at Dan��s milk-wet breasts while he was pregant made Dan groan and spend pre-cum from his dick rutting up as Phil chuckled against him.

Then, he pulled back from Dan’s nipple to suck at the skin around it, marking Dan as his, before trailing further downward and marking Dan’s stomach as well.

As Phil moved, mouth hot and hands burning against his skin, Dan couldn’t help feeling like he was going to go crazy. Phil was better than Dan had ever imagined he could be, more slick and warm than anyone else Dan had ever had. He mouthed along Dan’s bellybutton, tongue fucking him there, and giving Dan a taste of what he could do, and then he was nibbling at Dan’s hip bones as his fingers played with the waistband of Dan’s pants.

Meanwhile, the alpha still hadn’t taken off his shirt, and Dan growled as he sat up and pushed the tease away from him.

“Strip,” he demanded, as his own hands pushed at the waistband of his pants, his boxers, slipping them free from and releasing the full scent of his slick into the air.

Dan could see how it was effecting Phil as the alpha clambered off of Dan to do as he’d been told, stripping first his work shirt, and then his belt from his jeans. For a second, Dan could imagine Phil tying him up with that, and then the moment was gone as Phil struggled with his jeans.

Dan reached down to stroke his hand over his cock as Phil undressed, eyes on nothing more than the great reveal of the alpha cock he’d been waiting for, and then it was there, far more glorious even then Dan had ever imagined it could be. It sprang free of his boxers as Phil scrambled out of them, hard and heavy as it bobbed between his legs, only a bit bigger than Dan’s omega one.

Alphas were always just a bit bigger, more than average, to accommodate for the knot that would settle at the base of their dick, but Dan was by no means small. In fact, he was proud of the fact that his own dick rested pale and thick against his tummy as Phil hungrily climbed back over him.

What he wasn’t expecting, was the way Phil instantly delved in to take Dan’s cock into his mouth, pleasuring Dan in a way he’d never quite experienced before - cool fingers pressed between the lips of his cunt, playing lightly with the flaps and the slick there as his mouth worked diligently and hotly over Dan’s cock. His tongue swirled over Dan’s tip, and his throat constricted around his dick as he took Dan as far as he could, fingers making Dan’s core ache with need where they played.

Phil was inhaling Dan’s scent deeply as Dan groaned underneath his touch, bucking almost wildly against Phil but trying his best to keep his body sated and still.

Dan was amazed he could want so much when he’d only just finished his heat, but he didn’t complain as Phil pressed a teasing fingers inside of Dan at the same time as he pulled back from Dan’s dick and grinned up at him.

“You taste better than I ever imagined,” Phil rumbled, “Better than anyone I’ve ever had. My mate,” he continued, leaning in to slurp up Dan’s cock all over again. Dan gasped, and groaned against the words, the sensations, as Phil pressed the finger in deeper, exploring and taking all that Dan had.

He felt so good, so much better than Dan himself, better than any toy, but it was his words that got Dan.

Phil pulled off his dick again with another hot pop.

“I wonder how good your slick will taste,” he said, and ducked in close to close his mouth around Dan’s cunt and suck.

It was… not something Dan had quite been ready for. He’d considered the chance that his alpha would want to put his mouth there as well as Dan’s cock, had considered that his alpha might give him everything, but Dan hadn’t truly expected so soon. The sensation of Phil’s mouth sucking at his cunt, lapping at his slick, all while his finger remained pressed inside of Dan… it was the best feeling Dan had ever experienced, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that he came almost instantly when Phil pressed his tongue inside as well and slurped at Dan’s body, swallowing all that Dan had to give in the most obviously pleased ministration ever, rumbling in a pleased way.

Dan’s cock shook, and he came, gasping as cum dripped all over his abdomen while his cunt clenched up and scent a rush of slick down and out of him, straight into Phil’s mouth.

Dan shuddered as pleasure overtook him, crashing over his mind and making him cry out as his hips shook. Phil, meanwhile, didn’t stop pressing in deeper, sucking at all Dan had to give him, arching his finger and pressing against Dan’s walls in a way that made him feel like he was never going to stop coming.

His face screwed up, and his legs tensed as he came, Phil groaning for more and likely throbbing below Dan.

Dan wanted so much more.

By the time Dan had come down from his high, Phil was still fingering him lightly, but his mouth had moved from Dan’s cunt to his stomach where he was lapping gently at Dan’s skin, clearing him of spunk and rumbling happily. He had a pleased smile on his face, cock red and hard between his legs, but he didn’t seem to care for it at all as he moved his mouth to Dan’s dick and suckled gently at the head.

Dan let out a whimper at the sensation, and reached down to thread his fingers back through Phil’s black hair.

“Alpha,” he gasped, forcing the alpha’s gaze back onto him. “Fuck me. Now,” he demanded, watching as Phil reacted to the words in what seemed like slow motion. His expression turned from pleased, to dangerous, like he was losing his control, like he needed Dan as bad as Dan needed Phil.

It didn’t even matter that Dan had just come. He wanted Phil, and he wanted Phil now.

The alpha flat out growled at Dan’s demand, and shifted up on his knees as the finger inside of Dan started to work in earnest. Dan mewled at the way it felt, and grinned up at Phil in satisfaction, stretching his body out to show himself off completely. He arched his neck to set the alpha off more completely, and groaned when it caused Phil to press a second finger in needily.

“Fuck,” the alpha groaned. “I can’t wait to be inside of you, omega. Dan, god, you look so good,” he gasped, and leaned in close to nip at his neck.

He nuzzled it, licking over it again, as his fingers worked to spread Dan for him, even though Dan didn’t need it. He didn’t say a word, certain Phil was bigger than Dan was fully expecting, sure that Phil knew what he was doing, and waited as his body ached with pleasure, ready to come all over again.

“You’re cunt is so warm, Dan. So fucking warm. I forgot how good this could feel… I’ve wanted you so long,” Phil rumbled, mumbling the words against the shell of Dan’s ear, licking at the skin there and making Dan shudder all over again. He gasped at the words, arching his body up to Phil’s, and reached out with rough fingers to force Phil’s head close and kiss him.

“I’m ready,” he gasped after another minute, words muffled under Phil’s tongue, which was becoming far less composed as he usually was. He seemed unable to be as gentle as he wanted, and kissed and soothed at Dan’s mouth in apology. “Fuck me, now, Phil,” he continued, and laughed when a groan punched its way out of Phil’s throat in response.

The alpha didn’t hesitate. He pulled his fingers free from Dan’s body, and shifted so his cock bobbed between his legs and so close to Dan’s cunt, that his body clenched down at the thought of it. Dan was biting his bottom lip, and Phil was staring at him with eyes so bright and full of lust, it was amazing he hadn’t sunk all the way inside just yet.

Of course, that’s when Phil decided to take Dan completely by surprise when he said, “I love you, my Daniel,” before kissing him once more.

This time, his lips were not quite as heated. His touch was calmer, somehow, contrasting completely with the dark of his eyes mere seconds ago, but Dan didn’t even care. Somehow, this was better, so much fucking better, and even as Phil seemed to begin to lose himself again to the lust so obviously boiling over, he was gentle as his cock head nudged at Dan’s entrance and pressed inside.

Being fucked was… amazing. Being fucked by an alpha, was always particularly special.

Being fucked by Phil was like the beginning and end of the world.

He sunk in slow, cock pushing Dan’s body open, mouth panting against Dan’s lips. His chest was sweaty but perfect against Dan’s chest, flush to him as he worked to get his hips flush to Dan’s, groaning a little with each new inch Dan took. He didn’t rush, and he didn’t push, and he didn’t overwhelm Dan, but at the same time, he totally did.

Having sex with one’s mate was… more than Dan could have imagined.

There was just something about the intimacy, the care Phil put in his every movement, something about the fact that Phil had wanted to wait until just the right moment, that made everything about this seem almost otherworldly.

By the time Phil had settled all the way in, Dan knew he never wanted it to end.

“Phil,” he was gasping, the name chanting from his mouth over and over, and over again. “Phil, I love you,” he gasped at some point, the words lost to Phil’s mouth as he gasped against Dan, hips shifting but doing their best not to move just yet.

Their bodies fit together perfectly, a symphony seeming to rise in Dan, purrs escaping him and his heart beating fast in his chest. Phil was rumbling against him, scenting at his neck, licking over his skin, teasing with his teeth like he wanted to bite, but he didn’t.

There was a ringing inside of Dan’s ears, and then Phil whispered, “Mine,” all over again, and started to move.

