#the nine years would be how long it took for it to be released

[christinebloodwrittings]

To hunt or be hunted #13

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader x Lucifer Summary: Finally Lucifer's turn, Ft. a voyeur Alastor. Warnings: Light smut, talk about SA and assault.

Hazbin Taglist: @sakuraluna2468 @boogiemansbitch @mysterypotatoink @sibsteria @cherry-cola-100 @readergirlstuff @phoenixica24 @martinys-world @alientee @jellyroom2 @jewelsrules @ladyzaunis @zealousllamawolf @kittycat246 @shamblezzz @looking106

Back at the palace, in his office. How he dreaded to come back to the solitude after months of your company and comprehension.  That’s what it was, right? After all you were only with him because he could provide you with a good night sleep. That and unconditional support.

If his love wasn’t enough to make her stay after thousands of years of marriage, how could he ensure to convince you to do the same, to stay? He thought looking at the portrait of him and Charlie, with a black veil hovering on top of Lilith’s face.

“How did it end like this? Why I wasn’t enough?” he sighed, looking at the stack of papers lying on his desk. With a groan he prompted himself and sat, the amount of papers that wrath had sent over to the Hotel were nothing compared with the ones at the office, he was going to be there for a while.

License after contract after whatever stupidity the sins had been proposing over the years he had excluded himself from their world. Something if he could notice among all the garbage that he asked to be approved, the economy had gone down the drain and it was increasingly difficult to find ways to farm correctly.

With determination, he went out to the balcony and from between his hands and a tear that fell from his cheek he released a cloud that covered the skies of his ring. With a little bit of a sentiment he allowed water to fall on his land, he then sent the water over to Sloth, who’s people took care of the plantations and medicines.

One small thing that might make a significant change.

He then sent over to Greed plans to “make more by charging less” only to deceive Mammon into agreeing to reduce the expense of “After-life”, otherwise if he found out he was going to lose money, he would be there banging on his door, whining for a century. That thought made him let out an exhausted laugh as he finished writing.

Unconsciously he had skipped lunch, normally you are there to remind him and get him off the ducks to go eat. He felt as useless as he did when he fell. And how not to do it? A monarch who barely cares for his people, immersed in depression and loneliness.

"Your Majesty?" an IMP opened the door, silver tray in hand, "Yes, tell me?" He barely murmured the words to him, having been between papers for more than nine hours, "He told me to tell him when it was eight thirty." He glanced at the clock on the wall, indeed eight thirty. "Ah thank you" he took the pill on the tray and took two pills, a refill of the antidepressant that Belphegor sent him every two weeks.

"It's already eight" he thought out loud, lazily, the weight of not having moved for hours settled on him like an anchor on his back, he made a portal to his hotel room, finding a plate of food with a note, when he saw that it was your handwriting, he felt a tickle in his heart.

‘Eat, see you in a minute’ he smiled like a lovesick boy, taking the note to his drawer and setting it inside a box, along with other notes you had wrote for him, including the first one.

“Hey, you look tired” he didn’t noticed you were in the room until your hands passed over his shoulders to lay on his chest, untying his bowtie as he took another bite of the stake you had prepared. “Too many papers” he spoke, one hand with a fork and the other on one of your hands.

“I can help with the rest if you want” he smiled and shook his head, “I neglected my obligations for too long, I have to be responsible of the damage now” you kissed his temple, a happy sigh as your reward. “How was your day?” ‘tell him about the threat and add to his stress, or lie and handle it later?’ you pondered for a minute, then decided to tell him but not quite.

“I was threatened, by an unsightly demon, I have to admit she was good, but she wanted my business” he swallowed the last bite before he turned his head to see you, not one sight of bruises or injuries, “And did she survived?” unfortunately, “She managed to slip away, but I’ll pay no heed to that”.

“The axe-man being merciful? Let’s go buy a lottery ticket, we may win tonight” you pinched his side in spite of his bad joke, “You little…I prefer horse races” he kissed your hand with a smile, then flicked the fingers on the other, a smug grin adorned his face.

The candle flames of the room turned purple, the ambiance changing in a second. “You should rest Luci, there’s no need of-” he shushed you by pulling of your waist around him, gaining you to sit on his lap, “No need… do you want to?” he read your enthusiasm in the kiss you laid on his lips, “Good, because I’ve been daydreaming of the bath you promised me” he whisked his wrist, the echo of water being poured into the bath was heard afterwards.

“Just a minute, my lioness” he nuzzled his face on your collarbone, his smile was a tired one, true but tormented. You noticed the bags under his eyes had become a tad darker, ‘Curse her, I will tore apart that prissy bitch for this’ you thought, your eyes shifting slightly.

“Y/n?” he called you, at which you hummed, staring at the void, “You’re tense, was the threat that bad?” you could tell he was worrying; he would read that info out if you continued thinking about it. “I guess I am tense, I have lost my touch” you stood up from his lap, “Y/n?” he called you again, his eyes fixed on any sign that will tell him anything.

"What you will see, it is not pretty or attractive. I have come to the point where I truly appreciate you and I can safely say that I truly have you in my heart" You walked a few steps forward, still turning your back on him, "But, I forbid you to show me pity or feel sorry for me or my current state, that is something that I will never forgive you for." You took the ties of your dress and undid the knot, and then let the corset fall to the floor, as soon as you did, the dress you wore pooled down around your ankles.

Lashes, long and repetitive, almost all of the same length, spreading across your skin from below your shoulders to your lower back. They didn't look normal, but rather they were deep and the scar had the appearance of a burn. Your back, contrasting with the rest of your skin, looked emaciated and rotten but without really being so. Lucifer had to put on his best performance to not show you how much it hurt and infuriated him to see you like this.

“He used a fire poker, that's why he looks like that. He ended up being my first victim in my debut as Axe-man” when you finally gained the strength to turn around, he adopted a look that you couldn't read, “This kind of violence, I hate it. I can erase the marks on their entirety, you just have to say the word” it wasn’t pity, he honored your request, it was something more, passion perhaps, “Will it hurt?” he nodded, “Do it, please”.

When the water was perfectly tempered, he magicked his suit away, he was the first to enter the bathtub, and provided an inviting hand your way. You let out a breath seeing everything he had to offer, himself.

“Can I trust you?” he asked, you wanted to make that question, “You can” you took his hand, the rest of your garments discarded on the floor, “I need us to make a deal, in exchange of my healing powers” the water was warm on your skin, it slowly reached your hips as he motioned you to sit on his legs, straddling his hips.

“Go on” your hands caressed his chest, all the way up to his shoulders, embracing him close, “No matter what happens after this is gone-” his hand traced the snake on your shoulder to the head on top of your breast, “I want you to stay by my side” the nature of his request was simple, his sanity, you worked as an anchor, to keep him grounded and steady, contrary to what he felt with Lilith, which was a freedom like feeling, but he was eternally alone nonetheless.

 “I can’t give you my soul, I don’t possess it yet” he placed a kiss on your throat, making you gasp. “I don’t want to own you; I just want this...” his eyes were red, horns, you were making a solemn accord with the king of hell. “Truth to be told, I don’t think I can let this go either. Once I try the apple, no matter what happens next, will you still want me?” could he? Even if she appeared and you had to move on to make irreparable damage, would he stay nonetheless?

“Yes” he didn’t faltered, not a single doubt in his eyes. “It’s a deal then” under the powerful kiss that sealed the agreement, invertedly, the snake on your chest made a few movements back up, resting on your collarbone.

Kiss by kiss your body began to relax, your hips moved as if by inertia against his pelvis, accompanied by his hands on your skin. Up, down, he gently pressed his fingers on your thighs, wishing he could make it harder, but he rather avoid hurting you any longer.  When the hard ceramic of the bathtub under your knees began to hurt, you winced, so he changed the position, he sat you sideways on top of his legs.

“Say it” you whispered, lowering your kisses to his neck and shoulder, “I want you, I care for you, I need you” his tip poked your bottom, to which you widen your eyes slightly and contained a laugh, barely, “You’re too pretty, that’s why” he blushed in an adorable golden hue, looking down to the rest of scars less noticeable along your body.

“Did you gave my offer a thought?” two fingers sneaked under your legs, parting gently your thighs to make way into your pussy. “I did, it was hard not to” you gasped when his touch reached your puffy lips, “Do you have an answer to it?” he kissed into your damp hair.

"I live in the possibility that one day, I will have to do something that you will not be able to forgive me for, and just thinking about how you would look at me afterwards, kills me”

“Like what, killing Charlie? You love her too much to do that” true, but inevitably if she were to appear, and gave you the order, you wouldn’t have other option.

“I don’t have the specifics Luce, but I feel something is on its way to threaten you and Charlie, and when that happens I will raise my ax against whoever attacks you, without a doubt” you held your heart in your words, he noticed your heart skip a beat or two as you did.

He remembered how he used to get wet in the rain, sheltering Lilith from it with his wings. When she left her, he was left alone getting wet in the rain, until you appeared, and he spread his wings once again, but he didn't get wet, you put an umbrella over him.

“That’s a lovely sentiment, but I can take care of myself, love” you hummed to his absurd pride, hidden under a kiss and a smile. “But I believe in your judgement, you love my daughter, as much as I do, probably” he kissed you again, smiling lovingly as he did, “And you” you added, it also made his smile grow.

But of course, your happiness was fleeting. Lucifer wanted you in a way you didn't know, but longed for. He put lust aside when he realized the water was getting cold, he went on to wash your hair, let your hands run the soft soap over his scars, and then activated his powers. His heart trembled when you started gasping and wincing while his specks worked on the scar tissue.

He offered you a hundred apologies, one each cry of pain you let out, until it was over. The only thing echoing in the room was your breath, then footsteps. “Ah, glad you finally decided to join us, Bambi” you looked past your shoulder, Alastor walked up to seat on the edge of the bathtub.

“How do you feel dearest?” he petted in between your ears, combing your hair with his claws on the way. “I know the pain is merely mental, it will pass” he then lowered his hand to in between your shoulders, “It looks much better now” he cooed, leaning to lay a kiss on your shoulder. “Thank you, doctor” you smiled against Lucifer’s skin, he let out a giggle remembering the previous conversation early in the morning.

“You two better get out of there, you’ll get sick” he was right, following by an eye roll from Lucifer, you two got out of the soapy water. Alastor had you wrapped in a towel, then brushed and blow-dried your hair, you did the same for Lucifer, having him smiling and relaxing made you feel happy, even more so, having Alastor’s ministrations on yourself.

“I was hoping I could get us some time; you know?” Lucifer frowned towards Alastor, who was nuzzling against your shoulder, “You were the one who said I could join”

“Okay, ground rules about my body” you walked away from them, dropping the towel as you made your way to the bed, “I don’t do group fucks. If you want me, it will be one at a time, aftercare mandatory, no anal” you stepped up on the sheets, pushing yourself back to the center, “You may bite and scratch me, but avoid important points, I will do the same”.

Alastor moved to a chair next to the balcony window, his gaze never leaving yours. The king discarded his towel as well, crawled on top of the bed to positioned himself on top of you. He parted your legs, setting himself so close to you, he felt eager to just ram into you, but he wanted to do things right, specially since he had public.

You felt him growl seeing the snake, “Mine, you won’t be taking her away” you smiled, his eyes blood red as he licked a stripe up in between your breasts. The snake moved a solid inch up to your shoulder. “It moved…” Alastor choked on a drop of saliva, “What did?” Lucifer went down kissing your belly, “That thing on her arm” he laughed, happy that you were happy enough to not want to die.

“I’ve only seen it move forward, interesting, I need to know more about this- Hey!” in between the king and Alastor, the smiling demon had the length advantage, but the king had the girth, and a long tongue, which was soon inside you. “Lucifer, ah! You don’t have to-“ voices, sounds, reminders of a skin that you left behind, yet palpable on your mind.

 “You want me to stop?” the king was scared, he didn’t know if he had made something wrong, his own voices were tearing his mind apart, unsure of what he did to upset you, to bring a bitter look on your eyes.

“No, I just make the point that you don’t exactly have to do that” all the comments of the taste, the look, you just never wanted to hear that again. “I want to, pleasure goes both ways, and it’s about to earn the other person” after a few seconds of your wide eye dumbfounded look, he explained “Curtsey of the king of lust”.   

“May I?” he looked down on you with a smile and a pleading look, like a kid begging to eat a piece of candy, “Alright” when Lucifer started sucking on the skin around your mound and then licking straight into the source. You grabbed his hair, gently tucking at it.

You shot a glance to Alastor, his shaft out of the fly of his pants, a hand going up and down while his eyes were fixed on you, a light blush adorning his cheeks. “Al, come kiss me” you pleaded in between breaths and moans. The deer didn’t hesitated a single second, he rose from his seat to kiss you, feverishly, tongues fighting and dancing a very dangerous tango.

“Mmh, Luci wait-” you moved your face from Alastor, jealous he bit your neck, triggering the pression building in your lower abdomen to loosen and implode on Lucifer’s mouth. “Next time is my turn, dear” Alastor turned your head with two fingers under your chin, claiming your lips once again.

“You’ll have to beat me to it, fawn” Lucifer made you gasp into Al’s mouth when he pulled your legs up his waist, “That’s for her to decide, arm rest” his taunt made you giggle, “Don’t be mean to each other” you caressed Alastor’s face, causing him to bleat happily.

“You don’t need a hand with that, big boy?” you purred hovering his lips, “Not this time dear” his forehead was on yours, “Alright” you heard Lucifer murmur before he tug on your tail, “May I have your attention, kitten?” his red eyes were a real menace to your mental sanity.

“I’m sorry my king, you have my undivided attention” he shot an unamused stare at the radio demon, who sat back in his seat. “Good” he pulled you closer by your hips, “I need you kitten, so bad, please?” he pumped his dick a couple times before coating the tip with some of your previous cum.

After the green light, so to speak, excitement got him so fast he ram himself into you. “Oh, shit it’s huge!” you gasped, your words made pride put Lucifer on a chokehold, he almost cum because of that. He was about to anyways, seven years with no action made him twice as sensitive.

He started slow, mentalizing as not to finish yet, though the way you were clawing his back, and squeezing him in was making it extremely challenging. “Kitten, I’m close” he almost made it sound as an apology, “Go ahead, please” after a few thrusts and lots of bite marks on your chest.

Over Lucifer’s shoulder you saw Alastor again, his ears pinned back, eyes half lidded, and his own cum covering his hand. “Magnificent presentation darling” he cheered, cleaning himself and you up with his magic.

The jealous king rolled to the side of the bed, taking you with him. His favorite position, his face between your breasts. Alastor tried to remind himself why he was in such position, then your tail wrapped around his waist and pulled him close to your back, and that was answer enough.

Bliss, only that filled the moment. But as sure as hell, you knew it wasn't going to last.

And it didn't.

When they warn you about the calm before the storm they mean it. The angelic chorus that followed the shot not only forced you to fly off a few kilometers against the cement and earth, but your left arm, black from the fire, fell off, reduced to ashes as soon as you collapsed against a building.

Trying to focus your sore eyes, you managed to see Lilith laying on the ground, and close to her Lucifer, who cradled her on his arms before taking off somewhere.

Meanwhile, memories, the threat, Charlie's order, the moment she dared to pull Alastor's chain and make him feel like a pet. Despite having lost your mind to violence, it never crossed your mind, not even for a moment.

That Lucifer would be capable of launching a divine lightning bolt at you to stop you.

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

Stay tuned the end is near.

#alastor x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #radio demon #cursed cat alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel fanart #alastor x lucifer #alastor fanart #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #radioapple #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #hazbin #hotel hazbin #hazbin hotel #alastor smut #alastor x reader smut #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel smut #alastor fluff #lucifer smut #hazbin alastor #lucifer x reader smut

[conflictedenthuasiast]

Getting into the Stanley Parable when you realise the game is going to be 10 YEARS OLD feels weird sjshskshsk

Like a was essentially a kid when it came out so it makes sense why I didn’t get it but

WHY AM I SO AFFECTED BY IT NOW???? HOW??? WHAT????

I’m so playing this again on my birthday - maybe I’ll even try to get all the achievements but no - I’ll prob just try to annoy the Narrator

#smol child rambles #the stanley parable #the first one #because I didn’t have enough money in my steam account for both that and the ULTRA DELUXE version #all caps for ULTRA DELUXE to emphasise the DELUXEness of it #if that makes sense #it probably doesn’t #I’m making this post because I’m bored and waiting for the bus #I think it’ll be??? 23 minutes or so #wow I’m going to be semi bored for that duration #at least it isn’t too hot today 😫 #should I get the stanley parable ULTRA DELUXE in the next five years of nine years??? #the nine years would be how long it took for it to be released #but the first achievement telling you to go outside is just five years #therefore I can basically tell the narrator HA! I DID GO OUTSIDE YOU FOOL! #maybe I’ll stare at the doggos at the bus stop - they look cute

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Lights Out {3}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: You get a glimpse into the future with Charles and Lando as fathers. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, fluff WC: 1.5k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out One || Two || Three || Four

You collapsed breathless on top of Charles and let your eyes fall shut as the heat inside the SUV soared. Steam fogged the windows and the sounds of your boyfriends panting filled the small space. 

Lando hummed as he sat back on his knees and watched his release, and Charles’, leak out from you. “Missed this pretty mess you make when we fill you up.”

“Putain, oui,” Charles agreed with a deeply satisfied chuckle. “Feels amazing.”

They were absolutely right, it did feel amazing - especially when it had been almost a week since you last had sex. It was almost a record, and not one you wanted to break anytime soon.

“We should head back,” you said despite wanting to stay exactly as you were. “We should also buy something so it actually looks like we went out.”

“Pretty sure your mum knows how much you hate shopping, and do you really want to risk being spotted?”

Lando made a fair point and you climbed off Charles so you could pull your panties back up and push your dress back down. Max’s plane would be tracked to the local airport so soon everyone would know where you were hiding. You would rather savour the peace and quiet before the paparazzi started to haunt you.

Once you got to Austin there would be no place to hide.

Sitting in the backyard of the pub, you watched the sun set over the countryside backdrop with bittersweet happiness. Luka was squealing with joy as Charles tossed him high into the air and Lando was sprawled on the grass with Lio and Mila clambering over him. It was like a little glimpse into the future you would have all too soon, but it still didn’t feel real. 

“What are you doing, hiding in the corner?” Max took a seat beside you on the bench and scanned the groups that had broken off from the crowd. You could smell the gin in his drink and took a sip of your lemonade as you longed for your usual drink. It didn’t help Lando had ordered you Sprite No Sugar, you weren’t even allowed that anymore.

“Just thinking.”

“I tried that once, but it didn’t work out well for me,” he joked, nudging you with his shoulder when he didn’t get a response. “What are you thinking about?”

You sighed and shifted to face him. “Were you scared you were going to mess up Penelope?”

“No,” he scoffed. 

“Right, because you are good at everything,” you nodded solemnly. “Stupid question.”

“No, it’s because I’m not her father, and I’m not trying to be her father because she already has one. So it is not the same.” Max looked to where Lando and Charles had moved onto dancing with the kids. It probably wasn’t quite dancing, but they were all hugging each other and gently swaying to the music. “You three are going to be fine. You’ve got the responsible parent, the fun one and the worrier.”

“I don’t really want to know who you think is who,” you chuckled, feeling a little better. But another thought had plagued you and there was only one person you could admit it to without fear of judgement. “This is going to sound terrible, but I wish she was a boy.”

Max’s brows shot up his face. “Why?”

You toyed with the condensation running down your glass, drawing little pictures as you spoke. “What if she wants to race? It’s in her blood but this industry is tough on girls, Max. I don’t want her going through the same bullshit I had to.”

“You’re worrying about something that is at least 15 years away, zusje. A lot can change in that time. Plus, she will have you, her fathers and a scary uncle who have been there to make sure she gets treated right.”

You looked across at the young man struggling to understand the horse-riding terms Flo was talking about. “Arthur’s not that scary.”

You laughed at the indignant sound Max made. “Okay, you’re right, you’re right. I don’t need to worry about that now. I just need to get through the rest of the season watching someone else race my car.”

“Checo’s contract is up next year, maybe Red Bull will beg you to come back?”

Your laughter caught the attention of your boyfriends and they smiled at the sound before making their way over. “Yeah, that ain’t happening, they can beg all they want - I would rather be seatless.”

Max turned serious. “They saw your data, you know, when you used my sim. It was the best time anyone has pulled from the car. It was impressive as hell.”

“Well if you want personal driving lessons I am happy to assist. I’ll even give you a family discount.”

Max snickered in amusement as the seats opposite the bench were taken. “Now that you are once again unemployed.”

“Don’t let her mother hear you say that,” Lando warned, only half joking. “She’s not unemployed.”

“Yeah,” you placed a hand on your stomach. “I have the best job in the world now as a human incubator. Me and Vick can be ladies of leisure together.”

“She prefers the term influencer,” Max corrected sarcastically.

“What’s the difference?” Charles asked.

“There isn’t any. Now will you come and dance?”

You accepted Lando’s hand and followed him to the outdoor lights that had been turned on.

“Nutty!” Mila called as she ambled towards you with grabby hands. 

“So close, sweetie,” you laughed as you dropped Lando’s hand to pick her up. “Aunty. Aunt-tee.”

“Nutty is kind of accurate,” Max teased as he walked past to where Kelly was talking with Vicky. He did pause for a second as he watched you spin around with Mila and blow a raspberry onto her neck making the toddler giggle. “Zusje, you’re gonna be fine.” 

You looked up over the top of her curls that were only a few shades lighter than Lando’s and found sincerity in your brother's eyes. “Thanks, Max.”

A pair of arms encircled you and Charles’ chin came to rest on your shoulder. “My dance partner has been stolen.”

Lando spun past with Penelope in his arms and you kissed Charles’ cheek. “Mila, look at Dodo, he thinks he’s a better dancer than us.”

She narrowed her eyes at her uncle dancing with the four year old and her brows furrowed before she squirmed to be put down. “Oops, I think someone is a little jealous,” Charles chuckled, pulling you into his arms while you watched with amusement as she made Lando pick her up too. “Should we save him?”

“Nah, he’ll need to learn how to deal with two females soon enough.” You placed your head on Charles’ shoulder and followed his lead, swaying gently to the music that probably demanded more energy.

“You seem happier,” he commented softly.

“It’s amazing what a little sex in a secluded forest can do for the soul.”

Charles laughed and kissed your forehead, his smile etched on your skin. “Chérie, what we did could hardly be called ‘little’ but even afterwards you still weren’t…I don’t know what the word is…you seem more like yourself.”

You smiled a little as he stumbled over the words. “I’m getting there.”

“I know you will.” He gave up the pretence of dancing and just held you as Lando extracted himself from the girls and they ran off to their mothers before making his way to join you. “We will make sure of it.”

Lando’s warm body pressed against your back and his arms wrapped around you to hold Charles’ hips. “So I was thinking of names…Tulip.”

“Um, no.”

“Hear me out, it’s kind if Dutch and it’s a flower which is pretty cool-”

“Non, mon cher, keep thinking.”

“Daisy?”

You shook your head and he groaned as he was shut down again. “Daphne?”

It was your turn to groan. “No more Bridgerton for you.”

“Clover?”

You paused and his grin widened. “I’m not opposed to that one, but keep brainstorming.”

“How about Juniper?”

“Daddy, where does my name come from?” you asked in a higher pitched voice as you wrinkled your nose.”Well mummy drank lots and lots of Gin one night and that is how you were made.”

“Oh, right,” Lando laughed awkwardly. “I forgot it’s in Gin.”

“It is a good thing we have time,” Charles hummed, holding you both tighter. “There’s no rush finding the perfect name.”

Lando conceded for the moment and fell silent, and you felt content to stay cocooned until your stomach rumbled louder than the music. Your warmth disappeared as they stepped away laughing. “Come on, love. Dinner should be ready.”

Click here for the next part.

#lando norris fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #lando norris imagine #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

relax

Summary: Frankie knows just the thing to make you forget about your shitty workweek and make you excited for your honeymoon. And it's not just the glass of wine he is offering....

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2k

Rating: E

Warnings: established relationship, toxic work environment, Frankie being the best hubby, nakedness, teasing, flirting, banter, alcohol, spitting, smut (oral f receiving)

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You released a long sigh after you parked your car behind Frankie’s in the driveway, letting your head fall back against the headrest of your seat, your eyes closing as you took a deep breath. 

Home at last. 

It had been a very busy week at work. Which could have to do with the fact that you now officially had a whole week off and the head of your department made you feel like taking a whole week off was an attack against him personally so he had you working overtime and made sure to call you out at every chance he got about the audacity of taking days off. 

You should really quit your job. 

You had joked to Frankie about selling pictures of your feet instead, but the longer you thought about it, the more appealing the idea became. 

He did tell you you had pretty feet….

Shaking your head you opened your eyes. 

It was very not feminist of you to dream about being a stay at home wife and mom and not having to bother with work. But god did you wish for exactly that.

But all of this would be a problem for after vacation you. In twenty four hours you would be on a plane to Hawaii on the honeymoon you had been looking forward to ever since you married your husband almost nine months ago. 

The wedding had been a small spontaneous affair, so Frankie and you had decided to save up for a big and luxurious honeymoon.

Getting out of the car you immediately got out of your heels, bending down to pick them up before you made your way towards the front door. 

The house was a work in process. Both you and Frankie enjoyed spending your free time working on slowly finishing up your forever home.

You unlocked the door, your shoulders immediately relaxing as you stepped inside. You could hear music coming from further inside the house, and if you had to guess, you’d think that Frankie was in the kitchen. Something you confirmed as you walked deeper into your house as your nose inhaled the scent of garlic and tomatoes and herbs. 