Dan’s body surged upwards into Phil’s at the first drag of hot cock inside of his warm walls, his core singing as Phil’s body drove in and out of him. Phil was growling at Dan, mindless, hands clenched into Dan’s sides, fingernails biting into his skin, marking Dan all over again. His teeth were bared against Dan’s neck, little huffs escaping him as he moved, all while Dan keened and mewled, wrapping his entire body around Phil’s and drawing him close.

They moved together, as best they could. Dan’s movements were frantic, Phil’s bordering on out of control, and yet it was perfect. Everything about it was perfect, wonderful, amazing, and Dan’s heart sang as Phil held him and fucked him.

One hand sank between their bodies at one point, playing with Dan’s cock. Phil’s thumb stroked over the top, at the slit, pumping the foreskin up and down to give Dan more pleasure, and then Dan felt it - Phil was panting, his body seizing up, the fast but tempered paced he’d been setting falling apart in what seemed an instant. Something… something was nuding at Dan’s entrance, growing, popping, and Dan realized it was Phil’s knot.

The alpha was going to knot him, and the idea of it left Dan brain dead.

“Please!” he cried, body seizing up on his own desire to come, “Knot me, alpha, knot me!” he begged, body surging down on Phil’s cock, begging the knot to press inside, to push past the lips of his pussy and sink straight into him, locking them together for a few moments at least.

Phil grunted in response, licking desperately at Dan’s neck, and then he pushed Dan’s head to the side and bit suddenly and surprisingly into Dan’s shoulder.

The sensation stung, wasn’t anywhere near where Dan wished it would be, and yet he knew that Phil hadn’t been able to control himself but hadn’t wanted to make a mistake. While Dan mourned the loss of bonding pheromones that should have flooded him, he was pleased to know that Phil wouldn’t allow a night of passion to take the choice away from both of them, even if he knew they both wanted it more than anything.

The right time. They were waiting for the right time, not the first time they had sex, not Dan’s heat - the right time.

Phi’s knot suddenly popped in, and Dan cried out as his body was stretched further still. Phil’s cock practically exploded inside of him, hot cum filling him up, and Dan groaned at the sensation, body craving it as his cunt bared down to take it all, squeezing every lost drop from Phil’s cock.

Phil’s hips seized up, pumped twice more, stilled. His hand stuttered over Dan’s cock, and Dan came too, spunk once again painting its way up his chest as he gasped, fucked down on Phil’s cock and stilled too.

Phil collapsed on top of Dan with a gasp.

His teeth released Dan’s shoulder.

Dan nuzzled at the top of Phil’s hair, and thought, I could live with this, with a giddy little chuckle.

He never wanted to let Phil out of his life.

Afterwards, once they’d cleaned up and Phil had crawled into Dan’s bed stark naked to spoon against his back, Dan asked the question he’d been waiting a month to ask.

“Move in with me,” he said, voice soft, quite, a little hoarse. He was purring, the same he’d been pretty much since Phil had knotted him, pretty much since Phil had come into his life, and he didn’t even care that the words had come out more as a sleep demand.

Phil chuckled against his neck, and nuzzled in close, wet hair brushing against Dan’s bruised and aching shoulder.

He pressed a kiss against the nape of Dan’s neck, and sighed.

“I pretty much already have. I don’t see why we couldn’t make it official.”

The words made Dan grin, and he patted at Phil’s hands where it rested on Dan’s hip.

“Good. Cause I never want you to leave me again.”

Phil chuckled again.

“Never,” he promised and sealed it with one last kiss against Dan’s scent glands.

One day… he’d bite into that as well, and they’d be mated, forever.

Dan couldn’t wait.

But also, there was no hurry.

#phanfic #phanfiction #phanfictioncatalogue #snowbunnylester #omegaverse #heaven scent #phan #phandom

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lukin08 · 7 years

Text

A Major Life: San Diego

Rating: T (For some swearing)

Previous Chapters Here

A/N- So this one gets a little deeper into baseball than previous ones. Also, I edited out a bunch of parts that could show up in later in some snippets. The majority of it involved Kristoff’s family and I’m still thinking about it. Some useless knowledge, but in case you are interested, Kristoff has 5 siblings in this fic- an older brother, a younger biological sister who’s five years younger (Kiersten- she’s the only one actually mentioned specifically in this chapter), another sister who’s around three years younger than him, a brother in high school and his youngest sister, who will just be going into high school.

Adorable art from @kristannafever

“Kari! Get over here and give me a hug!”

Karoline was already wiggling out of Kristoff’s hold. She spotted Sven in the lobby before they walked through the main doors of the hotel. As soon as she was down, she raced over and Sven swept her up into his arms.

“I missed you so much!” Sven exclaimed.

Karoline was unusually quiet. It almost looked like she didn’t believe he was here. She put both hands on the side of Sven’s face and studied him. When she seemed satisfied that she was really seeing him in person, she moved her arms around Sven’s neck to hug him.

“I missed you too, sweetie,” Sven said, rubbing his hand over Karoline’s back.

Kristoff and Anna strolled up to where Sven was standing. Karoline caught sight of them and flashed the largest smile. “It’s Sven!”

Sven grinned at them and leaned down to give Anna a hug with his free arm. Then he quickly pulled Kristoff into a strong side hug.

“Nice whiskers,” Sven laughed when he got a good look at Kristoff after he let go of him.

“What?” Kristoff shrugged. “We went to the zoo. How can you go to the zoo and not get your face painted?”

Karoline grasped Sven’s cheeks and moved his head so he was looking directly at her. “I’m a peacock and mama is a zebra and daddy is big lion.”

Sven chuckled and Karoline’s excitement, finally noticing the colorful and much more elaborate whirls of paint than her parents had on the side of her face. “And who came up with those?”

“Me!” Karoline smiled proudly. All of the sudden, her face changed to a look of concern. After a moment, she patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry. You can be an animal too.” Karoline stopped, in deep thought until she grinned again. “I know. You can be a reindeer!”

“It fits you so well,” Kristoff said, with a smirk over at his friend.

“Hey,” Sven shot a look at Kristoff. “If Kari says I’m a reindeer, then I’ll proudly be one. …As long as there’s no face paint,” he quickly added.

“Alright missy.” Anna came up to the pair. “You are a sticky mess and mama’s tired. Time to get up to the room.”

Sven let out a small whine and jokingly stepped back.

“You aren’t helping,” Anna said shooting a teasing glare to Sven.

Kristoff placed his hand on Anna’s shoulder. “Go on up. I need to close out our bill and make sure our room switches over to the league’s account. I’ll bring her up with me.”

Anna smiled up at Kristoff and nodded. “Are we still seeing you for dinner?” Anna asked, turning back to look at Sven as she started to walk away.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Kristoff was already at the front desk when Sven came up to him. Karoline reached out for Kristoff and he took her from Sven.

“We have to pick up passes,” Sven said. “I came down to grab them. They are closing off our tower tomorrow. Players and guest only.”

“Oh?” Kristoff responded. “I’ve never stayed anywhere that did that before.”

Sven gave out a hearty laugh. “Welcome to the land of the big dogs my friend.”

The receptionist informed them the passes weren’t ready, but if they were willing to wait, they’d have them in a few minutes or they could send them up to the rooms. It wasn’t busy now and Karoline was starting to fall asleep in Kristoff’s arms, so the two decided to wait for a bit in the lobby.

“After dinner you owe me a beer,” Sven said sitting down in one of the chairs.

“I owe you a beer?” Kristoff sat down in the couch next him. Karoline was already sleeping and he adjusted her to make sure she’d be comfortable.

“Yes. I flew out here a day early to see you, it’s the least you can do to thank me.”

“I seem to remember it being your idea to meet us out here.”

Sven waved his hands out. “Minor details. But either way, are you up for a few later?”

“Of course. I just need to get Karoline settled first. I can’t miss story time.”

“You read to Kari every night?” Sven asked.

“It’s kind of our thing.”

Sven stretched, throwing his arms out. “I don’t think I’ve seen Anna in what? Two months? I was surprised when she said she was coming out.”

“There was no stopping her. The doctor said it was fine and it’s her choice to decide if she was up for going.”

“Well, she looks good. What’s the due date again?”

“September 23rd.”

Sven threw his head back and laughed. “Oh man are you two lucky! Right before the playoffs!” He stopped to look at Kristoff. “So what’s plan? And don’t say anything because we both know you’re going to win the division at the rate the teams going.”

“We’re home the last week of the season and I have permission to take off a couple days as long as we’ve already clinched. The team wants to rest the pitchers anyway as long as possible.”

“And how are you going to manage the post with a new baby in the house?”

“We have someone to help at night.” Kristoff paused searching for the name. “A night nurse I think it’s called, but I don’t really know. I had to sign an agreement with player relations that we’d hire one.”

“Oh wow. They aren’t kidding around.”

“It’s the playoffs. I’m not happy about not being able to help that much. But at least Anna can get some sleep, so I suppose it’s not the worst thing. Plus Anna’s sister is coming in for a bit and my mom will be there.”

Kristoff caught Sven grinning over at him. “What?”

“Kristoff Bjorgman, family man. It’s a good look on you.”

The desk clerk came over with the passes. On the way to the elevator Sven spoke again, his tone serious. “You seem to be in a good mood. Are you feeling better about things since the last time we talked?”

Once in the elevator, Kristoff answered him. “I’m here. I’m having a good time. This could be the only all-stars I ever go to and I’m going to enjoy it. We’ll see what happens in a few days when we’re all back. But I’m tired of the way that things have been. I’m done with everyone’s opinion on what I need to do or say or think for things to get better. I’m taking charge of my program and if I go down it’s going to be of my own accord, not bending and trying to change to what others think I need to do.”

The elevator opened and Sven stepped out. He turned around quickly, pointing at Kristoff and smiling as the door closed. “That’s the Bjorgman I know! I love it! We’ll talk more after dinner.”

On the other side of the door in their hotel room, Karoline was a fit of giggles. From the noise, Anna could make out Karoline and Kristoff were playing some game that involved him tossing her onto the bed repeatedly. Her laughter was pure joy and it made Anna smile as she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. She ran her fingers through her hair that was already parted into two sections.

Anna always braided her hair in some form whenever she went to see Kristoff play. It had been this way ever since they were first dating. Kristoff teased after one of the early games she attended that it must have been good luck since they won. Anna didn’t bother to mention that she only braided her hair that day because it was hot, but she wore it that way for the next several games she went to and the team kept winning and the tradition somehow stuck.

It hit her that Kristoff wasn’t even announced to play tonight. Why was she going through the motions? This was silly. A quirky superstition Kristoff had that carried no weight. She should just leave her hair down and stop wasting time worrying about something that was completely out of her control. But she couldn’t bring herself to move.

“Babe! I have to leave in 5 minutes. Are you almost done?” Kristoff’s voice broke through her thoughts making her jump.

“One second!” Anna called back. She looked in the mirror again and let out a sigh before straightening up. “Positive thoughts,” she said and quickly twisted her hair into two braids.

When she walked out into the room, Kristoff had Karoline upside down by her feet. She was telling him to let her go, but laughing in between.

“Hi mama,” Karoline said as Kristoff flipped her around so she could stand on the bed. “We were playing!”

“It sounded like you were having fun! Daddy has to leave now. Say goodbye and wish him good luck.”

Karoline jumped back into Kristoff’s arms and gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek. “Play good baseball, daddy.”

“Thanks, bug. I’ll see you after the game.”

Kristoff put Karoline down and she went to play with her toys at the table by the window. Anna watched Kristoff collect his things and followed him to the door. When he turned to Anna, she didn’t give him time get any words out. She reached up, placing both hands to his cheeks and pulled him down for a kiss. His body stiffened, surprised at the forcefulness of her lips, but he quickly relaxed and his hands fell to small of her back. Kristoff pulled her closer to him, matching the intensity of her kiss.

“What was that for?” Kristoff asked when the kiss ended. He kept his arms on her back, still holding her to him.

“That was because I love you.” Then Anna kissed him again. Kristoff let out a low hum as their lips met, massaging his fingers against her skin in response. When they stopped, Anna moved her eyes up to Kristoff, still in his embrace. “That one is for good luck.”

Kristoff looked down at Anna and moved his hand up to run his fingers along one of her braids. “Thank you,” he said softly. He looked as if he was about to say something more, but changed his mind.

They both reluctantly pulled away from each other. There wasn’t enough time for Anna to tell Kristoff how proud she was of him and for all the emotions threatening to pour out of her. All their struggles and sacrifices and countless times apart had led them here. Kristoff deserved this regardless of whether he played or not. She could tell him more tonight- would tell him- after the game, when the noise of fans were gone and all the excitement from the night died down and it was just the two of them again. When he’d look at her the same way he always did and she’d think it almost impossible to feel so loved.

Anna gained her composure and gave Kristoff a bright smile. “Be ready when they announce you. You better believe you’ll be able to hear my cheering across the stadium.”

“Wouldn’t doubt that for a second.” Kristoff bent down and gave Anna one last quick kiss. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” she said as he started to open the door. “Kristoff?”

“Hmm?”

“Promise me you’ll have fun tonight?”

He looked her square in the eyes and she could see the sincerity in them. “I promise. Now, I really have to leave. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Wait,” Anna said, reaching behind her neck and fumbling to remove her necklace. Kristoff gave her a confused look when she held out her hand to him.

He looked down at her palm. Anna could almost see his mind searching for what she wanted. Finally, understanding came over his face. Kristoff nodded his head a few times. He spread the fingers of his left hand and pulled off his wedding band, handing it over to Anna. “Keep it safe.”

“I always do.”

Anna threaded her necklace through the ring and handed the ends back to Kristoff so he could clasp it back around her neck. She spun around, grabbed his hand and kissed right next to where the scripted letter A was tattooed on his ring finger that he had gotten for all the times he couldn’t wear his ring when he played.

Then she lifted her head confidently at him. “Now get out of here,” she said pushing him playfully out the door.

Alright let’s do this. Let’s meet the National League All-Star team.

The announcer began introducing the players along the third base line in team order. Anna was seated fifteen rows back from the dugout surrounded by Kristoff’s family. Cliff sat next to her, as he always tended to do when they were at games together. To her right was Karoline and Kristoff’s sister, Kiersten. Everyone else was either sitting directly in front or back of her, with Bulda in the next row back, sitting alongside Sven’s parents.

Anna could see Kristoff scanning the crowd. He had an idea of where they were all sitting, but hadn’t placed them yet. She kept her focus on him, inching forward on her seat in anticipation as the announcer got closer to his name. Then he found her, holding his gaze on Anna right before his name was called.

From the Chicago Cubs, Kristoff Bjorgman

Kristoff lifted his hat to the applause as Anna and the group around her all jumped to their feet and screamed as loud as they all could in the short moment before the announcer moved to the next player. Anna caught Kristoff’s chuckle at their antics before he tipped his head down so the cameras wouldn’t catch him laughing.

It wasn’t long before the starting line-up was called and Anna was once again on her feet.

Batting second, Third baseman from the St. Louis Cardinals, Sven Olsen.

Sven ran out and lined up with the rest of the starters. After the other starters were called, the teams scattered to their sides in preparation of the first inning. Anna followed Kristoff walking to the bull pen until he disappeared from sight. She settled in, ready to watch Sven and hoping beyond hope she’d see Kristoff on the pitcher’s mound sometime tonight.

Sitting in the bullpen really wasn’t as bad as Kristoff imagined. The atmosphere was light and all the guys seemed to be in a good mood. Even better was one of his teammates also made the cut and Kristoff was able to sit by him for a bit.

He thought he’d be more uncomfortable sitting around during the game, itching to get out there and throw. But he kept his focus on his overall experience. He was able to get some long tosses in yesterday during the All-Star workout for the media and simply being on the field amongst the best of his peers was satisfying enough for him.

Three days from now everything would start to count again. He was determined to go into the second half of the season with a different mindset. No longer was he going to try to conform to what everyone else thought he needed to fix or change or do. Regardless of the outcome, the next days and weeks were going to be on his terms. He could live with what happened then. He would be in control.

Kristoff was so wrapped up in his thoughts he didn’t notice how fast they were going through pitchers. Usually the second and third pitchers each got two innings, but they had both come and gone in one. It was already coming up to the sixth inning now and they had gone through five guys.

“Bjorgman! You’re up! Inning after next. Go warm up.”

Kristoff’s head snapped up at the pitching coach, who had just finished with the call from the dugout. The coach caught his confusion and added. “The outcome of this game could mean something to you. Go have a say in how one the innings will turn out.”

His mind was racing. Kristoff didn’t even remember grabbing his glove, yet somehow it was in his hand and he was stepping up to the rubber in the bullpen to start his warm up. Everything was moving too fast and this wasn’t going to go well if he couldn’t get himself under control quickly.

Kristoff took a step back from the mound, closing his eyes, and concentrating on getting his breathing regulated. There wasn’t much time so Kristoff focused in on what he needed to do. One inning, three outs. That was all. He went through an abbreviated visualization of his pitches, pushing out all other thoughts. Kristoff opened his eyes and stepped back up to the mound. One inning, three outs.