Frankie had cooked dinner the whole week, his work times more flexible, perks of being his own boss. Him and Will had opened a gym in the last year which was gaining more and more members. A joint effort of them being good at their jobs, and their office manager/ social media person posting thirst traps of all the Delta guys working out to the gym’s instagram account. 

You watched your husband for a couple of moments, his broad back towards you. You could see that his hair was still wet, dome drops of water having dropped to his shoulders, darkening the fabric of the grey shirt he was wearing. 

He was so damn attractive. You still asked yourself, how a man like him ended up not only choosing your but loving you so deeply, you sometimes did not know how you deserved it. 

„Honey I’m home,“ you smiled as you walked towards him, pressing your chest against his back, your arms wrapping around him as you took a deep breath, inhaling his fresh scent. 

„Finally,“ he said and you smiled before he turned in your arms and pulled you against his chest. 

„Hi,“ you smiled sleepily up at him and he smiled back. 

„Hi,“ he kissed you softly. 

„Good timing. Another ten minutes and I would have come and got you,“ he whispered and you smiled, your chin resting against his chest as you looked up at him. 

„Would have loved to see that. Bet my boss would not dare to talk to you like he did to me,“ you sighed and he frowned. 

„He’s still being an asshole?“ He asked and you just shrugged. 

„When isn’t he?“ You asked and Frankie shook his head before he kissed your forehead. 

„But now you’re free for a whole 9 days. And I am gonna make sure my wife is gonna do nothing but relax,“ he promised and you smiled. 

„Yeah?“ You asked and he nodded. 

„Starting with dinner. Then I’m gonna run you a bath while I finish packing our suitcases and then I’m gonna eat your little pussy until you pass out and fall asleep,“ he winked and you raised your eyebrows in interest. 

„Seems like you got it all planned out, huh?“ You grinned and he nodded, before his lips found yours again. 

„Been thinking about it all day,“ he mumbled, slowly kissing down your jaw, his hands both running down your body until both of them rested on your ass, pushing you against him and you could feel his hard cock pressing against you.  

„How I’m gonna make you sit in the armchair in the bedroom,“ he mumbled in between kisses.

„How I’m gonna make out with your perfect little pussy until the asshole who moved in next door can hear you screaming my name while I make you cum over,“ he bit softly into your neck, „and over,“ he moved his hips, „and over,“ he bit again and you gasped, already dripping into your panties. 

„But first,“ he hummed before he looked at you with a grin, „we gonna have dinner,“ he slapped your ass and took a step back to finish cooking and you groaned loudly, hearing him snicker. 

„Mean,“ you pouted and he turned his head to look at you. 

„You love it,“ he winked and you sighed before a small smile formed on your face and you stepped closer to him, getting on your tiptoes. 

„Payback is a bitch, Morales,“ you hummed against his ear, one of your hands running up his thigh, before you softly squeezed his half hard cock through his sweatpants. 

He turned his head to look at you. 

„Bring it on, Morales,“ he winked. 

You could hear him humming in the bedroom next door, having just gotten out of the bathtub feeling more relaxed then you had in a while. Setting your glass of wine down on the sink you reached for your body lotion, beginning to rub it into your skin. 

You were glad you had scheduled a waxing appointment on the last weekend, leaving your skin super soft as your fingers rubbed over it. 

When you were finished you eyed your robe hanging at the door, before a small smirk sneaked to your face. Grabbing the wine glass you made your way towards the bedroom, deciding to find out how your husband would react if he found you waiting all naked for him. 

Leaning in the door you watched him kneel on the ground in front of both of your suitcases which had been packed to military precision. You did not even bother to try to pack your suitcase anymore, knowing Frankie was doing a way better job anyway.

Letting your head fall against the door as you watched him you smiled. 

„You enjoyed your bath?“ He asked, having noticed but not seen you. 

„Very. I feel refreshed and very relaxed,“ you hummed, taking another sip from your glass of wine. 

„Perfect. And great timing. I finished packing so we can enjoy our evening and get to….“ The rest of his sentence died on his lips as his head turned over his shoulder to look at you, eyes widening when he saw you waiting for him, completely naked. 

„What are we going to do baby?“ You teased with a grin and he groaned, before he turned around, still on his knees. 

„I know what I am going to do,“ he said, his voice hoarse.

Licking your lips, your bit into your bottom lip, before you slowly walked over to one of the armchairs that were sitting in front of the window, sitting down. 

Crossing your legs you gave him a coy smile. 

„And what are you going to do?“ You asked.

„Worship the woman that I love,“ he said before he made his way towards you, on his knees. If you wouldn’t already be naked, his eyes would have undressed you, his fingertips drawing a line up your leg as he reached you, leaving goosebumps all over you. 

He kissed you knee as he knelt at your feet, before he slowly uncrossed your legs and parted them so he could sit down between them. His eyes never left yours as he slowly kissed up your inner thigh, humming against your skin. He pulled one of your legs over his shoulder, inhaling you deeply when his nose brushed over your clit. 

You were about to set the glass of wine you had down, when he stopped you, shaking his head. 

„Want you to relax and drink it while I….“ He kissed all around your pussy and you exhaled with a sigh, the hand that was not holding your glass coming to brush through his soft hair. 

„God I missed this,“ he groaned, his tongue licking up a straight line from your opening to your clit, making you whimper. 

„It hasn’t even been a week,“ you smiled, your fingers scratching over his scalp, making him shiver. 

„Five days. Too damn long,“ he grunted before he got to work. His tongue lazily playing with your clit, in no rush to make you cum. 

He was playing the long game and you were there for the ride. 

By the time you were getting desperate, your glass was empty. 

Emptying your glass, your eyes on Frankie you moaned softly when his tongue dipped inside of you, the moan he released downright pornographic as he tasted you. 

„Always taste so fucking good for me,“ he hummed and you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth.

Sometimes you had the urge to film him when he was between your legs, pleasuring you, because you had never met a man who enjoyed eating pussy so much. 

You wanted another reminder of how much the man you had married loved you. 

„Oh fuck,“ you moaned when two of his fingers entered you. 

He parted from you only to spit against your pussy, making you gasp, fingers still inside of you, going straight for that spot that made your whole body shake, your hand setting your wine glass down as his lips went back, sucking your clit into his mouth.

And suddenly you were close. 

„Shit baby. Move your fingers… yeah… just like… oh fuck,“ you moaned, your hands now playing with your tits, Frankie’s unoccupied hand coming up to cover your right hand on your tit while he worked your body towards your orgasm. 

„I’m gonna cum….“ you whimpered, your hips moving against his mouth as his tongue flicked over your clit, your body shaking as you came, moaning his name, your hand buried in his hair, keeping him close as he lapped at you until you relaxed, practically melting into the chair. 

Softly he continued to lick you until he pulled his fingers out, making a big show of sucking them clean. 

„I love you,“ you sighed and he grinned, his cheek resting against your thigh.

„You only say that because I just ate your pussy,“ he joked, winking at you and you huffed a laugh. 

„True. But I also love you when you not eat my pussy,“ you said and he laughed. 

„I’m glad,“ he said, kissing your inner thigh. 

„And as much as I like seeing you on your knees for me, I think you should get up,“ you grinned at him and he raised his left eyebrow. 

„I think you should get up and lay down on your back on our very comfy bed and get out of your clothes,“ you said all serious, while drawing a line with your finger down to your chest, his eyes following your movement. 

„And why is that?“ He asked. 

„Cause I wanna ride your cock.“

#my fic #Frankie Morales #Frankie Morales x fem. reader #Pedro Pascal #francisco morales #fanfiction #fanfic #frankie morales fanfiction #fan ficion #pedro pascal characters

[ellewritesalright]

Nine Long Years - Part 7/?

Nikolai Lantsov x Rietveld!reader, Kaz Brekker x sister!Rietveld!reader (platonic)

Part 1 --- Part 2 --- Part 3 --- Part 4 --- Part 5 --- Part 6

Synopsis: After watching your brothers die, you found yourself working on the Volkvolny. In the many years since then, you somehow became the queen of Ravka while your brother somehow survived firepox and life in the Barrel, rising through its ranks. In disguise during a diplomatic trip with your husband Nikolai, you meet Kaz Brekker for what you think is the first time, only to find out that he is your long-thought-dead little brother.

Author's Note: Well... long time no see. I'm happy to finally share this part. it's been several months in the works since I have been very busy with college. So thank you to all who have stuck around. This part takes place around the start of the Ruin and Rising book, and is a fair bit shorter than the last few parts have been (btw I can't believe I've written over 40k words for this series) but I hope you all like it. I went a bit easier with the angst than I expected by giving these two a slight break

Warnings: mentions of death, angst and fluff, mentions of sickness, injury, panic attacks, firepox. If I'm missing something pls lmk

Word Count: 3,570

……….

SIXTH YEAR

Genya's handiwork stung. Though she was fixing your injuries, the nature of her Corporalki abilities was that she had to undo your injuries in a similar process as their infliction. You tried not to complain as she treated your fractured and cut shoulder, but you were still swallowing back a scream. Tamar ran a soothing hand along your head as she and Tolya held you down.

"Hold still for me." You could vaguely hear Genya say.

You gave a slight nod, all you could manage at the moment. The pain was excruciating. There was fire all along your shoulder blade and up and over to the corner of your collarbone where the Darlking's nichevo'ya had clawed at you. Like sticking a red hot iron to flesh. You were biting down so hard on the handle of Tamar's axe that you thought you might break a tooth. The Tailor's hands hovered over your shoulder and your body jolted but Tolya tightened his grip.

Everything was dark. It never occurred to you how musty and dank an underground tunnel system would be. You'd never considered a place like this could even exist. But here you were, below ground, in the darkest, dankest little "room" you'd ever been in. And no amount of candles or incense trays staved your new fear of the dark.

When you closed your eyes, you could see Nikolai. The way his eyes frantically found yours across the room. How he screamed when his brother was torn apart by the Darkling's shadow creatures. The silent nod of understanding as you guarded Alina while he helped his parents escape.

You wondered where he was now. With any luck, Nikolai escaped on the Kingfisher. He was safe and sound and able to fight the war while Alina and the rest of you were all underground. He had to be safe. Saints above and below, by the grace of Ghezen, and on the holiness of even the Fjerdan god, he had to be safe.

Because if he wasn't, you simply wouldn't know what to do. 

You felt the pain end, and you glanced back at the trio of corporalki behind you.

"There," Genya spoke softly, easing her hands away from your shoulder. "This is about all I can do. The scarring doesn't go away completely."

Her eyes dropped in shame, one of the scars on her cheek pulling as she frowned slightly. Tamar and Tolya had released you, and you sat up. You gently took Genya's hand, giving her a grateful smile.

"You've healed me to full strength, and that's all that matters," you said kindly. "Thank you."

She smiled back at you.

……….

Time blurred together underground. You were still guarding Alina, and you'd constantly accompany her through the elaborate tunnels. You didn't trust the Apparat running this little underground cult. He had come to Alina's aid, that was true enough. But there was no doubt in your mind that the snivelly, power-hungry little man had some ulterior motive. Nikolai had told you about him many years ago while at sea.

"The religious counsel to my father is a weasel of a fellow. That man would bite the head off a live snake if it meant he would gain control of a single chapel, let alone the whole of Ravka," Nikolai said of the Apparat. 

You could only hope Alina wasn't the snake in this case.

You worried for your sun summoner. It was no wonder that you all looked worn after your fight with the Darkling, but most of you had healed up despite your weariness. Yet Alina didn't seem to recover. She had lost use of her summoning in the past few months. It was difficult to say if that was because you were so far away from the sun, or because of the strain from her last fight with the Darkling; either way, you'd never seen her look so pale and sickly. 

"It doesn't seem like anything helps her," Mal worriedly whispered to you one evening as you two ate off to the side of the usual huddle your group maintained. "Not water, or food, or any sort of activity."

"She probably just needs sun," you said, trying to ease his mind. "Once we figure out how to escape this place, we'll get her above ground and she'll be better."

"What if that's not all? When she fought the Darkling--"

"Don't think on it, Oretsev." You cut him off. "That's no way to be, with your worrying. We'll get her out, and she'll get better. That's it."

Mal let out a long sigh and went back to eating.

Your words had carried conviction. You had no idea how your group would escape, but you didn't mention that. It was all you could do to lift your friends' spirits, even though you were as unsettled as you'd felt since you were a girl in a Ketterdam harbour.

In the evenings, you roomed with Tamar and Tolya. Often sleeping between them, their breathing--and Tolya's snoring--reminded you that you were alive and somehow safe, no matter how temporary.

But even so, the dank underground smelled like death. It was like you were back on the cobbles of Ketterdam, seeing your brothers in every corner of every dark cavern in this place. They haunted you, even here. And, with no one to distract you from them, no one to hold you and reassure you that you weren't at fault for their sickness, their ghosts dogged you all hours of the day.

There were a few children underground, and sometimes when they'd cry you could just feel the sobs your baby brother cried against your shoulder when Da had passed away. You could taste the sick you emptied into the harbour after you lost your brothers. 

It occurred to you that maybe this was your lot in life; maybe you were just meant to be haunted. You were plagued, for lack of a better word.

You couldn't count how many times a day your mind strayed to Nikolai. Worries or memories would surface, and you were unable to stave them just as you couldn't stave thoughts of your family. Truthfully, you didn't want to keep them at bay anymore. If you could die tomorrow and join your brothers, you would rather die with Nikolai in your thoughts than with nothing but fear and grief dogging your brain.

The anger you'd harboured for Nikolai had vanished. Your grudge seemed so insignificant now that you were separated like this. Everything seemed insignificant when you were trapped in a tomb.

At night the only reprieve you had from all the ghosts was when you'd finally fall asleep, your fingers clutching Nikolai's ring on the chain around your neck. 

……….

When you and your friends finally surfaced again, it was a mad dash escape from that weasel and his cult. 

You were running through some forest with them. You had no idea where you surfaced, all you knew was that it wasn't just the Aparat's cult after you, but a sect of Vasily's old Grisha-hating First Army. The soldiers were hot on your tails as you dashed through the trees. Tolya and Tamar were on your right, Genya was to your left, and Alina and Mal were slightly ahead of you. Shots were being fired behind you, and you weaved and ducked to avoid bullets as you ran aimlessly. Some of the Grisha you were travelling with used their skills to take on those in pursuit of you, but there were too many of them. 

Just when it felt as though you would never make it out of this forest and away from the soldiers, you heard a familiar shouting of command. Repeat revolvers starting gunning from above, and you grabbed Genya and ducked to the side as the Kingfisher flew overhead, taking out your remaining foes. 

It was all a blur as the flying ship landed. Your mind was whirring as Genya helped you to your feet, guiding you to the ship. You watched the others climb aboard, then you took your turn as well. As you clutched the wooden rails, you remembered the last time you'd been on this vessel, how you fell asleep below deck, curled up against Nikolai.

Nikolai.

As soon as he reentered your mind, your head was whipping around to catch sight of him, for surely he was here. It didn't take you long to hone in on him. He was speaking with Mal, grim expressions on both of their faces. Alina was there too, guzzling down a water flask; she looked automatically healthier now that she was out of the dirt and into the sun, but still not at full strength. Your eyes went to Nikolai again, and he seemed to be glancing around as well. When his eyes locked on yours, you swore you almost started to cry. The tension in his brow loosened, his strong shoulders relaxing for a second before he quickly excused himself from Mal and Alina. He strode directly over to you, bracing you in a hug. You clutched him back, face bundled in his chest as he gripped you so tightly.

There was a long moment in his arms as you embraced, but you both needed it. You'd gone months without knowing if each other were alive, much less alright.

"Thank every Saint that ever was," Nikolai chuckled in relief as he held you. He leaned back, bracing your arms. He noticed the rip in your jacket where the nichevo’ya had cut up your shoulder in the chapel. While the cult was able to provide a new shirt and trousers for you, there'd been no replacement jacket for you underground. "That's no good. Here." 

He shed his military coat and slung it over you. He dusted off the sleeves as you just stood there watching him. You'd almost forgotten how warm his hazel eyes were.

"Are you alright?" He whispered, his hands still holding to your forearms almost as if reminding himself that you were really there in front of him.

There was no way to tell him about your time underground, about the scar on your shoulder and the feeling that maybe your whole life was just haunted. It took everything in you to reply with hope.

"Better now," you whispered back, nodding softly.

He smiled regretfully at you. You knew him well enough to know that he had something to say, but you weren't going to pressure it out of him. The last time you'd seen him you were still upset with him over his engagement–something that felt inconsequential now. Months away from him had turned your anger to dust, and now you just wanted to wipe clean and move on as best as you could--with or without him.

Nikolai looked at you for a moment, then hugged you again. He whispered something in Kerch, an old saying that you could remember your Ma and Da saying to one another when you were younger and your world was a farm and a family that was whole.

"My soul knows no richer than yours," he muttered into your ear, speaking your native tongue in his pretty lilt.

You teared up slightly. Your hand made a weak fist against his chest as you replied in Kerch. "You're infuriating."

"I know." 

He cupped your cheek, and you leaned into his palm, staring at his soft hazel eyes.

"Go below deck, and I'll join you in a moment, alright?" He whispered kindly.

You nodded and made your way below. It took Nikolai longer than expected to join. There were others below deck, a few injured Grisha and Nikolai's First Army soldiers being tended to. You watched bones being reset, blood being transferred, and breathing assisted. You flinched as one of the soldiers coughed up blood, making a hauntingly familiar noise. Just as you looked away for fear of nausea, a hand grabbed yours. Nikolai had sat down beside you, and he gave your hand a comforting squeeze.

He let you lean into his side as the two of you sat there in silence.

……….

The Kingfisher flew for nearly a half hour more, but Nikolai stayed with you below deck until they had to dock the flying ship. When you arrived at the Spinning Wheel, there were lots of Grisha-friendly First Army there to greet everyone. The rescued were all led to different rooms, and as someone approached you to get you settled, Nikolai murmured something to them. They nodded and helped you through the winding hallways. You were given a bedroom with an adjoining bathroom, and you wondered what you'd done to earn a private space like this. Surely many people at the Spinning Wheel had to share rooms. 

Once you were alone, you shed your dank, dirt-covered cult clothes and discarded them in the bedroom while you ran a bath for yourself. 

As you sank into the warm water you let your mind settle. It felt odd to feel safe again. After your time below ground, you didn’t know when you’d feel this way again, but you were grateful it was now.

There was a soft knock on the bathroom door, and you heard Nikolai's voice.

“I took your clothes to the washers and brought you clean trousers and a shirt. I'll leave them just outside the door here for when you're finished your bath," he said kindly.

"Thank you," you called out, your voice slightly unsteady. 

The thought of Nikolai on the other side of the door made your heart race. There was something about the moment that felt distinctly like your first trip to West Ravka back when you began to know him more as Nikolai than Sturmhond. The separation by only a door felt as excruciating as it used to feel watching him get into bed beside you without being able to reach for him. Prudence and politeness governed you both so strictly back them, and it had taken reign once again.

You shut your eyes and tried to relax some more in the bath, but your peace had shattered at the thought of Nikolai being so near yet so out of your reach.

You huffed to yourself as you got out of the bath and dried off. You took the clothes Nikolai had left for you and dressed yourself. The layers of soft white linen were slightly thin, but certainly not unappreciated. After months in the same clothes that you were rarely allowed to wash, you were overdue for something clean and fresh. 

Without realizing it, your feet carried you to your bedroom door. It wasn't as though you knew where anything was in this place, but you twisted the knob and stepped into the hallway anyways. You made it two steps before you realized he was there, leaning against the wall beside your door.

"Hi," he said, blushing slightly.

You nodded at him. "Hi."

"Can we talk?" He asked, his eyes earnest.

You nodded again, stepping back into your room and letting him follow.

There were no other chairs or seating in the room, so you sat on the edge of your bed.

Nikolai sat a respectable distance beside you. "I wanted to tell you that--what's this?" 

His eyes were on your shirt's wide collar, where the edge of your shoulder scar peeked out. You hooked a finger into your collar, pulling it to show a bit more of the scar as you angled your back to him too.

"Oh… it's from the nichevo’ya. One just barely nicked my shoulder as we first escaped into the tunnels." You felt a slight sting as he gently grazed his thumb along it. You relished his touch and the reminder that he was alive and with you so much so that you didn't even mind the sting. "Genya says it's permanent."

"I should have been there," he murmured.

You shook your head, turning back to look at him. "No, I'm glad you weren't. You needed to be above ground."

"I should have been with you." His eyes had that earnest look crossed with slight guilt.

"You had to get your parents to safety and rally what was left of the First Army, Nikolai."

"I wanted to be with you." He said as he held your hand, interlocking your fingers. "You're the woman I love, and I thought of you every second of every day I wasn't with you. Saints, I need you more than I need air."

You leaned closer to him, pressing your forehead against his collarbone. It wasn't meant in any romantic way, more just as a silent way to express that you loved him too, that you cared deeply for him. He brought his one arm around your shoulder as the other still held your hand.

"That's why I'm not going through with it," he said, and you could feel the rumble of his words against your head.

"With what?" You whispered.

"The engagement with Alina."

You leaned back slightly to look in his eyes. "What?"

He thumbed along your cheek. "Once the war is won, Alina and I will not be getting married. She and I have spoken already."

"But what about the unification of Ravka and the first and second army?"

"That can happen some other way." He looked deeply into your eyes. "But once we've won this war, I only want one thing."

You sighed and gave him a sad smile. "Niko–"

"Will you marry me?"

Your breath caught in your chest.

There was a time you thought he would ask you this, before you landed in Ravka more permanently, before you got launched into this war against the Darkling. But you knew he still had his ambitions.

"Is it because your brother's dead? Because you're guaranteed to be king now?" You asked.

He sighed and shook his head. It was hard to tell if he'd expected any apprehension from you. "It's because I love you. More than anything else I could ever think of. When I first arrived at the Spinning Wheel, everyone else whined about the cold of the mountains or the fact that they missed tea service and their evening kvas, but all I missed was you." He gently squeezed your hand. "Every day I spent not knowing if you were safe, if you were alive… I could barely sleep, barely eat… You're all I could ever want."

The look in his eyes was reminiscent of his soft yet resolute stare when he’d placed that crown on your head. It felt like a lifetime ago that he whispered honey in your ears and you listened without a shred of apprehension. But right now this wasn’t honey. This was raw. This was real. This was Nikolai in a state of total resolve. And you knew you wouldn’t be made a fool if you accepted him.

"I am all you want?" you whispered in response, your lips curling upwards slightly.

"You are. I want to spend my life with you," he smiled. "Will you marry me?"

“Yes." You nodded, a full smile forming on your lips. “I'll marry you. Of course I will.”

Nikolai broke into a grin. He cupped your cheeks and kept grinning at you, his eyes locked with yours. “Saints, I love you more than anything.” He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, then dipped down to capture your lips.

It was the first you’d kissed him in months and months. Truly, you hadn’t felt his lips on yours since before you’d crossed the fold. It ignited a forgotten hunger in you, and you kissed him back with a deep longing.

“I missed you,” he murmured as you pulled back for a moment. You noticed tears in his eyes. “I was so stupid, and I’m sorry for how I treated you. I never should have proposed to Alina, or made you feel like I only wanted you in secret. I want you, I’m proud to want you, and I never want my love for you to be a secret. I want you as my queen–my truest companion, as you have always been. I just… I want you.”

You kissed him again, wrapping your arms around him. You leaned so far against him that he rested his back against the headboard, bringing you with him. You missed the closeness with him, the intimacy of being pressed into his body as you kissed. Your fingers threaded into his golden hair as you sighed into his soft lips.

“Do you forgive me?” He whispered and you took in a breath.

Your fingers idly traced the skin right above his shirt collar. “I’ll forgive you once you get me a ring and make it official.”

“I gave you a ring years ago, my dear.” His finger went to the chain around your neck, and he pulled it loose from under your shirt, making his old silver ring dangle between you. “One could argue that we’ve been engaged all this time.”

“Then one could also argue that you were most definitely cheating on your fiance when you proposed to someone else,” you smirked at him.

“Ouch. I deserved that,” he chuckled.

He cupped your face again, his palms warm against your skin.

“I’ll get you a new ring. Something regal and fit for the most beautiful queen Ravka will ever know, moi tsaritsa.”

You smiled and leaned down to kiss him again. “Good.”

..........

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment on this new part--I really appreciate the feedback! If you want to be tagged in this series or to be added to the Nikolai taglist please comment on this part or send me an ask. Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)

Masterlist

Taglist: I will reblog this part with the tags because there's too many of you to tag and tumblr won't let me do it all at once :)

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov fic #grishaverse fanfic #nine long years

[jinnie-ret]

I’m not entirely sure if you’d write this or not but could you write stray kids and like trainee reader who has divorced parents and is crying? You don’t have to write this and I understand if you don’t. If you do thank you

togetherness

stray kids x ninth member!reader (platonic)

genre: very angsty

content warnings: divorce, allusions to a panic attack

word count: 2.7k

summary: out of all things, the last thing you expected to hear was that your parents are getting a divorce, but it was fortunate that the boys were there to hold you together

Thank you for the request! I did something silly and accidentally wrote it as a ninth member instead of a trainee, but she is still the maknae of the group so I hope that is still ok :)

MAIN MASTERLIST

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Ever since Stray Kids was confirmed to debut after the survival show all nine of you took part in, life had been a whirlwind. From training in the practice room to releasing several tracks, getting your first win was like a dream come true. Of course it would be 'Miroh' that people gave you recognition for, you couldn't deny how how much you loved the track too. However, there was a small part of you, scrap that, a big part of you that hoped '3rd Eye' would also gain that same level of attention. It's not a crime to be obsessed with your own music now, is it?