The only stakes in the game tonight was home field advantage in the World Series for the winning league. But for Kristoff, it meant everything. He was going to show everyone he deserved to be here, that his run wasn’t over and he was one of the pitchers to be feared again. He was going to make every hitter that stepped up to the plate the next inning wish they hadn’t gone up against him tonight.

One inning, three outs. He was completely in his zone when he reached his hand up to kiss the A on his finger. He pulled his glove on and held it out for the catcher to toss him the first ball.

Anna flopped down in her seat, just coming back from talking to one of the wives from Kristoff’s old team. She probably wasn’t paying as much attention to the game as she should be, but she had at least caught all of Sven’s at bats and was watching enough to prove it to Sven when he’d ask her about it later tonight. Karoline was sitting on Bulda’s lap. She’d been so wonderful tonight; cheering whenever she saw Sven and occupying the rest of her time being entertained by one of Kristoff’s siblings.

The inning changed over without Anna even glancing up. She was turned to Kiersten who was talking a mile a minute about one of the players she met the night before during the friends and family time on the field before the home run derby. He texted her before the game and Anna completely loved the sparkle in Kiersten’s eyes. It amused her to no end thinking about how Kristoff would react to hearing any of this. He definitely wouldn’t be happy about it, but Kiersten was 21, going on 22 and could make her own decisions.

“Anna.”

Still engrossed in the conversation, she didn’t hear her name.

“Anna.”

Cliff lightly shook her shoulder to get her attention. Anna twisted her body to him and was met with a giddy expression on his face. “Anna, look!” he said, pointing over to the bullpen.

It was difficult to see at this angle and with the fencing up, but she instantly recognized Kristoff throwing. Anna shot up, trying to get a better view. She could tell right away how he was if she could see his face. Somewhere from behind a voice yelled at her to sit down, but all she could do was wave her hand behind her as she continued her laser focus at the bullpen.

“Anna, sit,” Cliff said. He tugged on her arm enough to get her to comply. He placed an earbud in her hand and his phone screen was in her face. At first Anna tried to bat it away but she finally looked at the game streaming on his phone and saw there was a close up of Kristoff warming up. She shoved the earbud in her ear to catch what was being said.

Kris Bjorgman from Chicago is getting loose. He’ll be the 6th pitcher tonight for the National League.

“He’s okay,” Anna said to herself after getting a good look at him. “He’s ready!” she exclaimed to Cliff with relief in her voice.

Cliff put his arm around Anna. “Come on bud. Show’em what you can do,” he said, looking out to the bullpen

The next outs dragged on until finally there was a pop fly caught ending the inning and the teams switched. Anna’s hand flew up to her mouth when she saw Kristoff jogging from the back of the outfield. She was transfixed on his every move, searching for any signs that this outing would be good or not. This was supposed to be a fun game designed to entertain the fans. But Anna knew all eyes from the team owners, managers, coaches and GMs were on Kristoff and they were ready to pick apart every pitch.

Everything went quiet when Kristoff stepped over the baseline. It was a good sign. Lately, he could hear the crowds when he pitched, his mind unable to tune them out. All the noise got to him, distracting him from his pitches. He didn’t hear anything in the stands now; only the voices from the infielders and dugout were in clear focus. Every subtle movement, kick at the dirt, shift of feet off the bases were in focus, waiting for him to react. Kristoff took a few last warm up throws to get settled before the hitter stepped into the batter’s box.

“You got this Kris! You got this!” Sven yelled at him from the dugout. He was out of the game now, leaning against the railing intently watching Kristoff with the rest of Kristoff’s teammates.

Kristoff’s vision tunneled at the catcher’s glove. He watched for the signs nodding yes at the second one. One last deep breath and he felt the monster come alive again as he wound up for the pitch. All the energy exploded from his body, hurling the ball toward the plate. The curve ball came in; spinning so fast that Sven would later swear he heard a sizzling sound before it made contact with the catcher’s glove.

“Filthy!” Sven yelled from the dugout as soon as the ump called the strike. “The spin on that ball could rip a shirt!”

Kristoff threw again, getting the count to two strikes and a ball. Everything felt right. His body was strong and fluid and he quickly built up a nice rhythm in his throws. The next balls flew in and the batter foul tipped three pitches in a row.

Sven continued his comments after each pitch. “He’s running scared now!” Sven said, turning his attention to the hitter. “How many times you gonna foul those pitches? C’mon take a real swing!”

Sven’s antics reminded Kristoff of how much he missed playing with his friend. Sven talked to anybody and anyone in a 25 yard radius of him during a game. He’d have entire conversations with catchers at the plate over the course of a game. During their time playing together in college, Sven had gotten into the habit of yelling over to Kristoff in between pitches, just like he was doing now.

Another pitch headed for the plate that sounded like a pissed-off bumble bee. The batter barely managed to tip the ball again to send it into the net. Kristoff paused. He watched the signals coming from the catcher. Slider. He shook it off. Curve ball. Fuck no. When the catcher finally signaled for a fast ball, it only took a slight nod of his head to confirm. Like a missile, the ball shot towards the catcher only to be met with the whoosh of a bat.

The ump raised his right hand into a fist and pumped it forward with authority. “Strike!”

The next two batters were up and down with barely any pitches. The sound after he threw his last curve-ball of the inning was music to his ears; the sharp thud of the ball making contact with the catcher’s glove for a swing and a miss.

Kristoff walked out of the infield with his head down the same way he walked on. He stopped in front of the dugout, finally letting out a shaky breath. He lifted his head, searching again for the one face he had to find. It didn’t take long this time for him to find Anna. She was standing with his cheering family, hands covering her mouth. She dropped them down when she made eye contact with him giving him the most beautiful smile. Kristoff quickly touched his finger to his nose, getting the same response back from Anna. It was their private communication to each other when they were surrounded by crowds. “I love you,” was all it meant, but it carried the weight of the world for them.

In the dugout, Kristoff was greeted with excited high fives and pats on the shoulders from his teammates. He walked past everyone looking for a place to sit, but was enveloped in two large arms as Sven picked him up and twirled him around. He didn’t let go of Kristoff, opting to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“You know we’re on TV,” Kristoff deadpanned, still locked in Sven’s arms.

“Of course. Why else would I be doing this? Maybe we’ll make the highlights!”

“I hate you so much right now.”

Sven let out a bawdy laugh, putting Kristoff down. “You know you love me. Don’t even pretend you don’t.”

Kristoff and Anna said their last good nights and confirmed the time to meet in the morning. The door closed quietly in front of them and they went to walk down the hall.

“That was so nice of your parents to offer to take Karoline.”

“Offer?” Kristoff raised his eyebrows at Anna. “They didn’t really give us a choice. Practically pulled her out of my arms.”

“They did nothing of the sort. But you know how insistent your mom can be.”

“That’s one of the biggest understatements I’ve ever heard.”

Anna yawned. “Why does their room have to be the farthest from the elevator? I’ve been on my feet all day, I think I can feel them swelling- “There was a surprised yelp from Anna as Kristoff went behind her and gathered her up.

“I can walk, you know,” Anna said, trying to sound as annoyed as possible.

“I know, but I wanted to carry you.” Kristoff came to a halt. “Unless you really want me to put you down.” He started to lower the arm that cradled her knees.

“No! No, that’s not necessary. I’ll let you carry me this one time.”

Kristoff smirked at her. “Didn’t think so.”

They made it to the elevator and once inside, Anna let out a sigh. “This was a good day.” She rested her head on Kristoff’s shoulder. After a few moments, she sensed Kristoff looking down at her. “What?” she asked, looking back up at him.

“I was thinking about that kiss from earlier today.”

“Which one? The first or second.”

“Both.”

“No favorite?”

“I can’t choose.”

“How about a tie breaker?” Anna teased.

“Mmm, yes good idea.”

Anna wrapped her arms tighter around Kristoff’s neck as she felt Kristoff’s lips meet hers. It was sweet and soft and they both were so lost in the moment that they didn’t hear the door open or notice the two couples waiting on the other side. A cough from broke them apart. Kristoff quickly exited the elevator while Anna gave them all a wave as they walked past.

He slowed his gate when the door closed again. “Know either of them?” Anna asked.

“American Leaguers,” Kristoff grumbled.

“Oh my god, I wonder what they were thinking when they saw us.” Anna giggled again at the thought of their reactions.

“They probably think we’re on our way to have sex,” Kristoff answered, not giving much thought to his response.

Anna tilted her head up at Kristoff giving him a mischievous grin. “Well, we wouldn’t want to disappoint anyone. And we do have the room to ourselves.”

Kristoff looked at Anna unconvinced. “I didn’t think you were really up for that much anymore.”

They came to their door and Kristoff put Anna down so he could find his key.

“We haven’t done it in San Diego before,” she said running her finger up his chest.

“Anna-“

Anna pulled Kristoff down closer to her. “Kristoff, when a pregnant woman offers you sex, you do not try to turn her down.”

Kristoff’s grin widened at her. “Well in that case, I suppose I should take you up on it. For moral support.”

“Don’t push your luck, buddy,” she said before kissing him again.

“Come on,” Anna exclaimed after Kristoff finally opened the door. They both tumbled in the room in a fit of laughter ready to enjoy the rest of their evening alone.

#A Major Life: San Diego #Baseball AU #Edin what did you write #True fact- baseballs do make noise going through the air when they are thrown hard enough or a certain way #You have to be pretty close to hear it #I have a thought about a part 2 of this story if I ever finish this and get around to it #If I ever write it #it would be important that Kristoff have a biological sibling #So that's there for no other reason

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captainoftherollyjoger · 7 years

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Flight: Chapter 3

Hey! It’s Chapter 3! It was Wimbledon when I wrote this, and I love watching tennis. Especially Federer, so I was extremely happy he won the tournament.

These first few chapters are just a warm up, I’m pretty new to writing fic. Hopefully it gets better along the way.

Some slight angst in this chapter.

If anyone has any other prompts they want me to try out, just send me a quick message! I have till October to do things, waiting for Uni is both good and bad.

Liam is being all big brothery and persuading Killian to ask Emma on a date! Enjoy!

Prologue : Chapter One : Chapter Two : Chapter Three : Chapter Four : Chapter Five : Chapter Six : Chapter Seven : Chapter Eight : Chapter Nine : Chapter Ten : Chapter Eleven : Epilogue

It was 7am on a Sunday. Killian could never sleep in no matter what the day. He had slept well through the night but Emma had been on his mind before and after he fell asleep. He was drinking some apple juice whilst sat on a chair near the kitchen island wondering if she really did like him. She hadn’t stopped his kiss after all. He never thought of Henry as an issue, the boy was clever and happy, he enjoyed his company as much as Emma’s. She was right though, she couldn’t dive head first into this, and neither could he. He had been hurt before and that sent him to America for three years. Roger sat beside him and rested his head on his knee. Breakfast was wanted. He stroked the dog’s floppy ears and got up to feed him. He went to the bathroom for a shower and to decide a plan for the day.

Emma woke up. Her clock flashes 07:30. Too early. Henry was fast asleep still, the journey had clearly took it out of him. She left him to sleep and ventured to see if Killian was up. He was. He was coming from the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, his hair was ruffled with the water. She noticed he was well toned. He hadn’t noticed her until she made a startled sound at the sight of him. He turned to her in surprise. “Oh my, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think you would be up yet, love. I’m an early riser.” His towel had slipped slightly revealing his hips. “I just forgot to take my clothes into the bathroom.” “It’s fine, Killian.” She attempted to avert her eyes, but he had his head down so she couldn’t look into his. Was he embarrassed? “Urm, well… I’ll go and shower.” “I’ll make us some breakfast.” He scratched his neck. When she had gone to the bathroom he breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, I couldn’t have made that more awkward.” Killian had changed and he heard Henry crying, Emma couldn’t hear over the shower. He went into the room and picked up the crying baby. “Hey, you. No need for all that, shh.” He bounced the baby on his hip and took him to the kitchen. “Shall we make mummy some breakfast?” “M-ma-ma!” He giggled. “Aye. Now, what does she like? Toast?” Henry laughed in agreement. “Toast it is.” Emma came to the kitchen to see Henry being lifted into the air by Killian and some toast and a hot chocolate on the side. She smiled and sat down by the counter. Roger lay by her feet and she smiled. She really did find that massive dog cute. Her bare feet felt his fur which was as soft as Killian had said. “Hey, you two.” She smiled. He hadn’t noticed her arrive. “Looks like someone is having fun.” “Aye, we are. I heard him stirring so I thought he would want to help me cook breakfast.” He smiled. “Speaking of breakfast, I think he’s hungry. Alas, that is one job I cannot do.” He smirked. “I’ll feed him in a minute. I need to thank your brother and Elsa for all the stuff. It really was too kind.” She finished the last piece of her toast. “I can’t thank you all enough.” “Don’t worry, love. It’s our pleasure. I was wondering what you wanted to do today?” “I need to get some work done actually. You know, the reason I’m actually here.” She chuckled. “Of course.” “So, what is your job? I never actually asked.” She took Henry from Killian and started to breastfeed him. “I worked by the docks in New York, to clear my head, before that I was a teacher here. I got my degree in English and then went onto my PGCE. So, I’m going to apply to the local sixth form.” He tried not to look, but everything felt so natural. Her being in his apartment, it felt as though he had his own family. “Wow, a teacher. No wonder you’re good with kids.” She smiled. “I’m going to settle down again first. I have some savings. What do you write about?” Asked Killian. “Life. I’m a columnist, so a range. I have to write about life in England.” “Rainy.” He laughed. “I meant like events and celebrations.” She chuckled. “We have Wimbledon coming up. I don’t know how much of a tennis fan you are, but that’s a pretty big event in the Jones household.” “I watch a few sports. Mainly baseball. I do like the tennis if it’s on.” She smiled. “Maybe we could go to London together.” “I would love that.”

Two weeks had passed and they went to all sort of places together. The park to feed ducks, swimming, out for dinner with all the family. Emma sent her first few columns to Graham about her eventful time settling to England. Graham couldn’t apologise enough. She always added humour to her writing and spoke of the disastrous hotel complication. Emma was sitting at the kitchen island looking at apartments in a newspaper. “What’s that?” Asked Killian, coming behind her sipping his coffee. “You’re leaving?” He couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice, even though he tried. “I can’t continue living here on your charity.” She answered, circling apartments. Henry was sitting on the floor entertaining himself with some paint Killian had got out. He had laid out a large roll of paper for him, he was dipping his hands in paint and hitting them on the paper. “It’s not fair on you. Having to pay all my bills.” “Then rent out my room. Stay here, just pay me.” He smiled hopefully. “I really like living with you.” He looked at the floor. “Don’t you like living with me?” “Look at me.” He didn’t. She stood up and lifted his head and smiled sweetly. “Of course I like living with you. I just didn’t think forcing you to live with a baby was fair.” He picked Henry up from the floor. “Don’t be silly, he enjoys living here. Don’t you?” Henry covered Killian’s face in paint and got it in his hair. “Yes, you do.” He smiled and blew a raspberry on his neck. He giggled loudly and wiped paint on his forehead. “He got paint all over you.” She chuckled. “Where else would I get that? Please don’t leave. For me.” He gave her puppy eyes which she found hard to resist. “Plus I can help look after Henry.” “I have an idea. Work said they will pay for all my childcare, maybe if I hire you as a babysitter. We can make a bit of money.” She laughed. “You know how to work the system.” He chuckled. “So, you’ll stay?” “Go on then.” He smiled brightly at her and gave her a hug with Henry. “Thank you, love.”