Due to how busy you had been, it had been just over a year since you had seen your parents, and for today to finally be the day you'd get to see them, you were practically bouncing off of the walls, so much so that the boys couldn't stop laughing at you, fondness radiating through all of them. You were the youngest, after all, only 14 when the show happened, and they had seen you grow so much already.

"Y/Nnie, calm down," Changbin chuckled as he tried to hold onto the sides of your arms, but you couldn't contain yourself as you excitedly paced up and down the wooden floors of the lounge.

"I can't help it... I'm so excited! I haven't seen them in ages, I missed them so much!" you cheered, accidentally bumping into Minho in the process.

He slowly turned around from his spot in the kitchen, stopping his minor task of pouring some juice.

"Do you like oranges, Y/N?" Minho turned to face you with a sinister grin.

"Oranges? I love orang-" you shrugged momentarily in confusion before gasping as he held the juice over your head.

"3,2..."

"Ah! Don't! I washed my hair today and everything!" you were rapid in your movements as you ducked away and took cover between Felix and Jeongin.

"Don't sacrifice us!" Jeongin's eyes were wide.

"Ah, you're being so cute today, Y/Nnie," Felix giggled, patting your head.

"Have you got everything you need, menace?" Chan asked you, letting out a laugh when you scrunched your nose at him in response.

"If anyone's a menace, it's Hannie, but yes," you answered his question whilst also turning the spotlight to Jisung, who was currently trying to grab Hyunjin's hair and tie it with a scrunchie of yours he had stolen.

"Who, me?" Jisung feigned innocence.

"Ah!" Hyunjin jumped not noticing Jisung behind him. "Bro, what are you doing?"

"Giving you a new hairstyle, Y/Nnie lets me do it all the time," Jisung shrugged, moving away from Hyunjin as it was clear his mission had failed.

"Yeah, small problem, Hyunjin's hair isn't long enough," Seungmin pointed out, making you laugh.

"I want to see Jinnie with long hair, woah," you nodded in approval at the idea.

"Y/N, you're getting distracted again," Changbin directed you towards the front door. He couldn't hide his smirk as he shook his head at your antics.

"It's like you're trying to get rid of me," you pouted, turning around with your hands on your hips.

"Never, but you really need to go," Minho joined him at the front door, jokingly pushing you out the door, making Felix yell out in surprise.

"Don't push the maknae!"

"Ok, ok, I'm going," you laughed, brushing a hand through your hair making sure it was perfect and not a single strand was out of place.

"Bye Y/N!" you heard them yell out in goodbye, before you made your way to the Korean BBQ place that wasn't too far away from your dorms. Initially you were going to go for a café, but your dad insisted that you see each other at your favourite kind of place.

And there they were, waving at you from across the road, small smiles on their faces that gree bigger the closer you got to them.

"Mum! Dad!" you ran up to them as you embraced them into a tight hug, their arms wrapping around you in return, both you and your mum getting teary eyed.

"Oh, I missed you so much sweetheart," she cuddled you closer to her, and pulled away as your dad planted a kiss on your forehead.

"Come on, darling, I bet you're hungry," your dad poked your cheek as he guided you through, sorting out the details of the reservation as you all sat down and began to catch up.

"I'm so glad I got some time off to see you, I just, I missed you so much," you sniffled, wiping your tears away before you full on sobbed in front of them.

"Aigoo, don't cry my dear," your mum wiped your tears as she dabbed a tissue across your cheeks and wrapped you in a side hug.

"We're so proud of you, Y/N, I know for sure we can both say that," your dad awkwardly glanced across at your mum, not that you noticed this exchange, too happy to be simply in their presence again.

"Thank you, I'm glad I can make you proud," you smile widely, your mum nodding along.

"You've achieved so much already, are the boys taking care of you, hmm?" she questioned, shifting her body to face yours more.

"-and then by the end of it we all just ended up falling asleep in the practice room, but I didn't mind, it was so comfortable, they truly are my brothers," you gushed as you retold one of your favourite stories of one of your earlier memories in your trainee days, just showing how strong your bond with the group was.

Whilst all of this was happening, your parents both had a nervous demeanour about them, not fully engaged in your story, something heavier weighing on their minds. How would their only child react when they told them?

"I-is something wrong? Oh, I'm rambling again aren't I, sorry, you can tell I haven't changed much," you finally picked up on their silences, the change of their normally relaxed mannerisms more apparent than ever.

"No, no, it's perfectly alright sweetheart, we just..." your mum trailed off, not knowing how to approach the topic.

"We have something to tell you, Y/N," your dad finished off your mum's sentence.

"Oh, what is it?" your heart dropped, sensing the serious tone coming through in the conversation. You fiddled with the chopsticks in front of you, trying to stabilise yourself, not knowing what was to come.

"There's no easy way to say this, darling, but... Your mum and I, we're getting a divorce," your dad couldn't look you in the eyes as he said this, wishing he could pretend he was looking for a waiter yet the enclosed booth you were in prevented him from doing so.

"No," you instantly said, disbelieving the words you had just heard, sure you had misinterpreted his words. In your strong reaction, you firmly placed the chopsticks down, head moving left and right as you glanced back and forth between your parents. A trio of a family, now split into three.

"Sweetheart, please, don't make this difficult," your mum began, sighing as she stared down at the table.

"D-don't make this difficult?! You're getting a divorce!" you leant back away from them, struggling to take in the situation as your heart raced.

"It hasn't been easy for us, please understand, Y/N," your dad pitched in, "we've been thinking about this for a long time now."

"How long?" your voice broke as you got quieter, the sight of your eyes welling up with tears breaking the hearts of your parents.

"For around four years now," your mum winced as she admitted how long their relationship had been in turmoil.

"Four, four years?!" your hands shook as you covered your face, absolutely devastated. Anyone that knew your family would have said it was absolutely perfect, even the boys who had only seen them on a few occasions.

"We had to make it work for you, Y/N, darling," your dad tried to grab your hand but you ripped it away from him, getting rid of that opportunity.

"You're putting this on me?" your voice wobbles, tears freely running down your face, leaving trails of grief in its wake. A grievance mourning the loss of something you'd never get back.

"Listen, we wanted to stay together for you, you just got into JYP, but now you've debuted we thought..."

"You thought I could handle it? Because my life is 'sorted'?! It's quite the opposite now," you sniffled, wiping your nose with the back of your hoodie sleeve.

"Y/N, we had to do this sweetheart, for the better," your mum tried to reason with you, tears of her own present.

"No, no, I... I can't," you scrambled out from your seat, running out of the restaurant without even having any of the food yet.

"Y/N!!!"

"Darling!"

Your parents desperately called after you, but you kept running away, finding a seat on a park bench to try and process everything that had just happened. They were divorcing, just like that. Were all the happy memories in your childhood as fake as the ones they created when they had been convincing you all this time that you were still a happy family? It wasn't fair. Could you even trust the words that left either of them now that they had revealed their biggest secret to you?

Without even knowing, your feet guided you away from the bustling streets of Seoul back to your true home. The family you had found solace in, that you'd be soon to find solace in once more, but for different reasons this time.

Like your body was on autopilot, your key twisted into the door of your shared apartment and you dropped your small bag to the floor, instantly falling to the ground as your knees buckled. You weren't aware of how bad of a state you were in, the mascara from your light makeup you applied earlier on in the day, now smudged under your eyes and faintly across the apples of your cheeks. Your chest heaved as you gasped for air, unable to comprehend everything that had just happened. You didn't even feel the arms that had wrapped around you and brought you to their lap, cradling you into the safety of their warmth.

"Miss, please, it's ok, she just got here, she's safe, I think, ummm, do you want to come to our dorm? I can send the address?" Chan hurriedly spoke into his phone as he glanced over at Jeongin holding you tightly to him, the other boys around you trying to provide you with enough space but their comfort at the same time.

"I, I think it's better if we don't," the voice of your mum sighed from the other side of the phone.

"What? But- oh," Chan was ready to convince them to come over and ask what had brought you to such a distressed state, but the call had already been ended from the other side.

"It's ok, you're ok, Y/N, just take some deep breaths ok? Ok?" Changbin whispered into your ear, trying to help you slow down not only your breathing, but your mind too as you were clearly in your own head.

Jeongin rubbed your back in soothing circles, and after a while, you felt yourself slowly calm down, alongside Jisung's instructions to breathe deeply, and the soothing feeling of someone scratching your scalp, who you found out later was Felix.

The boys were the only people who could ground you in this moment, providing you with the comfort the rest of your support system failed to do. Your thoughts were still in a whirlwind yet you managed to tune back into your surroundings.

"You're ok, that's it, well done love," Chan's voice broke through, as your tight grip on Jeongin's t-shirt lessened and your body was ever so slightly less tense.

"We should move her to the sofa," Hyunjin spoke quietly, as if he was afraid to break the calm you began to feel.

And so, you numbly walked to the sofa with the help of Seungmin's hand resting on your back, pulling you down gently to sit next to him. Like you normally would, you rested your head on his shoulder. But this was far from a normal situation.

"Y/N?" Changbin asked tentatively, hoping you'd respond. "Look at me, aegi."

"Mmm?" you made a sound with your croaky throat, sore from your crying which the boys were thankful for their own souls that they didn't have to listen to it anymore. They feared it would permanently leave an imprint on their hearts, so they were worried at what on Earth had happened to you.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Chan slowly questioned you, a gentleness behind his eyes that nearly made you tear up again.

What did happen? What would happen now?

"They... my, my parents, they're getting a divorce," your voice cracked again and you internally scolded yourself for it as the boys looked geared up to protect you at any cost.

"A divorce?" Felix gasped.

"Oh, no, oh Y/Nnie," Jisung sighed sympathetically.

"I just don't get why... why now?" you held your head in your hands. Having to explain everything that happened moments ago would have been more painful had it not been for your members attention on you as you all sat on the sofas in the lounge. The very same ones you had been joyfully skipping around earlier on that day.

"These things... they can be unpredictable sometimes, Y/Nnie," Seungmin squeezed you tighter towards him, leant forward with you.

"That's what I hate... they said it had been four years that they had been thinking about it, four years since they knew," you closed your eyes tightly, anything to imagine yourself not in this situation.

"Y/N, you couldn't have known," Jeongin tried to offer some comfort.

"They said they stayed together, for me. I was the reason that they didn't tell me after all this time," you gritted your teeth in frustration.

"No, no, don't do that, love, you weren't to know," Chan firmly said, the last thing he wanted was for you to feel guilt.

"It's not your responsibility to carry that weight," Minho sternly added, in the same mindset as Chan, hating that you were upset. Sure, he teased you for your hyperactive mood earlier but he much preferred that then seeing the storm cloud hovering above you.

"It is though. They faked their love just for me. How do I know they even love me?" you crumbled once more, tears rushing down your face as Hyunjin immediately crouched down in front of you with a tissue at hand.

"They could never stop loving you. It's hard, but just because they fell out of love with each other, doesn't mean they'd do the same with you," he grabbed your hands in his, before pressing the tissue into your hand for you to use.

It was almost funny. Your mother had dried your tears for you earlier and now you were doing it for yourself, feeling that childlike innocence being ripped away from you as you were forced to feel adult emotions.

"Please don't think that way, no one could ever not love you," Jisung insisted.

"I just... I don't even know anymore," you took in some deep breaths again, looking around you at your brothers who held so much love and compassion in their eyes for you. You could see it in how they sat, turned towards you with their undivided attention.

"You don't have to know, Y/N. You're not going to know how to feel straight away," Changbin validated your emotions that you couldn't sort out on your own. But that was why you were glad they were there, to heal you, to offer you that safety net of their permanence in your life.

"You're not alone, okay?" Minho's soft spoken voice was filled with love, smooth like honey.

You needed some space from your thoughts, some reprieve from the situation you had faced, but, even in your fragility, you could see, no, you knew the boys would forever be there to keep you together. And so what if the cracks showed? You had 8 members more than willing to not force you to be fixed, but to live with those cracks and learn to understand them.

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @backintomykpopphaseagain @sakufilms @hanjiquokkaaa @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky

#skz #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids #skz fluff #skz angst #straykids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #skz fic #skz ninth imagines #skz ninth #skz ninth member imagines #skz ninth member #stray kids ninth #stray kids ninth member #skz 9th member reader #skz 9th member #stray kids 9th member #stray kids angst

[fandoms--fluff]

Hi I was wondering if you could do a Damon x teenage reader but the reader sees Damon as a sorta father figure

Enough

Female teen Gilbert reader x Damon Salvatore

Warnings: bullying, ed, cutting, I think that's all

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You're sat on his bathroom floor, thinking. Just two weeks ago you got back from Denver. Being compelled to move there because of your big sister, Elena, is one of the worst things that's ever happened to you. You were miserable there. The empty feeling after being forced to leave Mystic Falls never went away for those long months your and Jeremy were there for.

Your anxiety went through the roof, not being familiar with the place. And having to make new friends and meet new people.

But the worst was the bullying.

The kids at the high school there were cruel. They took one look at you on your first day and by lunch there were horrible rumors about you going around. Which you obviously hadn't told Jeremy about, not wanting him to worry about you or bother him with something as stupid as that.

The boys would come up to you, pretending to be interested, but then burst out laughing with their friends who were behind them when you looked even mildly interested in them.

The girls were the worst yet. Especially the one friend group of nine. They would come up to you in the hallway, during classes, during lunch, and even after school. They'd harass you, talk about your dead parents that has somehow gotten out, pretend to feel pity towards you, basically anything to make you rethink your existence.

They even made fun of your weight for a straight week, and the body you once loved, became something you hate. You hadn't consumed anything but water and maybe an apple here and there, just so no one would question anything. It wasn't until Jeremy brought up how pale you looked and started watching you more carefully at meal times did you start to eat more consistently.

But only a bit. Not enough a fifteen year old girl should eat per day.

Damon had fed you some of his blood yesterday. You had gotten hurt from one of the last remaining hybrids. The hybrid tried to suck you dry, but Damon had showed up in time to get you out of there and healed the bite mark and bruises on you.

You looked down at your wrists where there were cuts just a second ago before they healed, a razor laying on the ground in front of you. The blade littered with your blood and a couple drops on the floor underneath. 

The blood must've been still on your system.

Again you picked the razor up and slid it across your wrist and fore arm causing a deep scratch releasing some blood. You kept on repeating this action before switching to the other wrist. 

You had started cutting your wrists when you had gotten back, not knowing what to feel, and what to think is true or not. Always gave those girls and kids voices in your head. And not knowing how to act around Damon since you've learned he was the one to compel you. Someone who you trusted countless times before. You just don't know what to say or how to act around him. You've just done your best to avoid him.

Which had gotten kind of hard, considering you lived with him and his brother. Safer there than at your actual home. At least at the boarding house you didn't have the lingering memory of your parents.

Everyone thinks you're fine, you responded exactly how you knew they would want you to when they asked if you were okay. No one suspecting a thing. Except for Damon, yes he hasn't been the best person in the world, though he does care for you a lot, he can't tell exactly why, but he does. That's why it was so hard for Famon to compel not just Jeremy, but you as well to leave Mystic Falls to go to Colorado.

You had grown close to Damon after he came to town. You met him when Elena and Stefan brought you over to the boarding house to keep you safe for a couple of days while Jeremy was staying with Alaric. He immediately took a liking to you. You would just sit in the library reading one of the many old books for hours and when you weren't doing that you would be hanging out with him. You and gotten close fast.

Stefan and Elena didn't like it at much in the beginning, but came fonder of you guys having a friendship as the weeks went on. Damon had sort of mellowed out because of you. Not a lot, but some.

Damon can tell when there’s something going on with you and all he has to do is figure out why. Surely it can’t be about the trip. You'd say something to someone, or come to him or at least to talk to him about it a little right? 

Damon is sitting on one of the couches in the main room with a glass of bourbon in his hand and the tv on playing re-runs of old sitcoms from the 70′s. He was carefully thinking of a way that he could get you to open up, in the end he came up with nothing before going into a daze.

It was getting later and you finally stopped cutting yourself feeling somewhat a little better. There are some littered left over cuts that hadn’t healed but you paid no attention to them. You took deep breathes before falling asleep, hoping to not have any nightmares tonight cause you don't think you can hold in the screams so Damon can’t hear you anymore like you had been holding them the past weeks. Before that you grasped one of his pillows bringing it towards your chest, hugging it tightly.

You've been having horrible nightmares about the school and the bullying and the others finding everything out and callig you a bay for how you reacted to the kids there. The nightmares have been taunting you and they won't go away, they've gotten worse every night.

Damon quickly jolted awake hearing screams coming from inside the house. At first he looks at his surroundings, the living room...he must of fallen asleep here. Then he listened and soon realized that those screams were coming from you.

Stefan isn't here tonight, and he hadn't told you at least where he was going to be.

Worried, Damon vamp sped upstairs to your room, surprised that your door is unlocked. He got closer to your screaming and squirming form, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"Y/n....come on wake up. It's just a dream.......Y/n?" Damon slightly shook you.

That only caused you to swing around to face him, still asleep but now hyperventilating. Damon started to shake you more cautiously now, who knew how hard it would be to wake you up from a nightmare. He'd never witnessed you having one before.

“Y/n/n Wake up!” After more shaking and talking to you, you finally sprung up, awake.

While you're trying to calm your breathing down, Damon twisted to his side and turned on the lap that’s placed on the nightstand. 

“Damon? W-what are you doing in here?” you asked the vampire, confused as to why he was in his room. 

“I heard you screaming because of a nightmare and I needed to know you were alright” Damon said softly and gently pushed you back down so you were lying down again. 

“No, no y-you don’t care I-if I’m alright or not” you said looking away from him. Not having anyone beside Jeremy and maybe a few times Elena comfort you after a nightmare. And this was the worst possible one for Damon to be there for.

Damon had a hurt look on his face, but hid it before reaching his hand out and placing it on your shoulder. The action making you face him with dried tear streaks down your cheeks. 

“Baby, of course I care about you. Yes, I may not have said it, but I do” Damon said gently and wiped the tear residue off your face.

“You do?” you mumbled with a tiny pout on your face from your dream and everything going on around you right now. 

Damon nodded and pulled you into his arms, you immediately climbed into his lap and started to sob into his chest.

Damon ran his fingers up and down your back soothingly. He was surprised how fast you broke and hugged you closer to his chest, wanting you to feel safe.

After some time, you pulled back to look at him with teary eyes and your hands shaking. Damon gently grasped your hands to stop the shaking and looked down to see an angry red patch on your wrist. Bringing your wrists up closer to see, he rolled up the sleeves of your hoodie to show all of the unhealed scratches on you wrists and forearms. 

“Y/n? Why would you?” Damon was at a loss of words.

You looked at him in the eyes, mouth parting, wanting to explain but just can't and not knowing how to.

"Y/n/n, you need to tell me what made you do this. Is it from Denver?" Damon asked more gently this time.

You nodded slowly with tears running down his cheeks.

"It w-was bad. K-kids made f-fun of me. St-starved myself. C-cutting myself helps t-take pain away fr-from me" you explained, whispering.

He quickly wrapped his arms around you again. You relaxed a little into the vampire, nuzzling your head into his chest before you started talking.

"Why don't you think I'm pathetic? You can be honest, we both know the answer is yes" You mumbled.

"Y/n, you are not pathetic, don't ever call yourself that again. You're enough, you're an amazing person, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. If anyone ever calls you pathetic again, you tell me and I'll make sure to raise hell on them." Damon explained and placed a kiss on top of your head which he's never done before.

That brought a small smile to your face and you mumbled out an 'okay'.

Damon is about to get up but you quickly wrapped his arms and legs around him tighter making sure he won't leave you alone.

"Don't worry baby, I wasn't going to leave I was just going to get into the bed so we can get a bit more comfortable than on the chair" Damon reassured you. You nodded, understanding and got off Damon, climbing into the bed. You moved over a bit so he could also get in. When Damon laid down, right away you cuddled into him, using a strong grip.

"Baby, promise me you won't ever cut yourself again and if you do have those thoughts just come to me and we can talk about it" Damon kissed the top of your head.

You looked up at him and nodded, "I promise" you mumbled and Damon smiled hearing your small words while you started to doze off on his chest.

"I love you Dee" You said right before falling into a deep sleep.

"I love you too, Baby" Damon responded, knowing full well that you couldn't hear him.

#damon salvatore #jeremy gilbert #elena gilbert #damon salvatore x reader #protective damon salvatore #damon salvatore x teen reader #damon salvatore x gilbert reader #gilbert reader #teen gilbert reader #father figure damon #soft damon salvatore #bullying #jeremy gilbert x sister reader #eating disorder #cutting #angst #cute #fluff #imagines #thevampirediaries #writing #fanfic #theoriginals #legacies #comfort

[lisbeth-kk]

May Prompts (29) Hero

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 29)

Summary: Rosie lets us get one more glimpse of the wedding, before the tale of new beginnings for all of them are revealed.

Twenty-Nine Years Old

Papa had of course composed a waltz for our wedding, and after I’d danced with my husband, still strange to call him that, it was Dad’s turn. Papa still played but had switched to the waltz from Dad’s and his wedding now, and the waltz I’d danced to with Dad all those years ago. It was such a precious moment, and when it was played again, by the string quartet this time, I found myself in Papa’s arms.

“Thank you for making us a new waltz,” I said and looked up at him.

“You’re welcome, Bee. It was my pleasure.”

His smile was the one I called “the Bee and Dad smile”. It was warm, genuine and radiated love and affection. 

***

Timothy had been the first speaker and had used most of it to praise The Fab Four for raising me in the most unusual fashion. He avoided any “government secrets”, which I deduced was due to uncle Myc’s meddling. 

“He’s a fucking hero, your Timothy,” uncle Greg told me later that evening, not entirely sober. 

“Language, Gregory,” uncle Myc scolded him, which earned him a swat on his…yeah, well, I guess you can deduce the rest.

Dad’s speech was as incoherent and rambling as expected, bringing back anecdotes of Ted the bear’s last real meal, my theatrical announcement regarding Dad and Papa’s love for each other in the train carriage, how proud he was of me, and in the same sentence also thanking uncle Myc for being the best uncle.

“Sorry, Greg. That was before you and…” Dad said with an embarrassed grimace.

The uncle in question just waved it off, while looking adoringly at uncle Myc.

And of course there was praising of Papa for being the best thing that had ever happened to either of us. By the time he finished, there were tissues, sniffles and stifled sobs all around.

***

I had looked forward to Papa’s speech, having heard his encomium of Dad at their wedding, but it became instantly clear that his speech to me would surpass my wildest expectations. He started it with addressing me with words no one but me and Dad had ever heard, and I sought out Timothy’s hand and held on for dear life, lest I’d be transformed into a puddle of tears.

“My precious girl, my heart. I couldn’t believe my luck the day John brought you home to Baker Street. To be given the privilege of raising you, is the greatest honour I could ever receive. From that very first day you trusted me to take care of you as well as your father did. You gave your love freely, without any hesitation, and even if I wasn’t your legal parent from the beginning, it didn’t matter to you. But it mattered to me. The first time you called me Papa…”

He closed his eyes for a moment to gather himself, clearly overwhelmed by the memories. Dad took his hand and squeezed it soothingly. Before he continued the speech, he looked down at Dad and a silent conversation took place. Releasing his hand from Dad’s, Papa straightened and started to speak once more.

The anecdotes Papa told, differed from Dad’s. My first trip, to Barts of all places, were described in detail. How Molly had scolded him for bringing a seven-month-old toddler to the morgue, his pride when he witnessed my first graduation in the dojo, getting my yellow belt, how stunned he was that I got along so well with his brother, (I still can’t believe he mentioned him), and his certainty that Timothy was my soul mate just like Dad was his.

All this sentiment elicited another round of sniffles, which a decade ago, would’ve made my Papa roll his eyes, but he’d softened over the years, I realised. Not that he would ever admit to it, mind you.

***

One year later, things had changed considerably. Dad and Papa had retired and moved to Sussex, and Timothy and I got the best Christmas present, the deed to 221 Baker Street with the clause that Dee could inhabit 221A for as long as she liked.

I’d missed my childhood home and I never thrived in that other part of the city. Timothy couldn’t believe our luck and made plans for creating his own writing den in 221C. Papa’s lab had been stripped bare, so it really was a blank canvas to do with as we pleased.

And then it was the biggest thing of all. A new life was growing inside me. The ultrasound showed a healthy foetus, but the sex was impossible to discern because of the position. We didn’t want to know anyway. The important thing was that everything was alright. Being a doctor’s daughter, I knew quite a lot about how bad things could get.

When we got home, after I’d texted my parents that everything was going well inside my womb, I rummaged around for my mother’s book with all the children’s names in it. She had made no notes in it, neither had Papa in his quest for alternative names for uncle Greg. I wouldn’t have minded seeing his scribbles, but now that I was going to be a mother myself, I felt conflicted thinking about the mother I never knew. Come to think of it, I’d never even seen her handwriting.

***

Timothy had asked me about my childhood a few days after I discovered that I was pregnant.

“If you can sum it up in one word, image, or a sentence, what will it be?”

I didn’t have to think twice before answering.

“My parents and their love for me and for each other.”

Timothy just nodded, not the least bit surprised by this.

“I would like to name the baby after them,” I said, which Timothy fully agreed to.

His sister had named two of her four children after their parents, and Timothy was rather fond of my family, despite his bickering with them.

“I consider it a love language,” he told me.

“Don’t you dare tell them! The consequences might be…something sinister,” I said.

Also available on AO3

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @helloliriels @raina-at

More tags in the replies

#may prompts 2024 #may 29: hero #sherlock fandom #rosie watson #sherlock #john watson #mycroft holmes #greg lestrade #johnlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock fanfic #ao3 fanfic

[oceanpulls]

Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross have a plan to soundtrack everything

Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross – best friends and Nine Inch Nails bandmates – found unlikely creative fulfilment (and a couple of Oscars) by reassessing what they had to offer as musicians. Now they’re thinking even bigger, and imagining an artistic empire of their own making

By Zach Baron

Photography by Danielle Levitt

Every weekday, Trent Reznor makes his way from his house, a cottagey sprawl behind a white wall in a canyon on Los Angeles’s Westside, to a studio he’s built in his backyard. There he meets his best friend, bandmate, and business partner, Atticus Ross, and they get to work. Reznor and Ross observe the same hours, Monday to Friday, 11am to 7pm. “We show up,” Reznor told me. “We’re not late. We’re not coming in to start to fuck around.” It’s a methodical, orderly existence that Reznor could not have foreseen in the ’90s, when he was fronting Nine Inch Nails and struggling with a drug-and-alcohol problem that was his answer to success. “I would do anything to avoid writing a song,” Reznor said. “I’d rewire the studio 50 times.”

Now Reznor has a wife, Mariqueen Maandig, five children, and multiple jobs. He is sober. Since 2010, when the director David Fincher asked Reznor and Ross to score The Social Network, for which Reznor and Ross won an Oscar, the two men have had steady employment composing for film. This year, Reznor and Ross are also starting a yet-to-be-named company, built around storytelling in multiple disciplines: film production, fashion, a music festival, and a venture with Epic Games.

And then, of course, there is the oldest and perhaps still the most complicated of Reznor’s jobs: being the frontman of Nine Inch Nails. In 1988 Reznor formed what was then a one-man band; the first two full-length records Nine Inch Nails released, Pretty Hate Machine(1989) and The Downward Spiral (1994), have sold more than eight million copies. (Over subsequent years and subsequent albums, the band has since crossed the 20 million mark in sales.) In the ’90s, for a time, Nine Inch Nails were ubiquitous: a phenomenon on the level of Nirvana or Dr Dre. During that decade, the success of the band nearly killed Reznor. “I didn’t feel prepared to process how disorientating that was,” he said. “How much it can distort your personality.”

These days, Nine Inch Nails, which Ross joined as a full-time member in 2016, present a different problem – how do you make something old, something so already well-defined, new again? There are years when Reznor feels like he has the answers and years when he’s less certain. He has put the band on hiatus more than once; after the last Nine Inch Nails tour, in 2022, Reznor deliberately took a break from playing shows as well. “For the first time in a long time I wasn’t sure: what’s the tour going to say?” Reznor told me. “What do I have to say right now? We can still play those songs real good. Maybe we can come up with a new production. But it wasn’t screaming at me: this is what to do right now.”

But he and Ross still come to work, daily, in search of transcendence. “We sit in here every day,” Reznor said. “And a portion of the time organically becomes us just figuring out who we are as people and processing life and a kind of therapy session. And in those endless hours it’s come up: why do we want to do this? And the reason is because we both feel the most in touch with God and fulfilled.”

It is easy to make things when you are a teenager growing up in rural Pennsylvania, near the Ohio border, as Reznor was, and you have nothing to lose and everything to gain; it is considerably harder, once you’ve got older, and found a way to make things that people like, to keep going. It’s an old story: the act of creation can lift you up, but those sharp gifts can also destroy you, and if you make it past that, the sheer blissful regularity of life with money and a family can even you out so thoroughly that there is no friction left to work with. You look inside the cupboard and the cupboard is bare, or it’s a mansion and living inside of it is a person you’re bored of, and so you stop looking. But Reznor and Ross have never stopped looking, and the search for that magical feeling of finding something – that feeling of, in Reznor’s words, “I don’t know where it came from. I don’t know how I just did what I did, but I’ve channelled it into something that worked” – is still the thing that organises their days and their moods.

We were talking in their studio, which was low-lit and cold and full of synthesizers’ blinking lights. Reznor was on a sofa and Ross sat in a chair nearby. The two men first met in the ’90s, when Reznor signed Ross’s band, 12 Rounds, to Reznor’s Nothing Records. Soon after, they became friends, and then musical collaborators. “I was just getting sober,” Reznor said, “and I was in a pretty fragile transitional phase. And I just hit it off with Atticus right off the bat. And part of it was, he was someone who was on much firmer ground, in a mentor-y kind of way, than I was.”

Ross is two years younger than Reznor, but when they met, he’d already been through certain things Reznor was just getting around to. “I got clean when I was very young,” Ross told me. “So I had a bit more experience than him. Put it like this: I knew you could have fun without being high.”

Their friendship has been a constant in both their lives since. “I don’t know if parts of us are broken and we don’t feel good enough,” Reznor said, staring at the ceiling of the studio, “but we know if we work as hard as we can and do the best work we can, it fixes something. At the core of it, that’s what unites us creatively. On top of that, I think his take on the world and role in life helps me understand my place and not feel as detached in some ways.”

Reznor often jokes, or simply explains, that he is a “quart low” on whatever it is that makes people happy. “I think we can both, on our own devices, run below zero as a baseline,” Reznor said. “I don’t mean manic depression, I just mean we don’t take compliments well. It’s like when we won the Oscar, it was the day after: ‘Let’s take today guilt-free, kind of say fuck yeah.’ And tomorrow we’ll have settled back down to a few feet below sea level.”

In their years of collaborating with each other, both men have found some mutual reassurance – a little lift. Reznor gestured at Ross.

“I remember something he said to me – I don’t know if you want me to say this or not – in one of our talks years ago: ‘Here’s what I want today.’”

“I see what’s coming,” Ross said, nervously.

“I just want to feel OK,” Reznor said, quoting his friend. “I want to feel like I’m OK.”

One day this winter, Reznor greeted me at the door of their studio – in the course of reporting this story, I never saw him anywhere else – wearing a black hoodie made by the synthesizer company Moog, black jeans, and black running shoes. At 58, Reznor still retains the angular intensity and jet-black hair of his youth, but time and fatherhood seem to have made him quicker to smile. He looks a little like a college professor now, or an unusually-well-cared-for software engineer. He led me back, past walls of unused gear and several black-clad mannequins, all of which startled me, to their primary workspace, where Ross – a tall west Londoner (he grew up in Ladbroke Grove) with a stern face and a pleasantly reedy voice – sat at a computer, also all in black. (Once, I asked the two men whether their upcoming clothing line would feature any colour. “No,” Reznor said, incredulously. “Of course not.”)

They were on deadline for two films at the moment, including Luca Guadagnino’s forthcoming Queer. “But we’re trying not to work,” Reznor said, drily. Leaned up against one wall was a photo of the two in tuxedos, accepting the Academy Award for best original score for their work on The Social Network. Reznor had contributed to soundtracks before, in the ’90s, but he’d never formally scored a film until The Social Network.

But Reznor and Ross quickly realised that the work, in some ways, wasn’t so different from songwriting. “What do we do when we write a song?” Reznor asked. “We’re trying to emotionally connect with somebody.” Take the Mark Zuckerberg character in The Social Network:“Here’s somebody who thinks this idea is so important that it’s worth kind of fucking your friends over for it. And then realising maybe it wasn’t worth it, or I didn’t realise how I’d feel if I got what I wanted at the price of this. I can relate to that in my own language. Suddenly there’s music.”

“I’m grateful not to be as angry and frustrated and desperate as I have felt in the past,” Reznor said. “I couldn’t have predicted that I would feel this level of fulfilment.”

And Reznor found that he enjoyed the exercise of solving someone else’s problems instead of his own. “There’s something about not being the boss and working again in service to something that I initially felt guilty for feeling kind of fulfilled by in a weird way.”

Reznor said that on another Fincher film, Mank, the director suggested: “What if it sounded like maybe inspired by Bernard Herrmann and as if it were recorded in 1935 and this film canister sat on the shelf for 60 years?” OK, interesting. (Ross and Reznor were nominated for that one too.)

On the first film the two men scored for Guadagnino, Bones and All, “we got a cut of that that was nearly four hours long with no music and we kind of thought, Oh, fuck,” Reznor said. “Four hours we sat without a pee break, transfixed. It didn’t need music. And when you watch that you approach it differently.” Then Guadagnino brought them Challengers, due for worldwide release in April. Reznor said, “He started us down a path, saying, ‘What if it was very loud techno music through the whole film?’” (This is exactly what it turned out to be.)

“I wish I had his notes,” Ross said of Guadagnino. “His notes were so fucking funny on what each piece was meant to do.”

“Oh, yeah,” Reznor said. “‘Unending homoerotic desire.’ It was all a variation on those three words.”

They liked the challenge of scoring, they found, and that feeling of not being in control. They also liked the way it made them crave being in control again: “It makes you more inspired to work on other stuff when we’re finished,” Reznor said. “Even if it’s just, Thank God it’s done now and we can appreciate the freedom we had before we gave it up.”

These days, Reznor and Ross also like having jobs that let them be at home, around their families. Both men had tumultuous or lonely lives when they were younger; both men have found that fatherhood soothes certain unresolved aspects of their pasts. Ross has three kids, and “probably the greatest reward is how balanced and happy they all are compared to – certainly my growing up was an unusual sort of scenario. It was a fairly chaotic youth.” Ross comes from a notable English family, but his immediate lineage was more unstable. “My dad had a club called Flipper’s Roller Boogie Palace in LA in the ’70s,” Ross told me. “He went bankrupt in England and had a judgment passed against him where he couldn’t talk to a bank manager for 15 years. So he moved here and opened this sort of Studio 54 on roller skates on La Cienega and Santa Monica.” Ross held up a coffee-table book full of photos of the club. “You don’t need to look at it, but it was just a mad life. So I grew up in some madness.”

It is particularly endearing to see Reznor, who at a distance was a fierce and terrifying figure in his 20s and 30s, find domestic bliss. I am old enough that my adolescence coincided neatly with the S&M-flavoured, I wanna fuck you like an animal era of Nine Inch Nails; when I was leaving Reznor’s house one day, I noted with some amusement the cheerful mundanity of a basketball hoop in the backyard. “I’m grateful not to be as angry and frustrated and desperate as I have felt in the past,” Reznor told me. “I couldn’t have predicted that there was a world where I would have a sizeable family with kids and feel the level of fulfilment and comfort and be able to live in that.”

Was that something you were consciously seeking before you found it?

“I think I had some abandonment issues from my parents splitting up, or feeling I never fit in, and I’d gotten accustomed to being on my own. And largely due to my own, I think, inability to really be intimate with people, or share or be open or know how to be a friend or a partner to somebody… Trying that out and doing it with pure and full immersion has led to an unexpectedly great outcome.”

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The other film project Reznor and Ross were on deadline for was Scott Derrickson’s The Gorge, a science-fiction thriller starring Miles Teller and Anya Taylor-Joy. They were working on a lengthy, music-dependent scene that they’d already mostly scored. But, Ross said, “the director wants it to be a bit more, I can’t think of a better word than just a bit more scary and intense.” They weren’t sure what that directive meant, exactly, but they were content – they were happy – to try to figure it out: to enter the room once again, carrying nothing, and to try to leave it with something that didn’t exist before.

Ross called up the scene on a monitor at the centre of a long mixing board: Teller and Taylor-Joy in an evil-looking spiky forest. Reznor and Ross have somewhat fluid roles in their collaboration, but today the plan was for Reznor to improvise some music while Ross edited and manipulated it in real time. “Atticus’ superpower,” Reznor said, “is that I can come up with a melody and a chord change, and he can make that sit on the scene in a way that is meticulous, and mind-numbingly boring to watch him do.”

A studio assistant, also in all black, presented himself to help Reznor set up a microphone and a cello next to a keyboard that sat underneath another computer monitor. Ross hit play on the footage and what they’d already completed of the score, a kind of haunted, chanting murmur. “It’s basically atmosphere at the moment,” Ross said. Next to him was a synthesizer whose make and model he asked me not to print and which the two men use as a kind of sound ecosystem to feed stuff into.

Reznor began by pushing down on the piano’s keyboard, while with his other hand he manipulated the sound with a flat synthesizer on the desk in front of him. It began as a kind of mellow pan flute thing, and then, with a push of a few buttons, became more of a sad, Social Network-ish plonk. Ross stood up and started tapping the synthesizer to his left, and the sounds Reznor made began to loop and accumulate – little melodic figures that plunged in and out of feedback. Reznor moved from the piano to the microphone, where he sang a few soft passages in a baritone falsetto, more sad than spooky, and then to the cello, which he played slowly and choppily. Ross moved between the computer and the synthesizer, trying to harness it all as it built to a loud, echoing crescendo.

After about 20 minutes, Reznor sat back in his chair, and Ross soon followed suit. Everything got quiet again. “It’s going fishing,” Reznor said to me, shrugging. “Sometimes something happens.”

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Or, sometimes, everything happens. One of the first things you see when you arrive at Reznor’s home studio are two original paintings by the Yorkshire artist Russell Mills – on the left, a razor against a rusty red background; on the right, a decaying yellow-and-black collage – that ultimately became the insert and the cover art for Nine Inch Nails’ The Downward Spiral. This is the record with “Hurt” and “Closer” on it. It’s an album Reznor nearly didn’t survive.

Why do I bring this up? Well. If I may, for a moment, sound like the ageing dude in a black T-shirt leaning against the back wall of a bar where you’re just trying to be young and free of recitations of what the year 1994 felt like, there was a different quality to the way things would happen in music. Bands would labour for years, unknown, and then just get struck by lightning, is the best way I can put it: one day, you’re just a guy, and then one radio station plays your song, and then every radio station plays your song, and everyone is listening to those radio stations, because there is nothing else to do, and then MTV loops your video, and everyone watches it because, again, there is nothing else to do, and all of a sudden you are known by millions of bored people in a way that doesn’t quite happen now. This is a gross oversimplification, of course, but here Reznor is, one of the very few people who have experienced the thing I’m describing. I thought: let’s just ask him what that was like.

Reznor said, OK, he could tell me exactly what it felt like. He gave me a single moment: Woodstock ’94, which Nine Inch Nails almost didn’t play – “it seemed like it was going to be gross, to be honest with you” – but ultimately did. “And when we got there, it was terrifying,” Reznor said. “It was way bigger than I pictured in my head and walking on stage. But this is the point of the story: I knew. You could feel like you were in the right place at the right time.”

In retrospect, how did you handle success?

“Had a drink. That’s what sent me down the path. I wasn’t the guy that, you know, at 12 years old cracked a beer. That wasn’t it at all. Just, I feel anxious around people. I’m not sure how to act, especially now that you’re someone that’s supposed to act a certain way. There’s a projection. It feels uncomfortable to walk down the street and people are looking at you because they recognise you. That’s weird. Suddenly everybody wants to be your friend and you’re the coolest. Everyone wants to date you and shit like that.” Reznor said he found it was “easier to have a beer before I go in that room, and then a couple of beers before I go in that room. And pretty soon over a period of time, wait a minute, things start to get out of control. And you know how the story goes.”

Here’s how the story went: Reznor began to wonder if Trent Reznor could ever live up to the Nine Inch Nails guy that people had in their heads. “The reason I was having to drink was to fix that problem, my own insecurity. But the net result is: I’m not really who I am because now I’ve got drugs or alcohol in my system and I’m not thinking as who I really am. And that comes into focus once one gets sober and has time to reflect and kind of think about what got you there and shit you did.”

Eventually, Reznor got sober, and built himself back up. Today he’s happy to talk about all of it, obviously, but he and Ross have done a lot together since – 10 albums’ worth of Nine Inch Nails (Ross was an official member of the band for five of them), among other things – and Reznor is, by nature, not one to dwell too much on the past of a band that he’s still very much trying to figure out. “We’re not fans of resting on our laurels. We’ve been afraid of thinking about nostalgia. That’s a whole other conversation, but the reality is we’re getting older and our fans are getting older and that’s a fact. And I think, say, during the pandemic, not that you asked this question, but as I’m sure everybody was, I was pretty genuinely freaked out and very clearly came into focus: I’ve got to protect my family.”

He was consumed by fear, by terror of what might happen, of what he might do about it. “I can’t even fit all my kids in a car,” Reznor said. “But in the midst of that anxiety, sitting alone in here, I found comfort in nostalgia. I found comfort looking back at things from my youth that I’ve been afraid to even allow myself to glimpse at because it meant artistic death. Because one has to look forward. One can’t be self-referential. I was so afraid growing up in a little shitty town. I could see people that thought the highlight of their life is junior in high school catching the football. You know what I mean? That’s it. That was the peak. I don’t want to fucking be that person. I could see my fate if I stayed in that town.”

In those moments sitting by yourself, what were you getting nostalgic for?

“I miss parts of living in Pennsylvania. I miss a simpler life that I grew up with. I really loved the first INXS album in 1983. I was a senior in high school, and when I listen to it now I could almost start crying because it fucking reminds me of driving in a shitty fucking car in the summer in Pennsylvania. You know what I mean? Man. I allowed myself to kind of immerse myself in who I was at that time, and what it felt like.”

Reznor had been trying to remake himself ever since he left where he grew up, and now here he is in Los Angeles, over 40 years later. “And I kind of went on a deep dive for a while and allowed myself to realise: I am who I am. And the things that made me weren’t the cool things. I’d always been ashamed of: I came from a shitty town; I didn’t have an exotic upbringing; shitty education, you know what I mean? That’s who I am. I’m not sure what the point of all that confession was.”

Well, except: “It plays into where I’m at now.”

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The last time I saw Reznor and Ross, it was once again in their studio. They were sitting very still. Had they been working before I got there?

“We were for a little bit,” Ross said. “And then nervously thinking about you arriving.”

Really? It’s OK if that’s the truth.

“That’s the truth,” Reznor said. They’d just been in this room for the past weeks, months – years, really, he said. Head down. Working. He gestured at me. “It’s a different mindset.”

And “I was thinking about something you said the other day,” Reznor said. That was on a Friday. I’d asked a somewhat rude question about their soundtrack work, which was: why would Reznor or Ross work for anyone else when they didn’t have to?

Now it was Monday. “I thought about that over the weekend,” Reznor said. “It’s like, Why are we doing this? The idea comes from what we think is a good place of ‘Let’s break it up. Let’s get sent down the rabbit hole on certain things and feel like we’ve got tasks being assigned to us rather than us just blindly seeing what happens creatively.’ ”

But, he said, “I think coming out of a stretch of a number of films in a row, I want some time of seeing where the wind blows versus: there’s a looming date on a calendar coming up and we’d better get our shit together. And certainly in the last few weeks I’ve been itching to do what we often do, which is just come in and let’s start something that we’re not even sure what it’s for.”

Some of that energy, he and Ross said, would probably become the next Nine Inch Nails album. Doing soundtrack work, Reznor said, had “managed to make Nine Inch Nails feel way more exciting than it had been in the past few years. I’d kind of let it atrophy a bit in my mind for a variety of reasons.”

But now, “I do feel excited about starting on the next record,” Ross said. “I think we’re in a place now where we kind of have an idea.”

And then there was the company, which Reznor and Ross spent the last two years putting together, piece by piece, with the help of John Crawford, their longtime art director, and the producer Jonathan Pavesi. The idea was, what could they do that they hadn’t already done around storytelling? Some of that might take the form of examining Nine Inch Nails from yet another angle – “we’ve been working on homegrown IP around Nine Inch Nails, stories we could tell, and we’re working on developing those in a way that are not what you think they’d be.” (As in: not a biopic.) They also have a show in development with Christopher Storer, the creator of The Bear, they said, and a film with the veteran horror director Mike Flanagan.

Reznor put on a pair of black-rimmed glasses so that he could examine a piece of paper next to him. “We just wrote some notes because I knew I’d forget what the fuck I’m about to say.” There was a short film coming with the artist Susanne Deeken. There was a clothing venture, a T-shirt line made in collaboration with a notable designer whose name they’d like to keep secret for now, which will arrive this summer. There was a music festival that they were currently planning, “where we’re going to debut as performing as composers along with a roster of other interesting people,” and a record label, both scheduled to launch around the same time.

And for two years they’ve been working with Epic Games on something that is not exactly a video game, in the UEFN ecosystem Epic has built around Fortnite – “It’s what Zuckerberg was trying to bullshit us into calling the metaverse,” Reznor said. “You can’t say that word any more, but in terms of the tool kit, thinking about it through the lens of what could be possible for artists and experiences, we thought that would be an interesting way to tell a story through that.”

They were nervously contemplating the prospect of having day jobs again, of being responsible for more than just themselves. Early on, as they contemplated launching the company, they’d sat down with David Fincher to ask him about movie production: how does it work? “And he’s like, oh, you’re fucked,” Reznor said. “I can distil a two-hour conversation into that. Because, he said, ‘I know you guys, and no one’s going to care more than you do, and you will not be able to let it go.’”

Reznor has actually had this experience before, of being sucked into a project bigger than Nine Inch Nails and having it take over his entire life. Years ago he worked as an executive, first for Beats and then for Apple, building a streaming-music service.

“Trent was very clear when we started,” Ross said. “We cannot let this get into Apple terrain.”

Reznor laughed. “What I mean by that is – I will make this brief; I’m trying to think through what I’m about to talk shit on. Just to self-censor for a second.”

Reznor paused for a moment and then explained. For years, he said, he’d wondered: what would make a good streaming service? This was before the advent of Spotify in the US or Apple Music. Jimmy Iovine, Reznor’s old label boss – later, Iovine would also become Ross’s brother-in-law, after he married Ross’s sister, Liberty, in 2016 – was launching a music service at Beats, which was then acquired by Apple, and Iovine said to Reznor: come try to make this thing a reality. And Reznor surprised himself by saying yes.

“It was a unique opportunity to work at the biggest company in the world at a high level,” Reznor said. “And it was interesting, the scale of the people that you reach through those platforms, just the global amount of influence those platforms can have was exciting. The political situation I was dropped into was not as exciting.”

Reznor enjoyed working with Apple’s design team and its engineering team. “But it made me realise how much I want to be an artist first and foremost.” Reznor also became discouraged with the possibility of fixing the problem that he was trying to solve. “I think the terrible payout of streaming services has mortally wounded a whole tier of artists that make being an artist unsustainable. And it’s great if you’re Drake, and it’s not great if you’re Grizzly Bear. And the reality is: take a look around. We’ve had enough time for the whole ‘All the boats rise’ argument to see they don’t all rise. Those boats rise. These boats don’t. They can’t make money in any means. And I think that’s bad for art. And I thought maybe at Apple there could be influence to pay in a more fair or significant way, because a lot of these services are just a rounding error compared to what comes in elsewhere, unlike Spotify where their whole business is that. But that’s tied to a lot of other political things and label issues, and everyone’s trying to hold onto their little piece of the pie and it is what it is. I also realise, I think that people just want to turn the faucet on and have music come in. They’re not really concerned about all the romantic shit I thought mattered.”

Anyway, Reznor said, turning to Ross, “That was a long-winded way of saying, when we talked about this company, I just said, ‘Be aware of what success might look like because it will turn into something that eats up lots of cycles and time and attention and energy.’ ”

But, Ross said, taking on new responsibilities was, paradoxically, also a way to stay a little younger. “I know we’ve all been talking about being dads and being adults and all that,” Ross said, “and there is a part of me that thinks: it’s important to keep the kid alive.” Meaning the child inside yourself, rather than the one you’re responsible for.

He told a story about him and Reznor visiting the director David Lynch at his house to work with him on the 2017 revival of Twin Peaks. “And I don’t know how old he was at the time,” Ross said, “but he was older. But just walking in there, and he had the room set up and there’s a screen there, there’s some chairs here and there’s some musical instruments there and he’s smoking a cigarette. There’s nothing old about that dude. You know what I mean?”

Lynch showed them some Lynchian footage. It was incredible, even if they didn’t quite know what they were looking at. Lynch was probably 70 or 71 at the time. “But it’s that thing of it doesn’t matter how old he is,” Ross said. “He is alive. It’s that bit of it all that one doesn’t want to lose with age.”

The point was, Reznor said: “Let’s try some stuff. We’re bored. We are. You know what I mean? We’re grateful. We enjoy doing films. We can write a better Nine Inch Nails record, I think. We can put on a cooler tour. We are aimed to do that. But man, what if we try to do that?” Meaning, the company. “What if we could take what we’re good at, like we did with film? We identified something I think we’re good at and we figured out how to apply it to something else. What if we take that theory and try it on some other things? And that’s led us into: we’re not beaten down completely yet. And it feels exciting. That’s what matters to us right now.”

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Styled by Mobolaji Dawodu Grooming by Johnny Stuntz using Dior Capture Totale Hyalushot SFX Makeup by Malina Stearns Grills by Alligator Jesus Tailoring by Yelena Travkina Set design by Lizzie Lang at 11th House Agency Produced by Emily O’Meara at JN Production

#my ninposting #my transcription #trent reznor #atticus ross #nin #nine inch nails #trent #reznor #gq

[stra-tek]

The Animated Series' weird takes on Trek history deep dive!

Check out S.S. Bonaventure 10281NCC from "The Time Trap", according to Scotty "the first ship to have warp drive installed"

Among the council we see a woman in a white Starfleet TOS-ish uniform with blue collar and a science insignia, presumably a surviving crewmember.

TAS is weird because it was out of continuity during the 90's, due to Filmation's bankruptcy and subsequent rights issues and Gene Roddenberry's supposed dislike of it. As a result, episodes and novels were forbidden from referencing it even if a few were snuck in regardless and subsequent Treks took things in different directions.

Now in 1993 the Star Trek Chronology was released, largely ignoring TAS. It featured this same named ship, which subsequently made it into a Deep Space Nine episode via this graphic:

And this Bonaventure design would be inspiration for the Phoenix in the movie First Contact

So how does TAS' Bonaventure fit now? Ummmm not so well. Fans speculated she was the first ship to have a Dilithium powered warp drive... until Star Trek: Enterprise nuked that. And then TAS nuked itself on those details a little later...