Three weeks had passed. Emma was becoming part of the family more and more. She got on particularly well with Liam as they had some similar interests. Killian was babysitting Henry when Emma needed it, but they mostly did things together such as visit parks or going out with his nephew and niece. Emma’s work was going really well, Graham said the reception to her column was great and that people loved the stories of Henry and Killian, particularly the ones with Roger. He had asked if she could write four a week. She agreed. The more money the better. She and Killian agreed on £150 a week for rent and bills as well as her chipping in for the weekly shop. Killian was getting quite a bit of money from Graham which helped. On some days, they didn’t bother going out. Emma would work, whilst Killian amused Henry. Today was one of those days. Emma was sat on the couch with her laptop typing away, she started to add small pictures with her columns which also got published. In her columns she never mentioned Henry’s name for his safety from Neal. Everyone else was fine but she referred to him as ‘my little boy’ or other pet names. She was writing about the build up to Wimbledon in the Jones house. They all went to the park for a game of tennis and the competitiveness of the Jones brothers. Her phone started to ring and she took the call into the bedroom. “Hello?” “What the hell, Emma. Who do you think you are? Taking off to another country!” “Neal?” “Why haven’t you told me? Hmm.” “What? I don’t even know how you got hold of me. Why should I tell you what I am doing?” “Because you took my son away!” “Your son? You don’t have the right to call him that. You don’t even know his name! You’re not on the birth certificate, you left me. Alone. With a baby, I was terrified.” “I’m going to get him, one way or another. I’m coming for what is mine.” The phone went blank. Emma didn’t know what to do, tears started to fill her eyes. She just wanted to be rid of Neal, and he kept coming back and ruining her life. “Emma?” Killian walked into her room to ask a question, Henry on his hip. “Get out!” She screamed. “What?” “Get lost, Neal! I mean… Killian.” “Uh, sorry.” He shut the door wondering what the hell had just happened? He took Henry with him and sat on the couch. He was slightly out of it, he had never seen Emma like that before. Henry started to cry. “Hey, shhh. Something upset mummy that’s all.” He bounced him gently. “Come on, Henry. That’s a good boy.” He wiped the tears from his eyes. He was starting to calm down and Killian gave him a cuddle. He soon wanted to play with his toys on the floor so Killian let him crawl over. Half an hour passed and Killian was still sat on the couch, Henry was amusing himself with some blocks. He heard Emma’s door open but didn’t look her way. “Hey.” She sounded weak. She had clearly only just stopped crying. Killian didn’t look at her, he was upset himself and looking at her would make him worse. “Killian. I’m really sorry.” She sat next to him on the couch. “I should never have shouted at you.” He swallowed deeply and his jaw trembled. “I was just upset.” He looked at her then, his deep blue eyes pierced through her. “What happened?” “Neal.” Her voice wavered. Over the last month she had told him more about Neal, how at eighteen she had took the fall and went to jail for him. He found her again and promised her everything, she had fallen for him again, she had gotten pregnant and he left her. She couldn’t hate someone more if she tried. “He threatened to take Henry away.” The tears started again. “I can’t lose him, Killian.” He pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “Shh, don’t be silly. You’re not going to lose him. Neal doesn’t have any right to him.” He stroked her hair as she wept into him. “I promise.” “Why does he even want to know?” He felt her tears come through his t-shirt, she couldn’t control herself and he knew not much phased Emma Swan. But threatening her child was clearly the line. “He’s just being a possessive douchebag. Clearly has nothing better to do.” She gripped a handful of his shirt and tried to steady her breathing. “That’s a good girl. Shh. I won’t let anything happen to either of you.” Henry crawled over. “I think he’s jealous, love.” “I’m so sorry, baby.” She pushed herself off Killian and picked him up. “Mummy was angry that’s all. I love you more than anything. I do. I do.” She kissed him all over and hugged him. “I need to finish my work.” “Have a break, let’s take Roger for a walk, clear your head.” He smiled. “But-” “Ah, ah. Come on. Work can wait.” He stood up and offered his hand. She took it and he pulled her up. He took Henry from her. “Go and wash your face, love. Freshen up and we’ll go.” He pulled her in with one arm and kissed her on her forehead. “Nothing bad will happen.”

That evening, Emma put Henry to bed, and Liam and Elsa came round for a while. Emma had weaned Henry off breast milk and he was now on formula and some solids. They were all discussing the Wimbledon final and their plans. The local park broadcasted it and many went to watch and celebrate. It was Federer and Cilic in the final, which made the Jones household very happy. They were long time fans of him, hence Killian’s dog being named Roger. “Shall we have a bet, little brother?” Asked Liam, who had drunk too much wine. “You never win bets, Liam.” “I want to bet you that Federer will win Wimbledon without dropping a set.” “You’re on. What we betting on?” “Fifty quid… and” He whispered something in his ear. “Fine. You’re on.” “What was that?” Asked Emma. He just smiled and leant back onto the kitchen surface she was also leaning on, his arm relaxed behind her waist. “Nothing.” He smirked. She raised an eyebrow. “Nothing at all, love.” She pointed a finger at his chest. “I don’t believe you.” He took hold of her hand and squeezed it. “Maybe you should trust me more.” He flirted. Both had big smiles for each other. Elsa nudged Liam, and gave him a signal for them to leave. “Well, we best be off. Don’t want auntie getting fed up of the kids.” Smiled Liam. The two were startled by Liam’s comment. “Oh, so soon?” Asked Killian. “We’ll see you tomorrow.” Smiled Elsa, kissing Emma on the cheek. “I’ll make us a picnic.” “Sounds lovely. We’ll see you tomorrow.” Liam hugged her and Killian goodbye. They followed them out and waved them goodbye down the street. “Another drink, love?” He smiled, shutting the door. They walked to the front room and she sat on the couch. She heard Killian fumbling around in the kitchen, then some music came on. He walked over two glasses of wine in hand. “Just thought some music would be nice.” He smiled, handing her a glass. Oasis, a famous band from Manchester, Emma had learned played in the background whilst they chatted about tomorrow and times to come. “So, what did Liam whisper?” She asked, playing idly with his hand. “I really want to know.” “I can’t tell you, it’s a secret.” He grinned. “I keep my secrets to myself.” Her casual attitude to holding his hand took him by surprise. “For me. Come on.” That second Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran came on. “Oh, I love this song!” She beamed, she placed her glass down and got up. “What are you doing?” He smiled. The wine had made her relax, she hadn’t drunk in a long time and he was glad she could let her hair down. “Dance with me.” She smirked. She grabbed his hands and pulled him up. “I don’t dance.” He pulled away from her, or tried to. “Swan.” “Come here, I’ll teach you. Put your hand around my waist, good. Now, hold this hand.” She swayed them back and forth, she never imagined she would be dancing with someone to her favourite song. “Yay, you’re dancing.” Killian couldn’t believe he was so close to Emma, she had pulled him in so close, he could smell her perfume and the fresh air on her hair, the wine on her lips. He was so close, he didn’t want the night to end. She rested her head on his shoulder and hummed into him. “This is perfect, Emma.” She looked up at him and smiled. “These last few weeks have been perfect.” She stared into his eyes and smiled. Her eyes glanced quickly to his lips. That was his cue. He reached down towards her and kissed her softly, not sure how she would react. She didn’t pull away but deepened the kiss. He could taste the wine on her lips and felt her smiling against him. He wouldn’t be the one to stop. The moment was too magical. Though she wasn’t giving up either. “Mmm,” he laughed. His hands slid to her waist to steady himself. “You’re beautiful.” Right on cue, Henry started crying. He felt Emma sigh deeply. She pulled away and they rested their foreheads on each other. She was as much as a mess as him, he was glad to know. “I’ll go.” “Let me.” Smiled Killian. He dropped her a quick peck and went to Henry. He was crying in his cot, he picked him up and rocked him gently. “Hey, you. You’re ruining my chances.” He laughed. “You get me and your mum all day. Sleepy time.” He whispered, softly. Emma entered the room. She saw Killian comforting Henry and her heart melted. She wanted to hug them both, she walked behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, kissing his shoulder. “He suits you. Or you suit holding a baby.” He felt her smile on his back and her hands started to feel his stomach, and go under his shirt, suggesting she wasn’t finished. “You’ve had too much to drink.” He smiled, removing her arms. Though it wasn’t easy with a baby in one hand and Emma’s death grip. Why was she so strong? He placed Henry back in his cot who was now asleep. “Come on, Killian. It’s been ages. I thought you were a gentleman?” “Exactly. I would never take advantage of you like.” She had started peppering kisses on his neck. “Swan, please. Don’t.” He tried to push her away. “Emma. I’m serious.” “Don’t you want me?” “That’s not fair. Come on, sleep.” He lay her down and put the covers at the edge of the bed. “Stay.” “No, love. Not tonight.” “Please, stay.” “If I stayed, we both know what would happen.” “Until I fall asleep?” She smirked, pulling him down. He gave up and lay next to her. “No funny business.” He was lay on his back on top with his arms behind his head. “As soon as there is I’m going.” She nodded and moved up to him. “Can I have a cuddle?” She gave him sad eyes. He sighed and lifted his arm up. She smiled gratefully and snuggled her head into his shoulder and put her arm across his stomach. They lay in comfortable silence for a short while and Killian began to play with her hair idly. She inched closer, her nose snuggling into his neck. He felt her place soft kisses to his jaw. “Emma.” He warned. She stopped with an audible sigh. She soon fell asleep after that, when he was sure, he carefully removed himself from her and pulled the covers over her. Henry was sleeping peacefully, he gave the baby a kiss on the head and went to his room. He wanted Emma so much, and she clearly wanted him, but it wouldn’t have been right. She would already wake up hung over, she didn’t need regret either.