April's Enterprise

"The Counter-Clock Incident" is the first time we meet Robert April and his wife Sarah. Robert April was an early name, eventually changed to Christopher Pike for the 1st pilot episode of live action Star Trek and eventually James Kirk for the original series proper. Then retroactively made into different characters who commanded the Enterprise prior to Kirk.

Sarah comes out with "As the first medical officer aboard a ship with warp drive..." which is problematic to say the least.

TAS seems to imagine a universe where Bonaventure 10281NCC was launched shortly before the Enterprise, and warp drive and everything are all very new. The Star Trek Chronology and then the Enterprise series would move things back considerably, giving us the warp-powered Enterprise NX-01 with Dr. Phlox a century before Kirk's time.

Spock and the Enterprise's age

In "Counter-Clock Incident", weird stuff happens and the crew are in a bizarre reverse universe where they age backwards. April begins as a 75 year old man heading to mandatory retirement, but as everyone de-ages he ends up a young man looking much like Jim Kirk. At that time, everyone else is a toddler. Spock lasts longer though, and is still functional on the bridge as a teenager until the last few moments. This implies Spock is the oldest by far of the TOS crew, which makes sense due to the long lifespans of Vulcans. However, beginning with that 1993 Chronology book and made official in Star Trek Beyond, Spock is only 3 years older than Jim, born 2230 and 2233 respectively.

And how old does this make the U.S.S. Enterprise NCC-1701? This goes all the way back to The Making of Star Trek, which supposed the vessel is 40 years old at the time of TOS - something modern Trek would cut roughly in half. Strange New Worlds makes official her launch year as 2245, when Jim Kirk was 12 and Spock 15 (and in the Kelvin Universe, the Enterprise is launched much later in 2258 under Pike, but that's explicitly an AU where everything post 2233 is different)

The Man-Kzin Wars

I wrote a whole thing about the Kzinti in Trek here:

In Larry Niven's Known Space novel universe, the Kzinti were defeated when humans invented faster-than-light travel. In the 1970's, long before Star Trek First Contact, Star Trek Enterprise or the official Chronology book, I'd guess the 4 Man-Kzin Wars took place much as in Known Space, warp drive made the difference. But what does Sulu say?

"The Kzinti fought four wars with humankind and lost all of them. The last one was two hundred years ago..."

So despite "The Counter-Clock Incident" implying 40 years ago for warp drive and "The Time Trap" giving us a first ship with warp drive looking much like the TAS Enterprise implying it's not that old, now it's 200 years ago. Which in modern Trek would be around the time of Star Trek First Contact. I have a headache.

So in summery, TAS is amazing and it's continuity is utterly flawless and it's everything else made since that's wrong even when TAS clearly wasn't paying attention to what it itself had established.

#star trek #deep dive #star trek the animated series #star trek the original series #deep lore #star trek chronology #star trek books #robert april #spock

[thehusbandoden]

Words as Sweet as Honey -Aizawa Shota x Reader

A/n: technically this is for a request but also it's givin' me a break O.o

I may write and post another one in a few hours, but no promises! <33

General info:

Genre: fluff // wc: 1,388 // female reader

Summary: Aizawa Shota never knew that words could be anything but hurtful or empty until he met you.

Aizawa Shota brought many different emotions and thoughts from a lot of different people. But almost none of them were endearing.

~

"Moody and grim. Doesn't seem like the type to have a social circle."

"Myserious and untrustworthy. I'm sure he's the traitor of UA."

"Strict and unreliable. He likes to sleep and lie a lot."

~

Were all some of the things Shota heard many times in his lifetime, in the beginning they bothered him, but after a while he develeoped an immunity to such cowardly insults.

He thought words were meaningless and wouldn't affect him anymore. But he never thought that mere words could make him feel so... warm.

It started with one goregous, playful, kind, and bold assistant. She had just got her degree for teaching and started working as an assistant. Even though Aizawa complained about having to 'pick up her slack' Principal Nezu didn't even bat an eye and assigned you to him. A part of him actually thought the two of you would work quite well together and partially hoped you'd take a liking to the tsundere teacher, and he'd do the same for you.

It took so long that he started to loose hope, but after a year and a half Shota asked you out. The two of you dated for nine months before you jumped into engagement, and then marriage three months later.

Nezu was pleased, the students were flabergasted, your fellow coworkers were smug -and a few quite richer then before-, and the two of you finally found somone who made you happy.

Even when Shota was dating you, he kept telling himself that the reason your sugar filled compliments made his face so hot and his knees so weak was because you two were still new. It was exciting to have someone he cared for that felt the same for him, and he was xsurex that you would eventually stop having that effect on him.

And he continued to make exuses and brush your words off until one night three weeks into your marriage.

~~~~

You were both quietly holding one another, him on his back, and you on his chest. After a very meaningful night full of one another and kisses as sweet as honey, you were simply bathing in one another's presense, so in love with eachother that your hearts ached.

"Shota.. you're so goregous.." you murmurred, causing his chest to shake in a chuckle.

"Say what you want Princess."

"I mean it." You replied, holding yourself up to gaze into his dark eyes.

"Okay, whatever floats your boat."

"Shota. You're goregous. Why do you keep thinking otherwise?"

Shota just sighed in annoyance, resting his hand on your head to gently guide you back to his chest.

"Don't worry about it Kitten.. let's just go back to silence."

"No no no. This is important.. why do you keep denying how goregous you are?!"

"Y/n.. I'm sorry for worrying you, I just don't see what you mean, you don't need to worry my love."

"Shota Aizawa. Look at me." You demand, pushing up to grasp his chin, caputring his gaze with your piercing e/c eyes.

"You. Are. Goregous. You are literally the sexiest man alive- I have never seen anyone more attractive then you. Your black eyes that may seem cold but are actually full of love, your smile- though sometimes creepy- is very endearing. Your hair is so soft and dreamy.. and your-"

"Okay okay- that's enough." Shota blushed, face a deep red.

"Do you really?" You ask, eyes piercing his.

"Y-yeah.."

"Good." Releasing your grip on his chin you move it to brush a strand of hair out of his face, staring into his onyx eyes. Leaning down, you pressed your lips against his, kissing him sweetly.

Moving one hand to your waist and another to cheek Shota kissed you back, causing you to hum and entangle your hands into his hair.

~~~~

Since that night Shota acknowledged how your words affected him, letting himself indulge in your honey-sweet words, returning them with his own, one upping you by giving you a breath taking kiss with each compliment.

After a while his world expanded into three people instead of two, your son holding a special place in his heart, mere inches below your own special place.

Aizawa Satoshi, first born son of Aizawa Shota and Aizawa y/n. He was deemed a genious since the beginning, and he shined from his light. He was full of smiles and laughter, he made friends quickly, due to his friendliness and kindess.

He had his Mama's eyes, and his Dada's hair. His facial structure leaned towards his Mama's, but he had his Dad's jawline.

Shota's love continues to grow each day, and so far has had eight beautiful years with his firstborn son. Even though some days were harder then others, he loved his son entirely, and was eternally greatful to you for both carrying and birthing the children the two of you shared.

Next came Emiko, your daughter. Once again she molded another place for herself, completely level with her older brother.

Emiko was sweet as sugar, and made anyone she ran into melt. Like her brother, she smiled all the time, and was a pro at negotiating.

Once again like her brother, she had Dada's hair and Mom's eyes, but she looked identical to her Dad, only resembling her Mom'd appearance with her eyes, height, and nose.

She was loved by all, but her number one fan had to be her brother.

The older boy took care of his sister since day one, she immediately took place as his best friend, and they were inseperable. Even though most days they fought like cats and dogs, if xanyonex dared try and harm her they'd have to go through her big brother, and then had to deal with their parents a few seconds later.

Emiko was only two years younger then Satoshi, and will be turning six in two weeks.

And then came Seji. Much like his older siblings he was full of smiles and kindness, making friends just as easy. Though a bit spoiled, he got along with everyone well.

Unlike his silbings, he had familiar onyx eyes and h/c hair, and instead of resembling most of one of his parents he had a largte mix in him, barely leaning more towards you.

Once again his special spot was level with his siblings, number two in Shota's entire world, mere inches below his Mama. Seji just turned two, and was protected by his entire family- including the cats.

If the Aizawa kids' goregous Mama wasn't enough to convince Shota that words weren't just empty or hurtful, but that they could be full of love, his kids finished the job.

Shota was truly spoiled. Spoiled beyond compare- in his opinion.

Every morning he was greeted by the cutest 'Dada!' or 'Daddy~!', creating a warmth that exploded from his chest, spreading all across his body.

To accompany the sweet nicknames, his kids made sure to tell him that he was very handsome, that they loved him very much, and spread secrets about their Mama.

"Mama said that you were the bestest Daddy ever!"

"Dada, Dada! Mommy says that she loved you a week after you met! Did you love her then too?!"

"Mommy says that she wants another baby!!"

"Daddy~! Mommy bought a pillow with you on it!"

Shota chuckled as the little ones rambled to him, always saving the information to tease you with later.

Due to Shota working so much, he got the kids ready for school, holding Seji the majority of the time, and then poutedly woke you up, apologizing as he gives you your morning, breath taking kiss, and handing you your toddler.

He would then take the older two kids to school and then hurry to UA himself. He would also pick the kids up and then come home to you and Seji, smiling as the toddler grabbed for him, making sure to give you a kiss while shuffling Seji around, making sure both himself and the three year old were comfortable.

Though your family wasn't perfect, and you had many rough patches- as every family does- you all loved one anther greatly, and you would make sure to get through and hard time together, no matter how imposibble it seemed.

~~~~~

Shota's masterlist | Navigation

Tips <3

Reblogs help spread and therefore support my work but any support is appreciated <33

~~~~~

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way -minus reblogging.

#mha #bnha #mha fanfiction #mha x reader #bnha x reader #fluff #mha x reader fluff #shota aizawa #aizawa shota #aizawa x reader fluff #aizawa x female reader #aizawa x reader #husband aizawa x reader #dad aizawa x mom reader #bnha x reader fluff #thehusbandoden

[micromoon]

Breaking point

Pairing: Steven Grant x afab!reader (mentions of Jake Lockley x fem!reader and Marc Spector x fem!reader)

Rating: 18+ (minors, DNI!)

Warnings: established relationship, you know about all the moonboys and they know about each other as well, female masturbation, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie, a hint of degradation, jealousy, power imbalance, Steven being a little mean and a cocky and jealous ass(is that considered a warning?), possessiveness, have I mentioned?; jealousy, deep throating, face fucking, spanking, a tiny little bit of double penetration, a tiny hint of humiliation kink?, a teensy tiny bit of angst

Summary: Steven is sick and tired of always being seen as the weakling of the moonboys, being pushed around by everyone around him. He is pent up and wants to let loose and just for once, he doesn't care about the consequences.

Disclaimer: I do not have DID, so if my depiction of it is wrong, please let me know! This is my first time writing after almost three years and im not a native speaker either, so please have mercy on my poor soul

Word count: approax 7k

It's been weeks since you actually got some time with Steven. Since you worked from home, you always had the opportunity to see all of them equally and even though Jake came out rarely, nowadays it's Steven you're missing to see. Whenever he comes back from work, Marc is fronting, telling you how Steven was too tired and just needed his time. You always respected it when the boys needed their space, but after almost three weeks you began to miss him more and more.

Of course, Jake and Marc did everything to distract you, in more than just one way, loving you, holding you, fucking you. Fucking you well. And often. It seemed to blow off the steam you had inside of you, the desire and yearning you felt for Steven, your eyes wandering to the mirror more than often, asking yourself if Steven was watching right now and if he enjoyed it.

You had no idea that he indeed watched. With a clenched jaw, his gaze hard and stoic, no emotion seen in his usually soft features. You writhed and squirmed so beautifully whenever one of them took care of you, your body flushed with lust and your eyes hazy with tears. They just seemed to always hit the spot, which Steven was able to as well, but he did it so lovingly that it never made you cry from pleasure. It made you shudder and shiver, made you smile and sigh, but not downright scream or moan, just how you did whenever you were with Marc or Jake.

And that made him jealous. More than he actually wanted to admit – because how did that sound? He was jealous of his alters, those who looked just like him but weren't him, in so many ways. It sounded stupid to him. Why didn't he just do what they did to you?

Because that wasn't him. Steven didn't have any anger boiling in his chest, nothing he had to release, it was always the same.

But since Donna decided to get to an even higher level of bitchiness, he knew it wouldn't take long for him to absolutely explode. It seemed like she just went to work to nag at him and boss him around, which he tolerated for way too long. The constant mocking of Donna paired with the jealousy of his alters finally got to a point he wasn't able to ignore anymore and so he decided, that it was time to finally blow off some steam.

“Would you, for once, do your god damn job, Steven? Stand by the shop and just shut up, no one wants to hear about your nonsense ramblings of the seven Ennead.”

Donna's annoyed voice reverberated inside of Steven's head, her voice reminding him of long nails dragging along a chalkboard – the noise absolutely hideous, ringing in his ears. He gulped. He could feel his blood pressure rising, just like it did all those days before, white noise slowly forming in his head, successfully drowning out Donna for a few seconds. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“Nine, Donna. They are nine.”, he pressed through gritted teeth, sighing exasperated as he just shook his head at her ignorant behaviour. She huffed, chewing on her gum obnoxiously, “Seven, nine, whatever. I don't give a shit. What I give a shit about is how many of those sweets you'll sell, so get to fucking work or I'll make you do inventory again.” And with those words she disappeared from Stevens sight, making him roll his eyes as he lightly leaned back and took a deep breath.

“Just three more hours..”, he muttered to himself, gripping the little package of sweets so hard that it actually ripped. His eyebrows furrowed, visibly displeased with himself as he crouched down and collected the sweets, catching a glimpse of his own reflection, Marc staring back at him.

“You look pissed”, he hummed, amusement dancing in his eyes as Steven glared at him, “Oh yeah, I actually am pissed, Marc. Do you want a price for figuring that out?”, he asked him back, his voice snappy which caused Marc to chuckle darkly.

“Damn, you really need to get your dick wet again. I can see the tension in your shoulders”, Marc commented, making Steven roll his eyes once again, but at Marc's next words, he stilled.

“Y/N misses you too, you know.”

Steven looked right back into the mirror, something changing in his eyes as soon as Marc mentioned you. There was desire, lust, but first and foremost – yearning. He yearned for you, so insanely much, but formerly, he felt so ashamed that he wasn't able to make you squirt or cum the way Marc or Jake were able to.

But that was over. Today he knew he was able to make you scream his name, only his, and not Marcs or Jakes. He was sure that tonight, he'd make you forget about both of them, only him occupying your mind and body.

“I do too. Tonight you won't be fronting and neither will Jake. No discussion about that.”, he said sternly, before standing up again and throwing the sweets into the trash, giving Marc no chance to answer and finally getting to concentrate on the task at hand: work.

While Steven was at work, you already finished yours. You cleaned the apartment, doing it all in one of Steven's shirts. You laid down on the couch, Steven's scent filling up your nostrils, causing you to lightly press your thighs against each other.

God, you missed Steven's tender and soft touch. You missed the way he caressed you, made love to you. He was different from Marc and Jake, that was obvious from the start, but that was exactly why you loved him. Even though you always had a feeling that he was holding something back, hiding something from you that he didn't want you to see. Whenever the two of you made love and he grabbed you a bit too harsh, he apologized as if he broke his aunts favourite porcelain, which always caused you to blink in wonder.

Was he afraid he could hurt you? Didn't he see how rough the other two were with you and how much you were able to take? Or did he not trust you enough for that?

You didn't know. But god, you wanted him so bad. You wanted him to lose his temper just once, so he was able to release all his stress at once. The thought of Steven getting dominant with you, manhandling you and pushing you into the positions he wanted caused your pussy to throb in need.

You took a deep breath, before putting your middle finger into your mouth to lightly suckle on it, pressing your thighs a bit harder together, to get even the slightest bit of friction to your clit.

When you deemed your finger wet enough, you pushed your hand underneath your panties, spreading your legs widely as you slowly started to circle your clit, imagining Steven's voice and touch. Slowly you started to move your hips against your hand, your fingers slipping between your wet folds as you circled your entrance once, collecting some of your arousal to spread it all over your pussy.

“Fuck”, you moaned, rolling your hips more and more, your other hand sneaking underneath Steven's shirt to play with your nipples and when you noticed that it got too hot, you took the shirt off and mindlessly threw it away.

You knew it didn't take long for you to cum, always having been rather sensitive, especially when it comes to your clit and just when you thought you could come, there was this noise.

Usually, you'd just continue, but not when you heard that sound. It was the familiar bell sound you set as the messaging sound for your boys. So you took your hand out of your panties, grabbing your phone and unlocking it.

Your heart almost skipped a beat when you saw who exactly send you a message, a giddy feeling spreading in your tummy, something that made your pussy throb even more than your fingers did just now.

“I can't wait to see you tonight, my dear. - S”

The smile that spread all over your face was out of this world and you immediately sat up, forgetting about the orgasm you almost had and just focusing on the message.

“Me neither, Steven. Please come home quickly.”, you sent back, quickly standing up and hopping underneath the shower. If you were desperate for his touch, you were absolutely certain that he was dying for yours. So without thinking twice, you made yourself ready, putting on the body lotion you knew Steven loved and a plain shirt – knowing that he was the type to prefer you absolutely naked.

But in your rush and excitement, you actually didn't notice how you didn't grab Steven's, but Marc's shirt.

Of course. Just when Steven's shift ended, it had to rain. But not the soft rain, no, it was pouring, wetting him to the bones and making his clothes cling to him uncomfortably. Quickly he hurried to the apartment complex, adamant to get inside fast.

“For fucks sake”, he growled underneath his breath, shaking his head right before stepping into the entrance hall. It was so quiet that it was audible how much he was dripping, the floor underneath him getting slippery and squeaky.

Steven opened the door to your shared apartment. Firstly, it was just his, but after a few months of dating you decided that living together would be a good thing. Especially as you wanted to get to know all of his alters individually, in a space where all of them felt safe enough to talk and be the way they really were.

You heard the door open, your body immediately moving as you walked towards the living room, where he just came in.

“Hey Steven!”, you smiled all happily, about to run to him, but you stopped yourself when you took a better look at him.

And immediately you noticed how something was off. He didn't greet you with the usual chirpy voice of his – very much the opposite, he just stared at you. In disbelief almost. Your eyebrows raised as you looked him up and down. Something about him looked different too. His whole demeanor was not how you were used to it, he stood differently, his back straight and his eyes harsh on your face.

No, not your face. He looked at your body.

A little insecurely you looked down at yourself, fearing that you had a disgusting spot on it from snacking, but when you noticed that there was nothing, you looked back up at him. You tilted your head to the side, stepping a little closer to him reluctantly. Was that even Steven? He didn't look like Steven, nor did he ooze the aura Steven usually had.

“Marc?”, you asked, your voice a little meek as you didn't know what to do out of his reaction – or well, the lack of it.

“Maybe Marc's who you wanted and expected, but no, it is indeed me, Steven.”, he clarified, his British accent thicker than usually, his hair dripping from the rain outside. His words kind of stung in your heart. Why did he say that? You never favored any of the boys over the other, you loved all three of them equally.

“Why would you say that?”, you asked him now, your voice a little thinner than usually and he just huffed a bit, taking off his bag and running a hand through his soaked hair. He looked at you as if it was obvious why he said it, something almost mocking glimmering in his eyes. He took his jacket off and hung it in the bathroom, before coming back to you, his shirt clinging to his toned torso, making him look deliciously buff.

You hated how your pussy clenched at the thought of his soft skin underneath your palms. You were just getting lost in the thought of his hands on your body as he suddenly cut you off with his voice, the question you asked just moments ago almost forgotten.

“Why are you wearing his shirt then?”

The question hit you like a brick. Slowly you looked down at yourself and realized that he was indeed right – you wore one of Marc's favorite shirts.

Not that it was a very big kind of deal, but you noticed already that he always somehow ushered you to wear his clothes when he was fronting.

Was that an ego thing?

You didn't know, but the way Steven got so possessive, no, downright pissed already, because of you wearing Marc's shirt sent shivers down your spine.

To say that you were a brat was an understatement – you had a lot of fun teasing Marc and Jake, only with Steven you never were able to bring yourself to do it, as he was always so sweet and gentle with you.

But this Steven? He was different. And so your inner brat was sparked.

“I just took the first I saw”, you tried to defend yourself, a tiny pout on your lips, trying to make yourself look more alluring and innocent to him, as much as it was possible.

Usually your big puppy eyes always made Steven cave in, but not this time. He looked at you as if your little attempt on calming his nerves didn't even touch him. Slowly he walked up to you, his gaze piercing through you almost as he raised his hand.

The way he looked at you, his whole form still wet from the rain and his aura so dark and intimidating – it made the air around the two of you thicken, the tension rising more and more, leaving you absolutely speechless. Your heart stopped beating for a moment, you were so insanely curious what he'd do next, there was nothing you could expect from him right now as he wasn't how he usually was.

But you were ever so sure that he'd caress your cheek now, saying that he'd understand and that it was a stupid thing of him to get so mad over, but no.

You couldn't be further from the truth.

Because Steven's other hand raised as well, grabbing right into your collar to rip the shirt that you were wearing to pieces.

A loud gasp left your mouth, your eyes almost widening comically as you looked down at yourself, stripped absolutely bare as the little pieces of fabrics fell on the floor, leaving you in your panties only, as you never wore a bra at home.

The sound that left Steven's mouth was amused, the corners of his mouth twitching up as he watched his little artwork.

“'Atta girl, that I like better”, he'd smirk, his eyes meeting yours as his own glistened cheekily. You were still absolutely shocked by the display of sheer power and dominance, standing there like a little deer caught in headlights.

It made Steven chuckle, the sound deep and raspy, making goosebumps rise all over your skin.

And even though you thought this was insanely hot from him, one wasn't as turned on as you.

“What the fuck Steven?! That was one of my favorite shirts!”, Marc protested loudly, his face being seen in the mirror that stood in the living room.

Suddenly, the amused look of Steven vanished within seconds, Marcs appearance annoying him immediately. Steven's eyes met Marcs and with a light huff, he rolled his eyes.

“Grow up, mate.”, he told him, “It's just a shirt. Now get out of my face.”, he demanded, grabbing his rubiks cube and shamelessly throwing it against the mirror, making it shatter and fall onto the floor.

You watched all of this shocked, but you didn't dare turn around to the mirror. You were sure that if you did, you'd anger Steven even more. And something told you that you didn't want to anger him that much.

Finally, he looked back at you, his eyes immediately changing as they were filled with lust. He only needed to look at your bare body, so vulnerable right in front of him. It was enough to get him going, his cock already starting to get hard.

“Get on the bed, love.”

He didn't need to tell you twice, within the blink of an eye you were on your shared bed, your panties already clinging to your core.

When he followed you, you expected him to join you on the bed, lay you down and eat you out, because this was what he always did. He always cared for your pleasure first, made you come multiple times before even thinking of taking something from you.

So without even thinking twice, you made yourself comfortable, laying down with your head on your pillows and your legs spread. But when Steven entered the room and saw the way you lied there, he couldn't help but chuckle.

“If that's an invitation, I must decline.”, he told you matter off factly, as he slowly took his watch off, not even sparing another glance in your direction. His response to your vulnerable position shocked you, but what shocked you more was the electric feeling that was sent to your pussy as soon as he downright refused you.

It sparked something in you, wanting him to want you even more than before. You squeezed your legs together, a small whimper leaving your mouth as you leaned forward and closer to the edge of the bed, closer to him.

“Steven, please”, you tried with the sweetest voice you could muster, but Steven didn't even react. At least not the way you wanted to.

He looked at you, his expression still as amused ever as he lightly tilted his head to the side.

“The headspace of us three has some benefits, did ya' know that, love?”, he suddenly started to explain, as he walked towards the bed, taking long and slow steps.

“For example the thing that we're able to hear whatever our alter is hearing if we're close enough to fronting.”, he continued, his eyes raking over your form, his gaze stopping at your lips for a moment, before he looked right into your eyes.

Finally he raised his hand and put it on your cheek, gently caressing your bottom lip with his thumb, as he looked at you almost apologetically.

“So all your begging that you do to Marc and Jake is nothing new to me”, he told you as he was talking to a little pet that he had to teach wasn't able to get what it wanted by just looking cute.

His words left you speechless. Begging was something that made Marc and even Jake cave in eventually. If that wasn't working with Steven, what to do now?

“But-”, you wanted to protest already, but he shook his head, immediately shutting you up without even having to say a word. What was it about this cocky Steven that made you speechless without any effort?

Maybe it was because whenever you talked back to Jake or Marc, both of them reacted the same – loud, explosive almost. Their punishment was immediate, they even announced it beforehand. But you had a feeling that Steven wasn't that way. His anger was quiet and seething, he was one to strike when you least expected it.

And you had no idea if you were able to handle that today, after being apart from Steven for so long.

“Today you'll be a good girl for me”, he suddenly started, his thumb slowly pressing down on your bottom lip so you'd open your mouth. He forced his thumb inside of you, his eyes darkening immediately as he felt the warmth of your mouth.

“Because if you won't, you'll regret it heavily.”, he said, his words almost cutting through the thick air that was collecting in the whole room. The tension was unbearable and it made you melt, made you putty right in his hands even though he didn't even touch you properly.

“Okay Steven”, you breathed out, your lips curling around his thumb as you gently began to suck on it, causing him to smirk.

“Oh no, you shouldn't waste your stamina on my thumb”, he told you, before slipping it even deeper into your mouth to make you gag, the cheekiest grin on his lips. It made your eyes water, but not only because of him pushing his thumb so far down your throat, no. It was because he was belittling you so much too.

“Get on your knees”, he suddenly instructed you and without thinking twice, you slipped from the bed and right between his legs, attempting to open his pants and yank them down immediately, but Steven stopped you just when you wanted to pull them down. “Easy there, tigress. I told you to get on your knees and nothing more. Didn't I tell you, you should be a good girl today?”, he asked you as he looked down at you. The position made who was in charge here painfully clear and so you gulped lightly, your hands on your lap now as you nodded.

“Sorry”, you hummed quietly, but Steven had nothing of that. He grabbed your jaw and made you look up at him again, his eyes sharp.

“Proper sentences, love. Might as well use them for as long as you can.”, he said, the grin on his lips more then audible. His dark promise made you gulp once again and your pussy throb, your eyes focused on his, as you opened your mouth:

“I am sorry, Steven. That won't happen again.”

He nodded at your words, before letting go of your jaw as his eyes were still on you.

“Now get my cock out and get it nice and wet, yeah?”

You didn't need to hear that twice as you straightened your back and opened his pants, reaching right into his underwear to pull his cock out. You almost moaned at the sight of it, your mouth salivating as you put it into your mouth.

Steven's reaction was immediate, there was a loud sigh leaving his mouth as he lightly bit down on his lip.

“God fuckin' finally, 's been too long love”, he muttered darkly, his eyes focused on you as you licked over his tip, your hands working on the rest of his cock.

You did your best to please him, stroking him the way you knew he loved it and sucking right underneath the tip of his cock – knowing that it would drive him insane. You were so sure he was far gone already, his head tossed back and his adam's apple bobbing up and down all quickly.

But when you looked up, you were only met with his dark and lust-filled eyes, you were genuinely surprised. You thought he was already losing himself, but no he hasn't even budged a little bit. But that didn't dampen your spirits, quite the opposite, you instantly sat up a bit more and took a deep breath through your nose.

As if Steven was able to feel what you were about to do, he raised his eyebrow at you, the corner of his mouth lightly twitching up as he tilted his head to the side.

“Oh?”, he hummed, as you looked deeply into his eyes and put your hands on his meaty thighs, squeezing them softly, before starting to swallow his cock fully, making you gag and your eyes sting with tears.

The moan that ripped from Steven was loud and genuine, his head tilting back for a moment as your nose hit his pelvis. His hair tickled your nose for a moment, but you didn't mind, you held your position as you never looked away from his face, loving how his cheeks finally dusted in a slight red.

“Fuck, you're swallowing my cock like a little slut”, he suddenly hissed loudly, which made you almost gasp, your throat tightening around his length as you looked up at him wide-eyed. Usually Steven never called you names, he only ever praised you, calling you his goddess and his good little girl. But this, this was new from him. The dirty words paired with his British accent almost sent you to overdrive.

Steven licked his lips when he felt how you reacted to his words, his eyebrows raising. “Oh, do you like to be called my little slut?”, he asked you, a taunting lilt to his voice, his eyes twinkling dangerously. “Of course you do. Look at yourself, taking my cock so deep down your throat that you gag and cry”, he continued with his crude words. “But this, this isn't a proper reason to cry yet”, he hummed deeply as he put his hand on your cheek, keeping you from pulling away.

“Remember, three hard pinches on my thighs if you need to tap out”, he reminded you, a sliver of the Steven you knew shining through, but when you nodded at him, it was gone as quickly as it came, his eyes darkening again.

“I want you to take what I am giving to you now without any complaints”, he suddenly said before he leaned forward, making your back meet the end of the bed, your neck on the mattress now. You had a premonition for what was about to come and when he put his foot on the edge of the bed, next to your head, you were sure that he wanted to do what you thought he'd do.

“Im going to fuck that pretty little face of yours now.”, he smirked, his voice all deep and lust-filled. He felt like he was on a high, the way he was able to dominate and overpower you so easily made him feel absolutely euphoric. He looked down at you for one last time to catch you nod for a moment and then he started to move.

When he said he was about to fuck your face, he really meant it. The way his hips snapped into your mouth was ruthless, his moans loud and unabashed. His balls met your chin over and over again, his smell was surrounding you like a thick layer that was slowly coaxing you to lose yourself.

All you could breathe, taste, smell and see was him, rendering you motionless – only able to take what he gave you over and over again. The way he was fucking your face shouldn't have turned you on the way you did, but you couldn't help yourself, all of Steven turned you on in this moment, even if he was a little mean to you.

So without being able to fight it, you put one of your hands between your legs, trying to ease the ache between your legs while the other hand held onto his thigh.

“Bloody hell this is absolutely fantastic!”, he groaned, his eyes rolling back as the sounds of your mouth doubled his arousal, “Your throat was made for fucking, even if you're gagging like that, you're still taking it, taking all of my thick cock”, he hummed all pleased, his eyebrows furrowed as he got lost in the pleasure that your hot throat provided, your tears running down your face without a break.

It didn't take long for you to struggle with your breathing, your eyes rolling back as the lack of oxygen slowly got to your head, making you feel light-headed, even your fingers on your cunt stopping to move and just when you thought you'd faint, you were suddenly pulled back.

Steven's hand was around your throat as he pressed you into the mattress, his cock right in front of your face, your nose touching it. He panted, his face red and covered in sweat, one droplet of it running down his neck.

“My my, little one, who said you could just tap out like that?”, he mocked you, his voice a little hoarse as he sounded slightly out of it and you were the cause of it. It made you smile all dazedly, your tear-filled eyes meeting his. “Could never”, you croaked out, another tear falling down your cheek which he caught with his thumb, wiping it away almost lovingly.

“Mhhm, you're right. I'm not done with you yet either.”, he smirked, suddenly grabbing your body and pulling you up only to hoist you back on the bed.

You had to regain your composure as you turned around because what you saw almost made you salivate yet again.

There he was, looking absolutely fucked out, with his damp hair slicked out of his face. But something annoyed you – he was still fully clothed.

“Steven”, you whined, your lips all red and swollen from him fucking your mouth, “Please, your clothes”, you continued, your gaze meeting his, “Please take them off, I wanna see you so badly”

Your words made Steven smile, all drunk in pleasure as he slowly put his hands on the hem of his shirt, taking it off of his body, revealing his muscled torso and the delicious happy trail that lead to his cock. He didn't say anything as he took his pants and underwear off as well. You could tell that he let off some steam by him fucking your throat that roughly. It eased you, as it loosened the tension a bit.

“Happy now?”, he asked you and you nodded all eagerly, already getting on your knees to get to the edge of the bed to maybe be able to touch him. But he beat you to it, coming closer and allowing you to touch him, your hands running over his pecs, down to his happy trail that you loved so much.

“Missed you so much Steven”, you breathed out shakily, leaning to his chest to press a kiss there, “So fucking much”, you added and suddenly you could feel both of his hands on your cheeks to pull you up and kiss you deeply.

“I missed you to bits as well, my dear”, he hummed against your lips, “But I missed fucking your cunt as well”, he added cheekily, biting down on your bottom lip before tossing you on the bed again, turning you around and grabbing you by the back of your knees to pull you on your knees.

“And now I am going to take what I wanted for so long”, he grumbled, not noticing how he aligned you to the mirror, a devious smile on his lips.

“Yes please, take me.”, you mewled, lightly swaying your hips from left to right. His calloused hands followed the line of your thighs, up to your hips to grab your panties and rip them off of your body. You could only gasp, but the action was long forgotten as he spanked your ass once.

He spread your cheeks, leaning down to watch your pussy which was absolutely ruined by your arousal. It spread so much that even the inner of your thighs were wet.

“Fuck, love,”, he groaned, “Did me fucking your face turn you on that much?”, he asked you, slapping your core once, making you whine loudly.

“You look like you wetted yourself”, he noted, a devilish chuckle leaving his mouth.

“Still gotta prepare that hole of yours, otherwise Imma rip it”, he hummed deep in thought, pushing two of his fingers inside of you without even thinking twice. You gasped loudly, gripping the sheets tightly as you moved your hips in sync with the motion of his fingers.

“Feels so good Steven, mhh, please”, you moaned loudly, your cheeks getting all warm already. He didn't wait long to scissor his fingers inside of you as he got impatient himself, just wanting to finally be buried inside of you, so without further ado, he added a third finger.

When he deemed you stretched out enough, he pulled his fingers out of your cunt, slapping your hole once and smirking at it and the sound it made as well.

“Absolutely perfect”, he complimented you, before spreading your arousal all over his cock. He pumped himself once, twice and then he stopped as an idea came to his mind.

It was quiet suddenly and for a moment you thought there was something wrong, so you looked over your shoulder, your eyes furrowed in worry. But when you saw Stevens heavy-lidded gaze, you gulped a bit.

“'s your safe day, innit?”, he asked you, the words slurred and you knew exactly why. It was one of Stevens favorites. Creampies.

“Hmm, yeah, I am. Just put it in, please”, you hummed, arching your back so your pussy was even more bared to him.

“Fuck me”, he growled underneath his breath, aligning his cock to your entrance, slapping it once before he pushed into you in one swift motion.

It made both of you moan in unison, both of your eyes rolling back at the familiar feeling of his cock inside of you and your pussy around him.

“Fuck”, you moaned, holding onto your sheets tightly as Steven went at it at an alarming pace. He didn't waste any time, it was obvious that he missed the tight grip of your pussy as he was fucking into you like a mad man.

This was something you definitely weren't used to, especially from Steven. He usually made love to you, took you gently and tenderly. But nothing about his thrusts was gentle or tender this time. They were ruthless and unforgiving, not giving you any time to cope as he grabbed your hips harshly, pressing you all close to his pelvis whenever he pushed his cock into you.

It felt like he was using you as his little cock sleeve, chasing after his own high and pleasure and somehow, that wasn't a problem to you. It actually made you feel on fire, the way he was so into you and crazy for you that he couldn't even hold back anymore and just took what he wanted.

As his thrusts were so rough, you almost saw stars when he finally angled himself so he was able to hit that delicious spot inside of you. The scream you let out was shattering and you were sure that the neighbours would file a complaint against the two of you.

But you couldn't care, not right now, not when he was fucking you like there was no tomorrow.

“Yes! Fuck, Steven, just- right- right there!”, you stuttered loudly, your eyes rolling back as you pulled a loud laugh from the man behind you.

“Right there my puppet?”, he growled lowly and you nodded, his hand hitting your behind once more, making you gasp out loud. The whole bed moved with his movements, your temperatures increasing more and more.

Suddenly you could feel how he grabbed the back of your head by your hair, pulling you back and revealing your face to the mirror that was in front of you.

“Fuck, look at her, she's such a whore”, he grunted deeply, “Looking absolutely fucked out while taking my cock”, he grinned widely and wouldn't you feel like your brain was being fucked out, you would have noticed the way he wasn't talking to you.

He was talking to Marc and Jake, who where watching the two of you going at it like animals, both of them absolutely speechless.

“Now I finally get why you're so adamant on treating her so roughly, fuck, she absolutely loves it!”, he declared all delighted, his eyes twinkling before he let go of your hair, letting you crumble down like a house of cards. If it wasn't for the grip of Steven's hands on your hips, his cock would have slipped out, but of course, he couldn't let that happen.

“I am able to fuck you so good too, right, my love?”, he asked you, his voice heated and you could only nod, chanting “Yes yes yes, you can!”, without being able to think of any other answer.

It was satisfying enough for him to make clear to the both of them that he was able to fuck your brains out just like the two were able to.

While he fucked into you, he looked down at your cheeks, loving how they moved with every thrust of his and suddenly, he got an idea.

He knew you enjoyed your asshole being played with, since the day he rimmed you once and you almost came immediately.

“Spread your cheeks for me”, Steven suddenly demanded from you. Your hands instantly flew to your cheeks, grabbing them and spreading them apart to show him your rimmed hole.

Steven couldn't help but smirk, slowly licking his lips before gathering all of his saliva to spit it right on your rimmed hole. You moaned softly, your ass wiggling in anticipation.

He took one of his hands from your hips, licking over his middle finger before putting it on your puckered hole, circling it and causing you to scream almost.

“Oh my god fuck, fuck Steven!”, you cried out loudly, feeling your orgasm approach immediately.

He could tell by the way your walls tightened around him, squeezing his cock tightly, causing his high to come as well.

“Yes, just like that, squeeze my cock”, he grunted deeply as he still fucked into you, feeling how his balls tightened as he was about to cum, but not before you came.

So he slowly slipped the tip of his middle finger into your asshole, that paired with his cock hitting your g-spot over and over again, made you fly face first into one of the most body numbing orgasms you ever felt in your life. Your vision turned white as you screamed out his name, your cunt still being used by his cock as he rode out your orgasm.

Suddenly he took his hand away from your abused hole, grabbing your hips tightly to give you a few more harsh thrusts, before spilling all for what he was worth inside of you. With a loud and dark moan he filled your insides absolutely white, leaning over you and kissing your shoulder, while still being deeply nestled inside of you.

The both of you were out of breath, panting and trying to regain your power as Steven pulled out of you and rolled beside you, laying on his back now while you were still on your stomach.

It was quiet between the two of you, but to your surprise, it wasn't uncomfortable. You finally understood why he was acting like that and just now you realized that he talked to Marc and Jake when he took you from behind.

There was a tension coming off from Steven, even though there was no trace of his anger anymore, but you could only assume that it was because of his behavior. But you wanted him to know that there was nothing to feel bad for, so you tried to inch closer to him to kiss his lips.

“I love you, Steven”, you whispered against his lips, causing him to bite down on his own for a moment.

“Wasn't I too rough?”, he asked you now, a tiny hint of insecurity in his voice.

“Not at all”, you immediately gave back, “You can't ever be too rough on me, Steven. You know I love all of you, even your mad side”, you assured him, “Besides, I doubt I ever came this hard in my life, so please, don't worry about it.”

That made Steven cackle lightly, his eyes twinkling mischieviously.

“Thank god, because I doubt that I can go a long time without fucking you like this.”, he told you now, before getting up and curling his arms around your body to hoist you up.

“But now you'll take a loo, we'll shower together and then we'll get comfortable with some snacks, yeah?”

“I'd love that a lot, Steven.”

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #smut #steven grant smut #marc spector smut #jake lockley smut #oscar isaac

[mandoalorian]

Look For The Light [Joel Miller x F!Reader]

Prologue: Part I

Summary: You are a hardened survivor trying to navigate your way in a post-apocolyptic world when you bump into an old friend who goes by the name of Joel Miller.

Warnings: the reader is slightly younger than Joel, say a 10-year age gap? All TLOU relevant warnings such as gore, violence, guns, drugs, and cursing. Joel has an anxiety disorder which parallels his portrayal in the games. Diet talk. Expect smut later on… [Please do not read if you are under the age of 18!]

Author’s Note: I can’t believe it has taken me so long to write a full-blown Joel fic. Those of you who know me well know that I became a fan of TLOU in 2019, just a year before I became a fan of Pedro. I was elated when it was announced he’d been cast as Joel and thus far, I am thrilled with his performance and the many themes of the TV show that have stayed true to the game/s. It is everything I could’ve asked for, and more. I feel as though there is no better person qualified to write a ‘re-write’ per-se of the game/TV show, and I aim to release chapters in time for the new episodes coming out. 

Word count: 6,800 words.

Masterlist | Want to support me? | Listen to 'Look For The Light' on Spotify

<Please remember to reblog to show your love and support! Reblogs give me the motivation to continue the series, and motivation means that I’m able to pump out chapters quicker than usual!>

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Sarah had been sitting on the patio since she finished middle school at noon, waiting for her dad to come home from work. Every school in the US was let out early today for some unknown reason. Government orders. But when Sarah’s dad called her at four-thirty and told her that he’d be home at nine, she thought little of it. This often happened, especially this season. With it just being him and Tommy, working on big contracting jobs often took some time, but Joel often reassured Sarah that it was better that way. Despite their constant brotherly bickering, Joel and Tommy were hard workers and made an excellent team. When Joel heard how disappointed Sarah was that he would be home late, he told her that she could take some money out of his wallet, which was located in his bedside drawer. He told her she could order a pizza and stay up late to watch a movie, and if she got bored waiting up for him, then she could visit their neighbours—the Adlers. They weren’t remarkable company, but they were kind people and they adored Sarah.

Sarah’s mind worked fast as soon as her father hung up the call and it didn’t take long for her to concoct a plan. If she recalled correctly, there was a cheese pizza in the freezer, so instead of ordering take-out, she opted to take her dad’s money and his favourite (yet broken) watch to the jewellers to get fixed. Luckily it wasn’t too far and she managed to get there before five, which was closing time. Sarah was elated that she was able to do this for her father. He always complained about his broken watch, and he was so busy that he was never given the opportunity to get it fixed.

She placed the broken watch on the counter, alongside a twenty-dollar bill, and she offered the gentleman who worked in the store a small wave ‘hello’. He was an older man with white hair and crow’s feet by the corner of his eyes, a sign that he’d smiled a lot during his lifetime. 

“Oh, hey Sarah. How’s your dad?” The man, who according by his nametag, went by Eric, enquired while picking up the wristwatch and examining the damage. 

“He’s good, thanks. Working late tonight,” Sarah hummed absent-mindedly while she admired the many antiques and trinkets which were dotted around the store. This wasn’t your traditional jeweller—but somewhat of a pawn shop where you could buy the occasional bracelet or diamond ring. “Actually, it’s his birthday tomorrow. Was hoping to get his favourite watch fixed.”

Eric chuckled heartedly. “Well, you’re in luck, kid. Looks like it just needs a new battery. That’ll get it ticking again.” After a few short moments, he returned the repaired watch to Sarah. Eric slid the twenty-dollar bill back over to her.

“No no,” Sarah surrendered her hands. “That’s your payment,” Sarah put the watch in her backpack. “Please take it.”

“Your father is a good man, and you’re a sweet kid—doing this for him. Don’t worry about the payment, I—” Just as he was about to finish his sentence, an older woman came charging into the front of the store, appearing panicked and dishevelled. “Honey, what’s the matter?”

Sarah identified the woman as the shopkeeper’s wife and noted her shaky hands and rapid movements. She was in a frenzy.

“We have to close the store,” the woman said quickly. 

“What? Why?”

“We have to close the store!” the woman repeated this time shouting, and switching over the ‘Open’ sign to read ‘Closed’. She then turned to Sarah and grabbed the young girl by her arms. “You need to go home. Now.”

“Wh—is everything—” Sarah couldn’t even finish her sentence when the lady began to push her out the front door. Within seconds, the door to the store slammed shut and locked, and the blinds flew down. 

Sarah stood outside the jewellers for a few moments, her brain trying to register everything that had just happened. It wasn’t until an abundance of fire trucks and police cars zoomed past her; their sirens were deafeningly loud. Sarah heard some screams in the distance and took that as her sign to head home. She hoped that her dad would get home at nine as he promised.

The streets were eerily quiet on the walk home, and there wasn’t a soul in sight. Sarah noted the lack of cars on the road. She wanted to take her time to travel back to her neighbourhood—after all, her father wouldn’t be back for hours and she had plenty of time to kill, but the more she began to think about the things she had seen, the more she found her footsteps were speeding up into a fast pace.

When Sarah arrived home, she fumbled with the keys to unlock the front door. The sky was growing dark now and she wondered what she could do with herself to keep occupied while she waited for Joel to return home. Mrs Adler, the Miller’s neighbour, called for her, and Sarah turned to see the nice lady relaxing on the front porch, next to her mother who was much older. Sarah picked up the keys and pondered across the Adlers’ front lawn, and over to their porch, greeting Mrs Adler.

Sarah spent the rest of the evening with the Adler’s and their dog, Mercy. By eight-thirty, Sarah headed home, but not before taking ‘Curtis and Viper 2’ from Mrs Adler’s DVD shelf. Mrs Adler was fine with Sarah taking the movie. She described it as a boyish film, anyway. Sarah watched the movie and cooked her frozen pizza. By midnight, she found herself becoming increasingly worried about why her dad hadn’t returned home at nine like he had promised. Usually, she would be okay with it, knowing the nature of his job-- but with the strange occurrences that had been happening today, something felt off. 

The pale crescent moon shone like a silvery claw in the velvet night sky. When Joel finally pulled up into the driveway, he sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. He wasn’t getting enough sleep, and he was beginning to feel the effects of the long laborous hours on the same damn job. Tommy left at nine but Joel stayed back for a few hours to tie up loose ends. At least now he was paid, and he could forget all about it. He remained in his seat for a little while, listening to the end of the radio broadcast.

“—Indonesian minister of health released a statement today stating that the government is doing everything in their power to maintain the spread of the Cordyceps infection in Jakarta.”

Joel turned off the radio and left his truck. His mind was far too preoccupied to understand the severity of what was going on in the world around him. As he sauntered to the front patio, he cursed himself for being home so late knowing that Sarah would have been disappointed in him.

To his surprise, he heard Sarah’s voice the second he opened the front door. She’d stayed up for him.

“You said you’d be home at nine,” Sarah grumbled, her lips pulling into a frown as Joel walked through the front door. Her eyes felt heavy but she had stayed awake this long, anticipating her father’s return. She wasn’t going to fall asleep now. Her determined mind stopped her from doing that. The young girl looked up at the wall clock above the television and her frown deepened. “It’s almost one in the mornin’.”

Joel removed his brown work jacket and brushed down his t-shirt before sliding out of his shoes and shuffling into the living room. The room was illuminated by the amber lantern on the coffee table. His gaze was immediately drawn to a little brown moth, hazily dancing around the lantern before settling down atop it. If he was in his usual teasing mood, he would have pointed the moth out to Sarah, knowing it would scare her, but instead, Joel just ignored the insect and slumped down onto the sofa. Joel spread his legs and leaned back, pulling out a yawn. What a day.

“I’m sorry kid,” Joel finally said, feeling a genuine sense of guilt. “Rough day. Bad traffic.”

At least that wasn’t a lie. The roads had been hectic, with people swerving chaotically and more sirens in the neighbourhood than Joel had ever heard. 

Sarah hummed knowingly. She’d been hearing the panic outside too, and the news broadcasts on the television had been secretly terrifying her to the point she couldn’t bear to watch. Something about an infection from Jakarta having sightings in the city. Not much was known about it, but Sarah was just glad she lived on the outskirts of Austin, Texas.

She’d be okay and so would her dad. 

That’s all that mattered.

“Sweetie, what are you still doing up? It is way past your bedtime.”

“Oh! But I got you something,” Sarah beamed and reached down the side of the sofa, bringing up a white box. Joel looked at Sarah with surprised eyes and held the weighty box in his hand.

He opened the box, not exactly sure what to expect from his fourteen-year-old daughter, only for it to be revealed that she had gotten his favourite watch fixed. The watch had been broken for quite some time and Joel, being the busy man that he was, never got the chance to fix it.

When Joel didn’t respond to the gift, Sarah interjected, feeling the need to explain herself. “You kept complaining about your broken watch so I figured…”

“I—honey, I love it but I think it’s broken,” Joel tapped the watch face and held it to his ear, checking to hear for its ticks. Sarah, in a panic, grabbed her dad’s wrist to inspect the watch for herself, only to see that it was working in perfect order.

“Oh ha ha.” Sarah mocked as her father snorted a chuckle.

“Where’d you get the money for this?” He inquired, quirking an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Drugs. I sell hardcore drugs.” Sarah joked with a smirk, pleased with herself for getting her dad a present that he truly liked.

“Oh good. You can help out with the mortgage then.” Joel countered and Sarah laughed, snuggling into her dad and resting her head on his lap.

“You wish.”

Joel turned on the television and despite it being late, settled on an old war movie to watch. Sarah hated those old black-and-white films, and it didn’t take her long to fall asleep. Taking his daughter in his arms, Joel picked up Sarah, carried her upstairs, and tucked her into bed. Placing a kiss on her forehead, Joel remembered just how lucky he was to have Sarah in his life. She kept him grounded—she kept him sane—and she gave him reason to keep going. 

By the time morning rolled around, Sarah was the first to wake up, as usual. Joel pressed snooze on his alarm three times, before his fourth and final alarm—being Sarah—came into his bedroom, opened up the curtains and let in the blinding golden sunlight which enveloped him. Joel winced as he felt the rays burn his skin, and turned over, putting a pillow over his head in frustration.

“Get up, dad,” Sarah announced. “It’s your birthday and I am making you special birthday pancakes.”

The pancakes were more so for Sarah, but her dad’s birthday was the best excuse to make them. She’d make rainbow funfetti pancakes with cream and syrup and strawberries. They were her all-time favourite breakfast. If he was lucky, she might have even stuck a candle in the top and sung ‘Happy Birthday’ to him.

That got Joel’s attention. “Birthday pancakes?”

“Be downstairs, dressed, in five minutes,” Sarah said before leaving her father’s bedroom.

Joel crawled out of his warm bed, the pancakes being the only motivation he had to actually get up, and pulled over the same navy blue t-shirt that he was wearing the day before. Buckling up the belt of his dark wash denim jeans, he shuffled down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“I don’t smell pancakes,” Joel frowned. “But I do smell coffee.”

Already preparing her father’s daily black espresso, Sarah sighed. “We don’t have any flour,” she replied, just as disappointed as he was. “You must’ve forgotten to pick it up. I guess you forgot the birthday cake too?”

“Damn it,” Joel huffed, realising that hopping to the grocery store yesterday must have completely slipped his mind. “That’s okay baby girl, I’ll make eggs.”

Eggs were fine, but they weren’t part of her convoluted plan to give her dad the best birthday imaginable. Sarah supposed that it would be okay and that the both of them were still able to spend the day together.