Emma woke up. She was alone. Her head hurt as she remembered the events from last night. Had she tried to hit on Killian? She had. Henry was asleep next to her, she got up and went to the kitchen for coffee. The apartment was empty. No Roger or Killian. Was he upset? She had been quite drunk. How embarrassing. She had some breakfast and did some work, she never finished yesterday. She heard keys in the door. Time to face the music. Roger padded into the kitchen for some water and Killian had shopping bags. He placed them on the counter and smiled. Smirked? He looked proud of himself. “How are you feeling?” He chuckled. “Headache?” “You could say that.” He was pottering around the kitchen but she focused on her coffee. “Where have you been?” “Shopping, love. After all I haven’t been in ages.” He was suddenly right behind her whispering into her ear. He was paying her back and he sounded downright sinful. “You know how that feels?” “Was I that bad?” She closed her eyes. “Certainly took a lot of willpower to resist you, love.” He was still right behind her. “You pretty much begged me.” He said slowly, she could hear the filth in his voice. It wasn’t helping her. She still wanted him, she was just more in control sober. “Stop. I’ve embarrassed myself enough.” She stood up and went to the bedroom to check on Henry, he followed closely. “He isn’t awake yet.” Killian hugged Emma from behind and buried his face in her neck. “Maybe, we can occupy ourselves.” He laughed into her. It was all teasing. But he knew what he was doing. “Don’t, I don’t need reminding.” He let her go and let out a hearty laugh. “You’re so easy to tease, darling. It’s cute. Speaking of cute.” He smiled, pacing back to the kitchen. “Look what I bought Henry.” He held up a baby onesie with a ship on the front and lots of little anchors and wheels. “Killian, that’s adorable. I love it.” She smiled. “I thought you would like it. Maybe he can sleep in it tonight?” “I’d love that. Hey, what time are we meeting them at the park?” She asked, trying to return back to normal conversation. She wanted to forget about the previous night. “Just before two.” “I’ll do some work before hand. Do you mind watching Henry?” She smiled. “Not at all. Is he still sleeping?” She nodded and got to work. Her phone rang and she answered. It was Graham. “Five days? That’s an awful lot. I’m only meant to be part time.” “Emma, the reception we have had is great. People love hearing your stories. Please, Emma. It’s more money for you and for your baby sitter.” She smirked at that. Killian would have looked after him anyway. Bonus he was getting paid. “You seem to be really enjoying yourself. I told you this would be good for you.” “Can I think about it for a few days?” She asked. “I have to get this column done before two, we’re going out. I’ll send it over quickly. Why aren’t you asleep?” “You know me, sleep is for the dead.” He laughed down the phone. “You can have two weeks to think about it. Speak to you soon.” “Thanks, Graham.” She smiled, and placed the phone down. “What was that, love?” Asked Killian, reading a magazine. “I’ve been offered another day to write, which means more money and more money for you. Plus more of my writing getting published.” “That’s great, Emma!” He walked over. “Are you taking it?” “I don’t know. I like the balance I have right now. Is one more day just a bit too much? It means I’m full time.” “You could see how it is, then tell your boss it isn’t working out.” “I know but I want to spend time with you. We both haven’t acknowledge that one day, I have to go back to America. I’ve already been here for a month nearly.” “Shh. Don’t talk about that.” He really didn’t want to think about a life without the two in it. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” “I’m just being realistic.” “Let’s not be realistic. Let’s imagine you’re going to be here a very long time. It makes it easier.” He closed his eyes to stop any emotion escaping. “Hey, okay. We won’t think about it.” She gave him a hug. “I need to work. We’ll forget about me leaving… for now.” He nodded.

They arrived at the park. The whole family along with Roger in tow. The Newfoundland’s tongue dangled at the side of his mouth whilst he trotted along. Emma had sent her column off, writing about the competitiveness of the Jones Brothers and the lead up to Wimbledon and the bet placed between them. Families had all gathered around, there were carnival games, food being served, and children running about and playing. After the match, dance troupes performed and karaoke came on. There were games for the children such as fun races. It was an annual event watching the tennis in the park. Elsa had laid out a lovely picnic, Killian and Liam played a few games of tennis with each other. Emma took Roger and Henry for a walk and the two children were playing a card game with Judy. When the match started on the large projector, Killian sat by Emma eating a sandwich. “Does our deal still stand?” Asked Liam. “Indeed. Fifty quid. Straight sets. He has to drop at least one. How can he not?” “Well, we shall see little bro.” He smirked.

Federer was up two sets and hadn’t dropped one. Killian wasn’t happy to be losing fifty quid as Cilic was suffering. He wanted Federer to win, just not so well. Emma was engrossed in the sport and was cheering a lot, the family tradition was something she could get used to. Henry clapped with her and Killian was watching her. She looked really good these days, she looked less tired and stressed, her smile was always bright, he knew she had a bad past but he wanted to knock her walls down, she deserved to be happy. He saw Liam whisper something in her ear and she threw her head back laughing. Liam was good at making her laugh like that, he never knew what he said to her, but he wished he could do the same. He certainly made her laugh, but not the way Liam could. It was coming up to the point of the last game. Everyone was leant forward. Federer got his point and the crowd erupted. Everyone stood up and clapped, Killian gave Emma a big hug. They watched Federer celebrate and everyone was laughing with each other. “You owe me fifty quid… and you need to fulfil your other half of our deal.” Smirked Liam, who glanced at Emma who was holding Henry and cheering. “Fine.” He walked up to Emma and pulled her to the side, handing Henry to Elsa. “May I have a word?” He asked, nervously. “Sure.” She smiled, slightly confused. “What’s up?” “Well, as you know, I had another part of a bet with Liam.” “And what was that?” She laughed. He scratched his neck. “Killian?” “Will you do me the honour of going on a date with me? Tonight?” He smiled. Hope filled his eyes. “Really?” “Come on, Swan. We both know it’s what we want.” He smiled. “Of course I will.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss. The Jones family clapped and Emma laughed. “What if Federer had dropped a set?” “Maybe I knew he wouldn’t. Maybe it was fate.” “So, where are you taking me?” She smiled. “That’s a surprise. Elsa will babysit for us. We can have a nice night out, just me and you. How does that sound?” “Amazing.”

#flight cs fanfic #cs ff #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #cs fluff #cs fanfic

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ficdirectory · 7 years

Text

Blink (An AU Fosters family fic) Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

On New Year’s Eve, Pearl wakes up early again. 3:45 AM. That means she’s managed (somehow) to sleep in a little. She has to spend several minutes convincing herself that the dream she had last night of Gracie eating so much food that she grew to the size of a service dinosaur would not come true.

Not her usual dream, but not a great one. Her heart’s still beating a little fast, but she cuddles Gracie, whispering, “I’m so glad you’re not a dinosaur,” and Gracie stays in place, lying on Pearl’s chest until Pearl feels calm enough to get up.

She does some self-care, journaling about the dinosaur dream:

12-31-14

4:01 AM

So I just had this weirdly scary dream that Gracie was the size of a brontosaurus and I could not walk her or feed her or anything because she was so massive. Every time she tried to calm me down, she ended up crushing me, or knocking me over or taking my whole arm into her mouth because she was trying to pull me somewhere I needed to go.

Do I think that knowing Jesus is a huge responsibility? That knowing him is getting too intense? I don’t feel overwhelmed by Gracie being here, but Jesus is the first major change I have had in my life since Gracie actually came into my life. Maybe Char is right and I should watch how invested I get. I do need to be sure I prioritize myself and not lose sight of my own mental health being there for him… Still, I don’t FEEL like he is a huge responsibility or that he is too intense at all. I feel like we get each other. I feel ok around him and that’s rare.

I should be glad. This really is a step up from dreaming about driving under threat of my life or constantly smelling the woods that i am not even in. Still, I’d rather my dog be a normal size.

Pearl

Pearl closes her journal and swings for a bit. Checks Skype for Pav, but she’s not on today. She’s getting breakfast together, around 8:00, when it occurs to her just how little is here. Dread fills her. She’s going to have to go shopping. Not tomorrow. Not next week. (Because Pearl pushes these things if they can be pushed, for as long as they can possibly be pushed.) Today. She’s out of bread, milk, oatmeal, juice, and Gracie needs dog food.

Just the thought of going to the Super One in Crosby makes her mouth dry and her palms sweat. Gracie’s at her side in no time, trying to distract her from the obnoxious hand tremors.

She needs to do this. Gracie needs food. Pearl had to scrape the bottom of the bin to get her enough for this morning. She’s going to need more by tonight. But just the thought has her pacing. Tears forming in her eyes.

“I can’t do this. I really can’t do this. God. I should have gone earlier, but now I don’t have a choice!’ Pearl curls up on the couch, and Gracie joins her, licking her face.