Sarah placed her dad’s coffee on the table. “Your shirt is inside out.”

The young girl helped her dad set the table and poured out some orange juice before taking her seat and eating her breakfast. After fixing his shirt, Joel sat down and turned on the television before digging at his eggs.

‘BREAKING NEWS: Cordyceps Brain Infection comes from contaminated food, spokesperson says. Total number of infected rises to 5000.’

“5,000?” Sarah repeated in disbelief. “Where is this infection spreading?”

“Jakarta,” Joel replied, stuffing a mouthful of bacon into his mouth. “Heard about it on the radio yesterday. Those poor people…”

“What kind of food is contaminated?” Sarah asked, to which Joel could only shrug in response.

“I don’t know honey, but don’t worry. We’re fine over here.”

Just as Joel and Sarah were finishing up their eggs and bacon, they overheard the front door swing open.

“Well well well, happy birthday old man,” Tommy Miller strolled into the kitchen with ease ruffling his older brother’s already messy bed hair playfully.

“Old man?” Joel countered, dropping his fork to the plate and acting mockingly offended.

“Old. Degenerate,” Tommy corrected and Sarah stifled a laugh. “Hey, I thought we were having birthday pancakes.”

“No flour.” Joel and Sarah replied simultaneously knowing that those two words offered enough of an explanation.

Tommy grumbled in dismay. “Well, in that case, I’ll see you guys later.”

When Tommy left, Sarah and Joel erupted into a fit of laughter. Tommy lived in the neighbourhood so it was often he would just pop in for a few minutes only to leave again. Now that he had the day off, Tommy would most likely spend his day in a bar playing pool, or hitting on girls that were way out of his league.

“No but seriously, what are we doing today?” Sarah asked, clearing her plate and heading over to the sink to wash her dishes.

“Well I got to pop out to the city for a little while. I promised an old friend I’d help her with a favour. You remember your old nanny?”

Sarah beamed at the memory of her. “Of course! Can I come with you?”

“No darling, I won’t be there long. She just wants me to take a look at her shower. She’s got a place up in Austin now.”

“Nice,” Sarah smiled. “She always did want to move to the city.”

“I should be back in time for dinner, and this time I’ll grab a birthday cake from the grocers,” Joel promised. Sarah offered him a hug.

“Okay daddy, do what you gotta do. I’ll see you later.”

The traffic was even worse than yesterday. The roads that led into the city were filled with people who were seemingly fleeing, all speeding in opposite directions. There was an accident on the quickest route so Joel found that he had to go through back alleys and side streets in order to get there as quickly and safely as possible. He didn’t understand why the roads were so hectic, and his mind was too preoccupied with the thought of seeing you again after so long.

Joel wasn’t sure whether or not he had done the right thing when it came to rejecting the new contracting job that was proposed by a local business, only to take on a free favour for the girl who used to babysit his daughter. You had done more than enough favours for the Miller family; having been there for Sarah ever since she was a little girl. If Joel had to be honest with himself; you were as much of an influence on Sarah as he could’ve hoped for. Being a young, single dad had its difficulties and Joel’s job often meant that he had to work long hours away from his daughter. As Sarah got older she understood why her dad would have to leave so early in the morning and come back so late at night. He was simply doing it to take care of her.

But when he wasn’t around, you were the reliable force that protected Sarah and watched over her during the day. You took her to kindergarten and later elementary school. You sat with her during the late evenings, helped with her homework and even cooked her dinner. Despite the ten-year age gap between you and Sarah, the two of you had become quite close, and according to Joel, you were simply a terrific girl; well-mannered and gentle. Your personality had an influence on Sarah, and Joel certainly couldn’t complain about that. He was so proud of his daughter. That’s why Joel was prepared to do this job as a favour to you, much to Tommy’s dismay.

Tommy being Tommy, always had something to complain about.

“This is un-fucking-believable. You got to earn a living Joel—and I do too. You sacrificed a legitimate job to help fix Sarah’s old nanny’s bathroom plumbing. And shit man, you ain’t even a plumber.” Tommy was midway ranting to Joel on the phone when he pulled up outside your apartment. After moving out of your family home, you found a place in central Austin, where you were living with your boyfriend. The commute to work was much easier now that you lived in the city. You’d scored a secretary job in a corporate office down on Congress Avenue. 

“We are doing fine for business,” Joel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. It was times like this when Joel would wonder about the fine line between love and tolerance. Tommy was never going to let his brother forget about this. “I just owe this girl some favours.”

“You just want to get in her pants.” Tommy snarked back, the vulgar words dripping from his tongue.

“And you better watch your mouth boy,” Joel warned, his tone darkening as he immediately found himself getting ticked off by his brother’s comment. Tommy was always one to jump to accusations. “Just a favour.” Joel reminded before promptly hanging up the call. 

Joel slid his cell into his jean pocket and took a deep breath. He hadn’t seen you in months. Not since you moved away. He felt his palms get just a little sweaty with nerves as he approached the front door to your building. Apartment number 13. After a brief moment of coaching himself, Joel pressed the button to buzz into your apartment.

“It’s me—Joel—uh, Miller—Joel Mil—” where were these nerves coming from?

“Come up!” your cheery voice interrupted him and he heard the electronic front door click open. Joel said a silent prayer hoping that you couldn’t sense his anxiety through the intercom. He had forgotten to take his medication that morning.

Noticing the elevator was out of order, Joel had no choice but to take the many flights of stairs that led up to your place. The walls in the hallway were painted a dingy brown and several cracks laced the webbed corners. When he got to your floor, he wiped away the beads of sweat that laced his hairline and noticed that the door to your apartment was already wide open, beckoning him to come in.

He lingered outside for a moment hesitantly, peeking around your front room; but you were nowhere in sight. He scratched the back of his neck before calling your name. It would be rude to just enter your apartment without you knowing. 

When there was no response, Joel called your name again. He proceeded to take a step into your apartment and shut the door behind him. It was very small; just a sofa and a small TV and a bookshelf in the corner. Your kitchen was adjoined to your living room, and there were only two rooms towards the back. He assumed one must have been your bedroom, and the other… he heard a rush of water running. The bathroom.

The door was shut and Joel took a few steps, calling your name as he got closer and closer to the bathroom.

“I’m in here!” you called back. “Uh—you can come in—but please don’t laugh.”

Joel quirked his eyebrow as he pondered what could be beyond the door. He slowly reached down to the door handle. 

“Are ‘ya… are you decent?” Joel asked awkwardly, noting that the shower was still running.

Another moment of silence before your timid voice responded. “…I suppose…” 

Joel pushed down on the bronze door handle and let himself into the bathroom, only to be enveloped by warm, thick, humid air coming from the running shower. His immediate response was to choke back a cough as he squinted his eyes, trying to navigate where exactly you were hiding. You were behind the fogged-up shower glass, on your knees and sopping wet. You made no effort to remove yourself from the running water, even when Joel had already entered the room. You were adamant you could get this fixed yourself.

“Damn it!” you cursed loudly, finally withdrawing yourself from the shower and crawling out of the bathtub. You were never one to give up easily, but meddling with this shower was like fighting a losing battle.

You looked up at Joel whose large hand was covering the smirk that grazed his lips. He was trying so hard not to laugh at you. His broad shoulders were adorned by a brown jacket and his dark locks of hair seemed to be adorned with just a few grey specks—and hell, if he wasn’t staring at you with the utmost judgement—you might have even considered just how attractive he looked.

“You good?” Joel chuckled, the corners of his chocolate eyes creasing with elation. You stood up to meet his level, ignoring the fact your t-shirt was now stuck to your skin and water droplets were falling from your hair.

“Do I look good?” you snarked back, narrowing your eyes.

“Well—” Joel raised an eyebrow, eyeing you up and down. You felt your cheeks heat up under his gaze and you sheepishly looked down at your feet, hoping he wouldn’t catch your earnest reaction. “What happened?”

“Thought I could be all big and clever and try and fix this damn shower by myself,” you admitted, feeling silly for even giving it a try. “Thought that if I fixed it, I wouldn’t have had to waste your time.”

“Ah,” Joel nodded, stepping aside from you and hesitantly approaching the shower. A few stray streams of water jumped out at him. “You ain't ever wasting my time.”

You fiddled with your thumbs as Joel pulled out a wrench from his back pocket. Without hesitating, he stepped under the hot water and began to adjust the shower faucet, tightening the metal valve located under the head of the shower. The wrench kept slipping however and Joel ended up placing it on the side of the tub, opting to use his strength to tighten the valve. You watched as his grip tightened against the faucet controls, his biceps flexing as he let out a quiet grunt. The main flow of water came to a halt and the condensation in the room began to slowly fizzle away. Small drips of water fell from the leaky showerhead, but for the most part, Joel fixed your problem in just a matter of minutes.

Scratching the back of his neck, Joel ran his finger down one of the pipes that joint into the valve. “You might need to get your pipes checked, could be rust or—”

“Fungus,” you cut him off. “It’s gross, I know, but a neighbour was telling me she had the same problem with the faucet in her kitchen. Damn water wouldn’t stop running. She had some guys come around and they found this gross, fungus-type thing growing in the pipes.”

Joel made no effort to hide the disgusted look on his face. 

You sighed, knowing you’d have to call a plumber over to investigate your shower further. You really didn’t need the extra expense right now. But then you remembered just how grateful you were that Joel travelled all this way to do you the favour of fixing your shower—even if it was a temporary solution. You walked over to the man and gently interlinked your fingers with his, your cautious movements taking Joel by surprise. 

“Come on,” you said softly. “It’s slippery. Let me help you out of the tub.” You noted how your hand fit in his. It was much smaller, and even though you wanted him to hold onto you for support, it felt more like you were holding onto him.

Joel graciously took a step out of the tub, and you realised he didn’t need to hold onto you whatsoever. You took a towel from the radiator and wrapped it around his shoulders; a pathetic attempt at getting him dry.

“I should’ve brought a change of clothes.” he huffed, running his now empty hand through his short hair.

“I have something that might fit,” you smiled. “I mean—not my clothes of course, but my boyfriend, Michael… well, he’s probably the same size as you.”

Boyfriend?

It took a second for Joel to register the word. For some reason, he’d made the assumption you didn’t have a boyfriend. But then again, it had been a while since he last saw you, and now you lived in the city with your corporate job and your brand-new life. Just when Joel thought he knew everything about you, he realised that there was now so much more for him to learn. He followed you into your small, box-shaped bedroom and into the closet.

You searched through a pile of clean laundry that was mixed with both yours and Michael’s clothes. 

“If you see anything you like, just take it. Michael won’t mind.” You offered.

Despite your assurance, Joel reluctantly knelt and searched through the pile of clothes. Amongst your many shirts, pants and colourful pyjamas, Joel finally found a light grey sweater and a pair of matching sweatpants to wear. As he pulled them out from under the pile, he couldn’t help but notice a lace lingerie set that was placed delicately underneath. Deliberately, at the bottom of the pile. His eyes were drawn to the piece and his grip on the grey fabric tightened as he imagined you wearing the set. The thoughts invaded his mind without choice and Joel cursed himself for not fighting them away.

He finally stood up and turned to face you, only to immediately retract back when he saw you pull off your t-shirt. Catching a glimpse of your bare back, Joel swallowed the lump in his throat and turned to face the poorly painted wall behind him, not wanting you to feel uncomfortable upon you discovering that he had seen you like that.

You had in fact told him that you were going to change out of your wet clothes too—around about the same time he noticed your lingerie. He was just too distracted to have heard.

Dropping your soaking wet jeans to the floor and letting them pool around your ankles, you pulled up your favourite, fleece-lined black leggings and wrapped your wet hair into a towel. Now dry and cosy, you turned back around to Joel who was staring at the concrete wall, waiting patiently for you to have finished.

“Joel?” you asked.

“Y—yeah?” Joel stuttered, clutching onto the sweats. 

“You found something to wear?”

“Yeah.” Joel confirmed, smiling softly and showing you the grey sweats that he had picked out, almost as if he was asking permission—again—as to whether or not he could take them. 

He was such a sweetheart.

“Perfect,” you returned his smile. “You can get changed in here. I’m going to head into the kitchen.”

Before Joel could reply, you left your bedroom and gently closed the door behind you, allowing Joel to get changed in privacy.

You opened up the refrigerator and took out a batch of chocolate chip cookies that you’d baked the night before. Heating them up in the microwave, you prepared them neatly on a plate and placed them down atop the small table that segregated your kitchen from your living room.  Just as you were finishing up presenting the cookies, Joel exited your bedroom and you felt your heart blossom in your chest when you caught sight of him.

You were so used to seeing Michael wear those same grey sweats all the time, you hadn’t even prepared yourself for how they’d look on Joel. For the same garments, you’d imagine they would look identical—but you couldn’t have been more wrong. They fit on Joel’s body like a glove and tugged on him in all the right places. The light colour highlighted his slender waist and broad shoulders, and the way the waistband around his sweatpants was just ever so slack…

Joel cleared his throat and you felt your cheeks heat up as you snapped out of your daydream. 

“Looks good,” You nodded your head with positive affirmation and then your eyes quickly darted to the cookies on the table behind you. “Cookies!” you announced, happy to have found a reason to change the subject. Joel shuffled towards you and eyed up the plate of cookies.

“Oh wow—chocolate chip?” Joel smiled. “Those are my favourite.”

“Sarah’s too,” you beamed. “I remembered. Would you like to try one?”

“I—I would love too,” Joel grinned and extended his arm over to the plate. But then he abruptly stopped himself. “But—ah, I’m on Atkins. And I’m doing so well…”

“What’s that?”

“Oh,” Joel grumbled. “Just this dumb diet thing. I’ve basically been cutting out carbs. Lasted nearly two weeks so far.” 

Your frown deepened at his admittance. “That doesn’t sound healthy…” 

“No, well, neither is this.” Joel prodded his tummy. 

You wanted to tell him not to diet—that he didn’t need to. That his body was damn well gorgeous just the way it was.

But you didn’t want to overstep any boundaries.

“Take them home for Sarah?” you offered.

“She’d love that,” Joel smiled and inched towards you. There was barely any distance separating you both now, and you couldn’t recall a time when you had been this close to one another. “Thank you.” His words were so genuine, so real, that they sparked butterflies in the pit of your tummy and you held back a smile. You held it back because, without any restraint, you’d be grinning like an excited little girl. 

“How is Sarah?” you asked, looking up at Joel.

If you took just one step forward, your chest would be touching his. 

“She’s good,” his voice had lowered an octave and that Southern twang in his accent became all the more prominent. “I’m sure she’d like to see you. You should come over sometime for movie night.”

“I—I would love that,” you admitted. Movie night with Joel and Sarah… just like the old days.

“She’s really into those horror movies now she’s getting older…” 

It was like some kind of mystic energy was pulling you both closer to each other. It wasn’t conscious, and the movements were small, but as your bodies got closer together you noticed the way Joel’s voice trailed off into eventual complete silence. And then, like magic, the curve of his nose bumped into yours and you let out a small giggle. The proximity of each other felt so intimate and yet you couldn’t bear to draw away from him. You wanted him to touch you, hold you, bump noses with you again… 

Joel’s eyes became dark and lust-filled as his gaze flicked down towards your mouth. Your eye line followed his and you observed his pretty pink lips that were framed by his moustache, all the same. You both wanted the same thing.  He wanted to kiss you, softly and delicately—and he wanted to cradle your face as he relished the moment. And equally, you wondered what it would be like to kiss him, if his light stubble would graze your skin or if it would tickle you and make you erupt into a fit of giggles. You wondered if his hair would be rough and brassy or soft and fluffy. 

You cautiously extended your arms and placed both your hands into his still-damp hair, threading your fingers through the roots to the tips. As a response, Joel closed his eyes and hummed in contentment, the vibrations in his chest sending chills through your own body. His own hands swung down to your hips and he bravely pulled you in closer to him. 

Joel opened his eyes and brought one hand up to your shoulder and then gently cupped the side of your cheek. You leaned into his palm and he swept his thumb over your bottom lip. Bumping noses with you again, this time he did not draw back. You could feel his breath fan over your lips and you pushed your chest into him and opened your mouth when---

Ring.    Ring.    Ring.    

The alert of Joel’s ringtone made him jolt back from you and stumble even a few steps further. You stood there, as still as could be, your brain desperately trying to piece together what just happened. 

You almost kissed Joel Miller.

“Shit, it’s Tommy,” Joel explained. “I should take this.”

Breathlessly, you nodded, and all Joel could do was shoot you an apologetic look before flipping open his phone and holding it to his ear.

“Joel—Joel—I need you to come to pick me up. I’m in jail.” A brief moment of static buzzed through the line but Joel heard Tommy loud and clear. He wished he had misheard.

“You what—” Joel placed a hand on his hip, taking a second to process his little brother’s words. “Why the hell are you in jail, Tommy? What did you do?”

Your eyes widened when you heard what was going on. Tommy in trouble?

“I—it wasn’t my fault—”

“It never is,” Joel grimaced.

“I was at Linkin’s Bar down by the Creek and some guy just started attackin’ Isabella. Grabbed a hold of her and wouldn’t let go… so I smashed a bottle in his face. Knocked him to the ground. That showed the fucker.”

“Jesus Christ Tommy,” Joel sighed.

“You’d do the same,” Tommy called out. “Isabella’s only small, and she couldn’t defend herself. Anyway—I need you to come to the County Jail and bail me out. I’ll pay you back, I promise. I just can’t stand to spend another moment in here.”

“Alright, I’m on my way, but I’m in Austin. Will take me a while to drive back up that way.”

“Just get here quick,” Tommy practically begged. “I—I think there’s something wrong with the officer. He keeps twitchin’ all funny. People have been acting weird, Joel.”

Joel shook his head and let out a deep sigh. “Whatever Tommy, I’m on my way.”

As soon as Joel put his cell back in his pocket, you placed a caring hand on his forearm. “Is Tommy okay?”

“He’s always getting into trouble, that boy.” Joel sighed. 

“You take care of your brother. You’re a good guy,” you said softly. “Maybe… maybe we can plan that movie night for tomorrow, huh? I get off work at five.”

Joel smiled. A good guy. That was all he wanted to be. And making plans for movie night with Sarah? Joel felt a buzz in his chest. She would love to see you again. “That sounds good.” He said casually, trying to hide the fact he was beaming inside. 

“Alright,” you returned his smile and then nudged his side playfully. “I’ll see you tomorrow then. And I’ll bring the cookies.”

“See ‘ya.” 

Joel turned around and left the apartment without another word and you stood there, your heart racing, still reeling from what had happened just minutes prior. You’d hardly lost track of time when Michael came through the front door. 

“Hey, who was that guy I just saw leaving? He kinda looked like me.”

Michael wished he looked like Joel, but you assumed that remark was made in reference to the outfit that Joel had ‘borrowed’.

“I—” immediately you felt defensive. Not that you needed to be, because technically, nothing happened. Was there any need to be defensive over mere feelings? “It was the plumber.”

“Oh. He fixed the shower?” Michael asked, stealing a cookie from the batch you had baked. 

“Yeah—hey! Don’t eat those. They aren’t for you.” You warned, but Michael was already swallowing his first piece.

“Huh?” Michael chortled. “It’s not like you need to eat them, looks like you’ve eaten enough already.” He said with a snide look. 

You felt your jaw slacken slightly at the comment and resisted the urge to tell him exactly just who this ‘plumber’ guy was, and how much you wished you had kissed him in that heat of the moment. 

You didn’t respond but instead watched Michael eat two more cookies. Your lips curled into a frown, knowing you’d have to bake another batch, but at least this time they would be fresh for tomorrow’s movie night. 

For the first time in weeks, Joel felt he was finally able to relax. He took the drive home slow and steady and turned up the car radio to drown out the ongoing sirens in the distance. The song ‘Future Days’ by Pearl Jam played, and Joel decided he would take up learning it on the guitar when he got home. Now that he had a few days off from work, he could put his feet up and do whatever he wanted. He looked forward to seeing you tomorrow, but now he just had to head on to the grocers, like he had promised Sarah, and pick out a birthday cake.

He found a red velvet one with buttercream icing, knowing it was more Sarah’s favourite than his own. Joel liked fruitcake but he knew that if he brought a fruitcake home for Sarah, she’d just sit there disgusted and pick out the raisins. He’d rather she was satisfied.

Joel brought the red velvet cake to the cashier and opened up his wallet, preparing to pay.

“I’m sorry sir,” the lady behind the desk said. “I can’t sell you this. I’m afraid all wheat-based products are being recalled due to the Cordyceps Brain Infection.”

Joel furrowed his eyebrows together in bewilderment. “The Cordyceps--? I thought that was all the way in Jakarta?”

“You haven’t heard--?”

Just then, alarms began ringing in the grocery store and an automated voice boomed through the speakers. The cashier froze and her eyes widened as soon as she recognised the voice. “This is an automated message. This is a red alert warning from the United States government and the CISA. Please stop what you are doing and return home immediately. Lock your doors. Do not let anyone inside.”

The message repeated repeatedly, and the entire store erupted into a panic; including the cashier standing before Joel. 

“What the hell is happening?” Joel asked, his gaze darting around the store. He watched a stampede of people head towards the fire exit, clambering and yelling frantically.

“You have to go.” The cashier replied before running off into the crowd.

Joel headed towards the entrance, thinking he could leave that way where it was less crowded. He had no comprehension of what was happening, but he knew for certain he wouldn’t leave Tommy behind.

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

Prologue: Part II

#Joel miller #Pedro pascal #Pedro pascal x reader #Joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #smut

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

hello can you do a xavier thorpe with midnight rain ?please

This has been in my drafts for so long and I did not plan for this to be over 2.7k, but here we are. Midnight rain is one of my favorite on Midnights so I couldn't not write this

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You've dreamt of writing novels since you could hold a pen.

At nine years old, you wrote your first short story, a dark mystery starring you and your sister Wednesday. Your English teacher was both impressed and horrified when she read it. She sent it to a writing contest for young writers, believing your writing skills deserved to be read by bigger names, but the judges preferred a tooth-rotting romance written by a typical American sweetheart.

You never stopped writing. On the contrary, you were spending more time with your typewriter, perfecting your storytelling and expanding your vocabulary. Those judges were too narrow minded and weak stomached to appreciate your writing.

At eleven years old, you met Stephen King at a book release event. You were the youngest in line and may or may not have skipped school in order to meet him. Sorry, Mrs. Jackson, but Stephen King was of greater importance than your lecture on World War I. You got him to sign your favorite book and dropped a folder with your name on the cover. The horror writer was confused, thinking it was something else you wanted him to sign — it wasn't.

''It's my first novel. I would like you to read it.''

His opinion mattered more to you than those judges from the young writers contest.

Wednesday, the ever so pessimist, kept telling you he would toss your novel in the trash and move on with his day, but a few weeks later, you received a handwritten letter from the man himself. He had read your short story. He called it macabre and at times disturbing, which was a praise coming from him.

Ten years later, you were standing in the very same bookstore you met Stephen King. But this time, you were the one sitting behind the table and signing books.

It felt surreal seeing your name on a book cover.

The New York Times listed you as one of the promising authors under the age of thirty, which made the sales of your novel go up.

You were getting ready for your signing, making sure you had enough pens and that your dark lipstick was not on your teeth when Eleanor, your personal assistant for this book tour, came up to you holding a bouquet of flowers.

''These were sent to you, Ms. Addams,'' she said, placing the bouquet of black dahlias on the table.

You looked at it in confusion. ''Who are they coming from?''

''They aren't addressed to me, I legally cannot check.''

You nodded in understanding and sent her off. Whoever had sent these knew your favorite flowers. Most assumed it was black roses, but you preferred dahlias — like the murder.

You took the small card attached to the bouquet and read it.

Congrats on the novel. I knew you were gonna make it.

X.

A rush of emotions swarmed through you. You had recognized the handwriting, the perfect calligraphy of the boy who once owned your heart.

Sometimes, you catch yourself wondering what your life would be like if you hadn't broken his heart during your last year at Nevermore. You would be lying to say you didn't miss him. Xavier was more than a teenage romance. He was the love of your life, but your and Xavier's vision of the future, life after Nevermore Academy, didn't align. He wanted a comfortable life, away from the spotlights. You wanted the world to know your name.

You tried to make the relationship work, you really did. You thought you could do it, true love can get through the hardest ships, but you started focusing on your writing more and more, and lessening the time you spent with Xavier. He was understanding, knowing how important writing was to you. Sleepovers became less frequent as your nights were spent with your typewriter, weekly dates turned into monthly dates, and the 'I miss you's outnumbered the 'I love you's.

This wasn't fair to Xavier. He deserved someone who wasn't always going to make him second in her priorities. You had always been driven by a greed to succeed, the desire to accomplish your dreams. Love had come to you when you least expected it. It had never been part of your life-plan.

With a heavy heart, you found yourself turning the page on a relationship you thought would last your lifetime, because when you love someone, sometimes you need to let them go. Even if it hurts.

''Madelaine is asking when we'll begin,'' your assistant asked, pulling you out of your mind.

You shifted your eyes away from the card, hiding it in the pocket of your trousers.

Eleanor averted her gaze from you, turning to the beautiful flower instead. She was curious of their provenance, but knew it was none of her business. ''Eh, sorry. I didn't want to interrupt—''

''What is it?'' Your tone was a little rude, but you didn't get to apologize.

''There's a line outside that extends to the café and the owner is complaining that it's blocking the way and interfering with his business. Madelaine is asking when we'll begin.''

You glanced at the large clock on the wall. ''I'm meeting Wednesday and Enid for lunch at 1pm. I need to be finished by then.''

Eleanor nodded. ''I'll tell Madelaine to let the people in, then.'' She gave you a smile, then walked away.