“Don’t! I don’t deserve love right now! I’m a horrible person! I can’t even go to the store to buy you food without freaking out…” she exclaims.

Gracie doesn’t listen. Stays close.

Pearl glances out the window. Jesus is out on the back step. Scanning. Waiting to see if she and Gracie will come out. But she can’t come out, or she’ll probably start crying, and that’ll be embarrassing.

...But he had said if she needed something this week to let him know...

Instead, she waits until he goes back inside and picks up her phone. Dials Frank’s landline next door, and immediately regrets it.

(They’re on vacation! Like they want a phone call at 8:15 in the morning from a woman distraught about the prospect of grocery shopping!)

“Hey. Pearl?” Jesus answers on the second ring.

“Yeah, it’s me. Listen, I have kind of a weird favor to ask…”

“What’s up?” Jesus wonders. This is the first time Pearl has called. The first time Grandpa’s phone has rung since they arrived.

“I have to go to the store,” Pearl says and Jesus can hear her voice shake a little. “And that’s kind of stressful for me. I was curious if you wanted to come with...keep me company?”

Jesus glances over his shoulder, where Mom’s reading a book at the table. “I’d have to run it by Moms, but I’ll call you back. I wanna be there. And I’ll come if I can. Okay?”

“Yeah, sounds good. No pressure.”

Jesus hangs up, and turns to Mom. He’s still angry at her, but she was talking about how well she knew Pearl last night. Maybe she’s a safer bet than Mama because of that. Still, he keeps his distance. She hasn’t torn down the blankets from around the table, but that could just be because he hasn’t pissed her off yet.

“Pearl wanted to know if I could go into town with her. She has to run to the store,” Jesus says in a rush.

“Yeah? Well, I think this is something you should talk through a little more first,” she advises, setting her book aside.

“Is Mama up?” he asks. (The more days go by, the later everyone is sleeping in. It’s already 8:20 and breakfast isn’t even in progress yet.)

Oh.

“I’m gonna go shower,” he tells Mom, hurrying upstairs and knocking quietly on the girls’ door. “Hey, Mari? You up for being a human I-Pod for me?”

“Yeah, give me a second…” she yawns from behind the door.

It’s more than a second, but it gives Jesus time to pick out his clothes. He goes with the most boring jeans and plain shirt he brought, because if he’s going into town he’ll see people, and people might recognize him. Better to blend in.

Finally, Mariana comes out, blowing air through her lips and making her voice go up and down. He smirks.

“What song is that?” he asks, smirking.

“I’m warming up, Jesus,” she says witheringly. “Unless you want your song to sound like an old man is singing.”

“No. I mean, do that. Warm up,” he says. He waits until she says she’s ready and offers to sing Tomorrow from Annie, as long as he’s not bothered by it.

“No. It’s fine,” he nods. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it. You know me. Never pass up an opportunity to perform.” She smiles.

He knows the truth though: Mariana likes to sleep and sleep late. The fact that she’s been up before noon the past two days while on vacation is a pretty big sacrifice on her part.

Jesus showers and when he’s done (no problems today either), Mariana goes back to bed. Downstairs, Mama and Mom are cooking breakfast. “French toast?” he asks, his eyes going to the clock behind them. 8:30.

“That’s right,” Mama says, flipping a piece. “So, did I hear that Pearl called?”

“She did. She has to go to the store and asked if I could come with her…” Jesus repeats.

“How do you feel about it?” Mama asks him. (Mom gives him regular toast with peanut butter and jelly to eat while he waits. It helps him relax just a little.)

“I feel...nervous about being recognized...and that it’s a store and I don’t really go shopping much...but she’s my friend and I wanna help,” Jesus tries to explain. “What do you guys think?” he asks, trying for it to just be a question, nothing more.

Back Then, he used to ask Him what He thought of things on purpose, in order to get what he needed. It was manipulative. He doesn’t need to manipulate Moms. To them, it can just be a question, because he does respect them and their opinions.

“To be honest, love, I’m nervous at the idea of you being in a car with her,” Mama admits. “I don’t know her very well yet. And I’d like to know your friends a bit better before I feel comfortable with you in a car with them.”

Jesus bites his lip. “But other than that. Do you think it’s possible?”

“Slow down,” Mama cautions gently. “Help us think about this. How would you feel most comfortable getting to the store? I know vehicles aren’t your favorite thing.”

“Well...if you’re really that concerned about Pearl driving me, one of you guys could drive us.”

“Back up!” Frankie calls. “I need some back up, please!”

“Hold that thought,” Jesus says, getting up from his chair and climbing the stairs to give Frankie a lift down them.

“Morning, buddy!” Frankie says cheerfully.

“Good morning, buddy,” Jesus grins. “How are you?”

“Hungry,” Frankie says. “And I heared Mariana sing Annie for you, so then I smelled all the good smells.”

“French toast,” he tells her, settling her in a chair near him. “Moms and I are talking, okay?”

“I know. I heared that, too,” Frankie nods.

“You know, I could drive them,” Mom volunteers. “I mean, assuming it’s okay with Jesus. I assume Pearl just goes up to the Super One. It’s not far, and I can get some things, too.”

“To the grocery store?” Frankie asks, like they’re talking about the toy store.

“Yes, my sweet. Here, have some French toast,” Mama says, putting some on each of their plates.

“I love the grocery store,” Frankie sighs happily. “‘Specially where it smells like bread.”

“That’s great, Frankie, but let’s hear from Jesus, okay?” Mama says.

“I think it’s cool if Mom drives. Are you cool with her dog in the rental?” he asks.

“Oh! Your friend and the dog and the grocery store?” she exclaims all in one breath around bites of French toast. “Can I come, please? You said you asked her and she was thinking about me meeting the dog. So can you please ask her if she’s done thinking now?”

Mom makes a face. “Her dog? Seriously?”

Jesus turns to Frankie because it’s easier to explain it to her than it is to Mom. “Listen, buddy. My friend, Pearl? Her dog’s name is Gracie. Gracie’s job is--”

“Silly! Dogs don’t got jobs!” Frankie laughs a forced laugh.

“Gracie does have a job. You know how we have things that help us calm down, like our blankets?”

“Yeah. Night-Night’s the best at that.”

“Some people have animals that can help with that, too. They’re called service animals, because they’re helping their people. Gracie’s job is to help Pearl. That means we can’t pet Gracie, okay? So she can stay focused on doing her job,” Jesus explains.

He waits, eating some French toast while Frankie thinks this over.

When she turns to him again, a light of recognition is in her eyes, and Jesus is sure she gets it. But instead she says, confident and certain: “Guys. I have to tell you this: I have a service blanket.”

Mama coughs to cover up a laugh and Mom whispers to Jesus. “Her dog is welcome in the rental, love. Why don’t you call her back and ask when she’d like us to pick her up?”

Pearl has tried swinging. She’s tried calming self-talk. Music. More journaling. But all she can really do is watch the hours tick by and wonder if Jesus has forgotten all about her call.

Almost an hour later, her phone rings, and Pearl picks it up after half a ring, never happier to see the name Frank Cooper on the screen.

“Hello?” she asks, trying not to hyperventilate.

“Hey, it’s Jesus. My moms said it’s okay for me to go with you, but they’re not comfortable with me in a car with you. Is it okay if Stef drives us?”

Pearl’s distracted by a little voice in the background: “Ask her, Jesus, please!”

“And, my little sis is really wondering if you’re done thinking about whether or not she can meet Gracie. I know it’s a lot.” He waits. “You can say no.”

“No, it’s fine, and actually Stef driving will really help. That’s part of what makes shopping stressful,” she confides.

“Okay. Well, when did you wanna go? I’m ready, but we might need a few minutes for Mom and Frankie.”

“Wait. Frankie?” Pearl asks, the name breaking through her panic. “Your little sister’s name is Frankie.”

“Yeah. Why?” Jesus wonders, a little amused.

“Is she named after Frank?” Pearl asks.

Jesus laughs. “Yeah, she is.”

“Nice. I’d like to go as soon as we can. When you’re ready, you wanna just give me a call, and we’ll walk over?”

“Yeah. No problem. Hey Pearl?”

“Mmm-hmm?” she asks, still too shaky for comfort.

“Breathe. It’s gonna be okay. I’ll be with you. Mom’s got her own shopping to do, and Frankie needs to smell the bread, so...you know...just you, me and Gracie.”

Pearl takes a deep breath. “Thanks.”

“I’ll give you a call when we’re ready to go.”

#fic: blink #fosters fic

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