*

After having dinner with Enid and Wednesday, you returned to your hotel. On the walk there, your heart jumped in your chest when you saw a tall man with his hair tied into a bun waiting to cross the street. Your mind immediately made the connection, the piece of paper in your picked feeling suddenly heavier.

According to Wednesday, Xavier lived in New York. He bought a loft somewhere in Greenwich Village and displays his paintings in a gallery. She and Enid had attended his last exposition a few months back.

It made you happy to know his paintings were displayed in a gallery. You always knew he was talented and could make a living off his art. You wondered what his paintings looked like. He must have improved since high school. Was he still using his nightmares as inspiration? Had he moved on to a more abstract style? Did he still have that painting of you?

Your questions remained unanswered, having reached your hotel.

Eleanor must have come into your room after the signing because the black dahlias were placed on the table along with the few small gifts you had received from your readers. You removed your coat and walked up to the flowers, a feeling of nostalgia filling your heart.

The first time Xavier got you black dahlias was on Valentine's day. While everyone got their significant other roses, he got you a black dahlia. The special attention had touched you. You had only mentioned once that they were your favorite. It was at his shed and he was painting. You thought he wasn't listening to you, but he was. He always listened.

You gave one last lingering glance to the black dahlias on the table, then called your mother through your crystal ball. A phone would have been more practical, but you weren't a big fan of technology.

Shortly after summoning her, Morticia appeared through the crystal ball. ''You look tormented, my little stormcloud.''

You couldn't hide anything from her.

Before you told her anything, she noticed the flowers behind you and immediately understood the provenance of your torments. Fortunately for you, heart matters were Morticia's favorite. She had a preference for those involving cursing a lover who did you wrong, but she was still very pleased to be of help.

''What's stopping you from reaching out to him?''

Flashes of Xavier's teary eyes haunted your thoughts as guilt and regret filled your guts. ''I broke his heart, Mother. I cannot show up at his apartment.''

''If he is the love of your life, why not give it a shot? Love makes us forgive the heaviest mistakes, my darling.'' Morticia paused, thinking about her own past mistakes. ''Besides, he sent you flowers, didn't he?''

*

The cab ride to Greenwich village felt interminable. You almost told the chauffeur to turn around fifteen times, but when would you be in New York again? This was your chance.

The car stopped in front of Xavier's building. It was tall and most lights were out. Maybe he was asleep? Xavier has always been a night owl, the chances he was asleep at this hour were very slim.

You paid the driver and took the stairs, your heart hammering behind your chest as you got closer to Xavier's door. You paused before knocking, deciding to use the secret knock you and Xavier used at Nevermore when sneaking in each other's dorms. It's been a few years, but you hoped he remembered.

The door opened and you momentarily forgot how to breathe. His green eyes looked down at you and an army of spiders swarmed your stomach, making you feel like a teenage girl.

Xavier stepped back to let you inside, then closed the door, plunging you in the silence of the apartment.

''You don't seem surprised to see me.''

He casted his eyes down and shook his head gently. ''I had a dream about you last night,'' Xavier explained, shifting his gaze back to you. ''You were here, standing by the large window of my apartment, looking absolutely stunning by the moonglow.''

You crossed the large room, your shoes clicking on the wood floors, and stood by the window adorning the street, trying to recreate Xavier's dream picture-perfectly. ''Like this?''

A soft smile spread on your old flame's face.

''I didn't know if it was my mind playing and trying to hurt me or if it was premonitory,'' he said as he walked over to you, his pace slow and calculated.

The moonglow hit his face, making his beautiful eyes glisten.

You wanted to kiss him.

Shaking that thought from your head, you cleared your throat. ''Thank you for the flowers. They're beautiful.''

''I saw a poster with your face at the bookstore last week saying you would be having a signing. I wanted to come, but I didn't know if you would have wanted to see me...'' He got closer to the window, watching the city under.

''I always want to see you, Xavier.''

He scoffed, an ache in his heart. ''That's not what you said a few years ago.'' The wound was old, but it had never healed completely.

Guilt and regret swarmed your guts. You wanted to apologize, but no 'sorry' would be enough to amount how much you regretted those words. You had lied to him, right to his face, that night. You had watched his green eyes fill with tears as his heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

''Would you have thought of me today had I not sent you flowers?''

''Yes,'' you replied with no hesitation. ''Just because I'm a published writer doesn't mean I've forgotten about my past — our past.''

Shaking off the flashes of the past, Xavier blinked back his tears and tightened his jaw to camouflage his emotions. ''Why are you here, Y/N?''

The question was simple, yet you didn't know what to answer. You couldn't exactly blurt out 'because I still love you'. Although it was the truth, you knew this would not work with Xavier. You broke his heart and if you wanted him to let you have it again, you'll have to mend the pieces.

''I want to fix the past.'’

It was naive and silly to say, but you couldn't find anything better.

You continued. ‘’When we’re young, we think we know everything — we don’t. Decisions we think are right at the time sometimes are not and we only realize so when we grow up. I made a tremendous mistake when ending things with you, Xavier. I’m genuinely so sorry for all the hurt I inflicted upon you that night and all the ones that followed.’’

Xavier glanced at you for half a second, then looked away again.

‘’I wish I could say I wish I never pushed you away, but I can’t. If I hadn’t, I would never have realized how important you are to me. How I miss the deep connection we shared, the way we understood each other without words and having someone to share my greatest achievements with. I miss our late nights together, me writing or reading and you painting. I miss Sunday mornings at your dorm and seeing your sleepyhead beside me—’’

‘’Just because you miss these moments doesn’t mean anything. We all miss things from the past, it’s called nostalgia.’’

‘’I know what nostalgia is, and this ain’t it!’’

Frustration was beginning to build inside you and you were starting to think you were fighting for a love that was too far gone. A flame that had been killed and would never ignite again.

Tears welled in your eyes, but you blinked them away.

‘’Back then, I believed my career was the most important thing. I thought if I made it and became a writer, I would feel fulfilled, but all this time I’ve been away from you made me realize that love is important too. What’s the point of living my dream if the person I want to share it with is not there by my side?’’

When you got the email from a publishing house saying they loved your novel and wanted to publish it, Xavier was the first person you wanted to call and tell your big news to. Your finger had hovered over his name on your phone for several minutes.

Instead, you had called your mother.

‘’When you're young, we make mistakes we thought were right at the time. When you grow up, you realize and come back to what you need. We’ve accepted that our lives grew apart, but what if I don't want our lives to grow apart? What if I want them to meet in the middle?’’

‘’Do you know how different our lives are, Y/N? I live in New York and you…I don’t know where you’re currently living. How are they supposed to meet in the middle?’’

‘’We make them meet in the middle,’’ you answered simply.

‘’We’ve tried that before.’’ Xavier scoffed, shifting his body toward the window. He could see your reflection in the glass, but tried to ignore it and focus on the street below. ‘’It didn’t work.’’

‘’We didn’t try hard enough.’’

The room was filled with a mixture of longing and uncertainty as your words were left pending. Xavier's skepticism was evident, his doubts stemming from the geographical distance that seemed to separate your lives and the flashes of the past. A part of him wanted to jump in and take a chance, but another reminded him of the tough heartbreak he went through when you broke up.

‘’I’m ready to give my all into this relationship, if you’re willing to give us another chance. New Jersey is not that far from New York. I…I could move here! I have a computer now, we could video-call. Or you could come spend a few days at the Addams manor?’’

Xavier turned his gaze from the window to meet your eyes. Like your sister, you had always been reluctant to submit to technology. He was surprised that you owned a computer. ‘’It’s called Facetime.’’

You drew your eyebrows together. ‘’What?’’

Xavier couldn't help but chuckle at your response. ‘’Video-calling,’’ he mocked. ‘’It’s called Facetime.’’

Right. Facetime. Enid had told you many times.

You rolled your eyes. ‘’Excuse me for not being a slave to technology for as long as you,’’ you retorted, turning the teasing around.

Accepting defeat, Xavier then shifted back to seriousness. ‘’You really think we can do this?’’ he asked, his voice tinged with a mix of hope and uncertainty.

You took a few strides toward him, raising your eyes to meet his. ‘’If we put our hearts in it.’’ You took his hand in yours, holding it with both hands.

A moment of silence enveloped the room as your words hung in the air. You were trying to be optimistic, but the longer the silence was getting, the less optimistic you were. He was going to push you away...

His green eyes shifted from your hands, distracting himself with the dainty rings on your fingers. You still had the one he gave you for your fifteenth birthday. You were just friends back then, so it didn’t have anything romantic tied to it.

‘’Okay.’’ He covered your hands with his other one, making you look up at him.

‘’Okay?’’ you repeated, making sure you had heard correctly.

Xavier nodded. ‘’Just…don’t break my heart again. Please.’’

You couldn't make that promise. ''I'll try,'' you said instead. ‘’And if you break mine?’’

‘’We’ll say we’re even.’’

—

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#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe x you #wednesday imagine #wednesday #wednesday netflix #xavier thorpe x addams!reader

[eoieopda]

the one with seokjin, soju, and all the stars in the sky

Requested by Anon: Kim Seokjin got really drunk on a members-night-out, so his fiancée has to pick his cute, clingy ass up. ft. late-night wake-ups, gn!reader, and a lot of feelings about science. A/N: I accidentally deleted the draft associated with this ask, so now it's a separate post. Sorry for the wait, anon!

When Seokjin left for the evening, he'd placed a kiss on your forehead and a new book in your hands.

The novel in question was some obscure, independently published thing Namjoon had recommended. You'd mentioned it to Seokjin in passing — weeks ago — but hadn't had the downtime to seek it out since. Even if you had somehow carved out a moment to scour the local bookshops, you wouldn't have had the spare hours to immerse yourself in it the way you'd want to.

Not enough to meaningfully discuss its themes with Namjoon, anyway.

But Seokjin was Seokjin. He'd made some secret, mental note about what you said; hunted down that old single-edition book; and come up with a reason to spend his Saturday night elsewhere. He and his friends would get dinner and drinks — you'd get an overdue bubble bath and the solitude necessary to study for your unofficial, impromptu, two-member book club.

And that's precisely how you'd spent your night before tucking yourself into bed at the beautifully reasonable hour of half-past nine.

When your phone went off four hours later, you thought you were dreaming. You squinted at the screen for so long, trying to wrap your brain around the contact information blaring into your bleary eyes, that you almost failed to answer.

"Namjoon?" You croaked, throwing an arm over your eyes to hide from the offensive lamp light beaming off your bedside table. "I'm gonna need, like, a liter of coffee before I can wax poetic about the —"

"Hey, noona, it's Namjoon-ah!" He cut you off before you could finish. If the delayed, rhyming introduction didn't tip you off, the snorting, self-inflicted laughter would have.

Kim Namjoon, the designated dad of the friend group, was irrefutably ripped, zipped, and zooted.

You scrubbed your hand over your face in a futile attempt to stop your forming grin in its tracks. "Your picture popping up on my phone told me as much," You chuckled through your exhaustion, "To what do I owe the pleasure of this wake-up call?"

You heard him shout geonbae and gulp down some sort of shot before he provided you with an answer.

"Sojin has entered the chat," He announced with an absurd, deepened voice. Immediately, he cackled, "Get it? It's a portmanteau of soju and Seokjin, who is shitfaced — anyways, can you come get your man?"

It took you five minutes to throw on clothes and shuffle out the door to your car. The drive to the bar took only slightly longer, though it was the traffic lights and not the distance that slowed you down.

Unfortunately, twenty years came and went while you tackled the dreaded, subsequent task: parallel fucking parking.

The stress of it all nearly had you sweating by the time you entered the bar — you'd be hearing all that judgmental honking in your sleep, once you got back to it — but it all evaporated the second you saw Seokjin.

Off in the far corner, he sat on the outer half of a bench. Trapped inside that booth, visibly waiting for the sweet release of death, was Min Yoongi. You couldn't make out the details of that predominantly one-sided conversation, but you could tell by Seokjin's wild gesticulating and pink-tipped ears that he was ranting about something.

Bits and pieces fell into place as you made your away over, but no part of the overheard conversation made much sense to you.

Seokjin hiccupped, "I've said it once and I'll s-say it again —"

"— Hyung, I guarantee you've said it way more than once —" Yoongi attempted to interject, but he was quickly silenced by more of Seokjin's animated hand-waving.

"— Magic. It's magic, Yoongi. I'm tell — I'm telling you, man. There's just — hic — Science is stupid. I don't care about it, you know? And do you want — you wanna know why, Yoongi? Well, I'll t-tell you why —"

As he blinked emphatically at Yoongi, Seokjin must've somehow sensed you across the bar. He stopped dead in the middle of his unsolicited dissertation, wide-eyed with his jaw dropped, and gasped, "Baby!"

Before you could physically brace yourself for impact, he'd launched his clumsy frame out of his seat and collected you in his arms. Within seconds, without time to blink, his warm cheek was smushed against yours. Plush lips fluttered near your ear as he mumbled, "I missed you."

Of course, it'd only been a few hours since he last saw you, but he held you like you'd just returned from years at sea. Breathing deeply and contentedly, likely taking in the scent of your shampoo. Gently clutching the fabric of your jacket in his hands as if you'd float away otherwise. You had no desire whatsoever to burst that perfect, loving bubble, so you simply squeezed him tighter and told him that you'd missed him more.

Over his shoulder, you saw relief wash over Yoongi's face. No longer held hostage, he scooted himself out of the booth and immediately twisted in place to crack his back.

How long had he been stuck in there?

"Thank fuck," Yoongi sighed as he proceeded to crack his neck. He rolled his shoulders while answered the question you were about to ask, "Twenty entire minutes. Barely paused long enough to breathe, so I thought, shit — what if he dies here? I was scared I'd have to spend the rest of my days in this booth."

Seokjin, who still hadn't untangled himself from you, simply giggled. With his cheek remaining flush to yours, you could feel him grinning. He offered nothing whatsoever in his own defense, so Yoongi waved at you and turned to head off towards the restrooms.

You called out after him, prompting him to turn around. "What's so stupid about science?"

Yoongi's mouth stretched into a straight line across the entire bottom half of his face; his eyes narrowed to match. He heaved yet another sigh, gestured languidly to the half-cut fiancée clinging to you like a vest, and smirked, "He's convinced you hung the stars in the sky."

You would've melted into a puddle on the spot, but then Seokjin piped up and promptly shot your unsuspecting, lovestruck heart over the moon instead.

Abruptly changing the subject, he whispered — suddenly serious, as if it was the most important question in the world:

"Did you like the book, baby?"

#jade's requests #jade's drabbles #jin drabble #anon #bts #kim seokjin #seokjin #bts jin #bts drabble #bts fluff #seokjin drabble #seokjin fluff #seokjin x reader #seokjin x y/n #seokjin x you #jin x reader #jin x you #jin x y/n #jin fluff #kim seokjin fluff #kim seokjin x reader #kim seokjin x you #kim seokjin x y/n #ksj #bts imagine #bts scenarios #seokjin imagine #seokjin scenarios #jin imagine #jin scenarios

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Shifting Wings: Chapter Fourteen

Shifting Wings: Before the Raven Matthew, there was Jessamy, and Jessamy came with a little sister by the name of Adrienne. Dream adores his two little Ravens, but after over a hundred years of imprisonment and the death of Jessamy, Dream will find that he has not just lost his companion, but his beloved little Raven Adrienne no longer brightens the halls of his Palace. None of his staff wish to speak of where the Raven has gone, but the silent new resident of the palace is cause for question. After all, she was the one who aided in his release. If none of his subjects would help him find Adrienne, perhaps she could lead him to the whereabouts of the missing Raven. If only the woman wasn’t so flighty and hard to track down.

Warnings: Angst.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x FemaleRaven!Reader, NAMED Reader (I like the name).

Word Count: ~2.5k

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You felt lost. A far cry from the overwhelming tsunami of emotions you had been bombarded after waking up. You weren’t supposed to feel emotions. You weren’t supposed to feel this deep rooted pain within your heart. Within your soul. You had gotten rid of those hindering irritations on purpose. Traded them away for legs and the ability to find your lord and master. Blanche had protected you, had protected you well. But now she was gone. Something had happened to her and you knew it wasn’t good.

Looking down at your fingers, you wiggled them slowly, wondering why they looked so familiar, yet felt so strange. No, your entire body felt strange. It wasn’t the one you were used to living in. You couldn’t feel the airiness that came with being part raven, you didn’t feel the urge to hide away in your closet. Nest. The raven in you was gone, and you didn’t like that.

You tried to shift into your bird form, shifting into your beautiful midnight and pearl feathered body… but no matter how long you tried to, you remained stuck with two legs and two arms. You felt like you couldn’t escape from the broiling emotions within your form that subtly ate away at your sanity.

Abruptly standing from where you had been sitting on the edge of your bed, you held your bedsheet around your naked body and walked for the door to your studio. What was once your haven now felt like a jail cell, smothering you until you felt like you could barely breathe. You skirted out of the room, not bothering to shut the door behind you and hurried in the direction of an exit.

If any of those that saw you walking urgently through the palace halls, they didn’t stop you or try to attempt conversation. That you were glad for. The outdoor air felt nice on your skin, cooling, relieving even. You paused at the crossroads of a path that led to several different gardens. You wanted to flee to the garden you loved the most, the one you and Jessamy had spent countless hours perched in, enjoying your second life… but you didn’t want to be found. So you turned and headed down a cobbled path that you seldom took.

It led to the garden of muses, modeled after the nine greek muses. You hadn’t been in this particular garden much simple because it made you green whenever you looked at the statue of Calliope. Very silly of you, her and Morpheus’s relationship had been over long before you came along. You had been petty and ignorant in your youth, and your jealousy only made the bad parts of you worse. Perhaps you still felt a little jealous over the muse, for she had the luxury of Morpheus’s true affections, even if it had only been for a little while.

The garden the muse opened up to a sheltered maze of plants, shrubs, fountains, statues, and carefully maintained hedges. One could have privacy walking the paths, but not get lost. You stopped at a barely there path whose markings were only labeled by a dirt path. Glancing down at your toes, you moved a foot to feel the dirt. It was soft and almost warm to the touch. It’d been too long since you walked barefoot in dirt or grass. You chose to take this path, not caring that your were dragging your bedsheet through the soil.

As it turned out, the dirt path led to an enclosed grove with a little pond and fountain. Your eyes zeroed in on a bench tucked away next to several Daphne shrubs, the blossoms filling the air with a sweet scent. Walking over, you shuffled in a semi circle and sat down, hugging your bed sheet closer to your body while staring at the gurgling water. The sound brought a certain peace to you, but it couldn’t drive out the feeling of being alienated. You held out your hand in front of you and looked at your fingers. There was something within you that didn’t belong, a touch of magic, perhaps grains of sand… something that you never had before.

“What did you do,” You softly whispered to yourself, feeling anger flicker through your veins once more. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want emotions. You didn’t want to hurt. Midst your tirade within your mind, a squeak filled the air and you heard the sound of flapping wings. Your brow furrowed for but a moment, then a little gold griffin flapped its way into the garden, letting out happy squeaks. Gentle brown eyes landed on you and the baby gargoyle squeaked, flapping towards you. You could only stare in puzzlement for a few moments before the baby gargoyle made it apparent that it was going to land on you. You held out your hand as the infant drop through the air with a series of squeaks, it dropped its bottom on your hand and looked up at you with what you could only perceive as a grin.

“Hello little one,” You spoke, managing a gentle smile, your first in over a century. The gargoyle’s grin widened and its little hands reached for your thumb, clutching it tightly and with a warmth you found comforting.

“Goldie!” A voice called out. “Goldie were did you go!?” You recognized that voice. It was Abel… you hadn’t realized that he had returned to the palace. Your eyes focused back on the gargoyle, Goldie you presumed.

“Are you hiding from him?” You asked, tilting your head to the side, the streak of white in your hair falling into your face. A small hand reached for the white strands and the gargoyle squeaked again.

“Goldie!” Abel’s voice rang out close and the man appeared in the sectioned off garden. “There you are!” He exclaimed before his eyes widened. “Oh, hello Blanche, I didn’t know you were out here… I thought that Lord Morpheus still had you on bed rest…” His words trailed off when he took in the fact that you were sitting in the garden with only a bedsheet wrapped around your body. “Should you even be out here?”

“I needed fresh air,” You answered softly, your eyes focusing on the baby gargoyle. “Am I to presume that this is Goldie?” Abel beamed at you proudly.

“Yep! Lord Morpheus gave it to us as a gift after he had to absorb Gregory to save the realm,” Abel explained with a fading smile. “I— how are you Blanche… I mean do you want to be called that still? Lord Morpheus is adamant the we call you Adri—” Abel cut himself off and held his hands against his chest. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

You looked at Abel, your heart once again aching terribly in your chest.

“I suppose it does not matter what I am called,” You answered. “For even I do not know what I am anymore. I do not feel like Adrienne. I know I am no longer Blanche. She’s gone. I am just—” You cut yourself off and stared at the palace looming high above. “I’m lost, Abel, I am lost and I do not know how to be found.”

Abel frowned and stepped closer to you, searching for the words to remove the lingering pain that was so easily expressed on your features.

“I don’t think you can find yourself,” Abel said, his fingers fidgeting nervously. “What’s happened to you over your lifetime, it’s hurt you, deeply, and that’s not something you’re going to heal from alone.”

“I’m not dragging anyone down with me,” You murmured, eyes drifting back to Goldie who was happily nuzzling your thumb. “I spent nearly a century without emotion, protected by someone my mind created, tis only built within me and now I fear that it has festered to the point of poison.”

“Then maybe you need someone who’s impervious,” Abel pointed out. “You’ll always be Adrienne to me, Adrienne, no matter what happens. I don’t think Jessamy would want you to spend the rest of your life alone and miserable.” Your eyes looked back to Abel. He gave you a soft look. “She wanted you to be happy, you know, that’s what made her happy, so be happy.”

You felt your eyes burn, a building of salinity that you scorned for so long. Squeezing your eyelids shut, you held up your hand, indicating to Goldie to return to Abel. The infant gargoyle chirped at you and nuzzled your thumb one last time before flapping wings carried it back to Abel.

“Abel, I do not know how,” Your words were a whisper among the gentle breeze and softly rustling plants. Abel was going to try and offer you more words of encouragement, but the presence of his lord and master silenced any words he would have spoken. He bowed his head to Morpheus.

“My lord,” Abel said before backing out of the intimate garden. You kept your eyes closed, not wanting to confront Morpheus.

“Adrienne,” Morpheus softly spoke, feeling your flow of pain and emotion. He could even sense the tears burning away at the tips of your eyelashes.

“Don’t,” You stated, your voice wavering. “Please, just— don’t.”

“You’ve been running from this long enough, little one, it is consuming you.” A flare of anger burned in your chest and your eyelids flickered open as you harshly glared at him.

“And who’s fault is that!?” You hissed venomously, knowing that the only one with enough power and sway to change the deal you had made with the three-in-one, was him. “If you hadn’t meddled—”

“You would still be an emotionless shell of what you once were.” Morpheus cut you off, stepping closer. “You think Jessamy wanted that?”

“At least I wasn’t hurting!” You threw back, your fingers clutching your bed sheet tighter. “You took away the only one who could actually protect me from my pain! Do you have any idea how much it hurts?”

“Of course I do—”

“No, Morpheus!” You cut him off this time. “You do not!! You may feel my visceral emotions but you will never truly understand my agony because I didn’t just lose my sister that day!” Your shouting broke the peace of the garden and your rage was burning beneath your skin, making it hot. Morpheus’s eyes glimmered with silver.

“You are not the only one who lost someone,” Morpheus reminded you. “Jessamy was my dearest friend.”

“You never came back!” You snarled ferociously at him, airing out the full intensity of emotions welling within you. Your teeth were clenched as tears began to slip down your cheeks. “You promised, you said to wait for you! Well I did! For years I sat waiting for you! But you never. Came. Back.” Your chest was heaving, and it wasn’t like you were shouting at the top of your lungs, just emotionally ruined. Your lips started to tremble, only enhancing your devastation as the tears continued to run down your face. Morpheus loathed them. “Neither of you came back to me, Morpheus. So I made a choice I thought was best for me because it was better than suffering through the agony of loosing you and her. Why did you take that away from me? Do you want me to feel this unbearable pain?”

Morpheus wordlessly strode towards you, unable to stand on the sidelines and watch your pain and agony drip down your face and tear into your heart. He dropped to his knee in front of you and wrapped his arms around your trembling body, pulling you into an embrace he willed to stave off your emotional ruin. Then he pressed your face into his chest and buried his own into your hair.

“I have never wished for you to hurt, beloved,” He murmured into your hair, holding you tightly and willing all of your pain to slip from your new body. “I just wanted to protect you. Being in that state wasn’t protecting you, Adrienne, it was hurting you.”

“It wasn’t for you to decide.” You replied, trying to be angry but failing.

“I made a promise to your sister, I will not break it.” The Endless said, his grasp tightening. A few more rogue tears dripped down your cheeks.

“What did you do, Morpheus,” You rasped. “The fates would not have broken that deal without great cost.” He didn’t immediately reply and that was telling. “What did you do!?”

“Your humanity and tie as my raven,” Morpheus answered as if the words were painful to speak. They were. “They consumed what humanity you had left and severed your tie as a raven of the Dreaming.” You flinched at his words. No wonder you felt so wrong, so lost.

“Then how am I still existing?” You painfully questioned, lifting your head to look in Morpheus’s eyes. “Morpheus, my humanity and ties as your raven were all I had left.” Morpheus slipped his fingers across your face, treasuring his newest creation, the dream that was you.

“What is in front of me, Adrienne, is the Dream of ravens,” He corrected you. “And I have every intention of courting her should she find it within her heart to forgive me.”

Heat slowly crept up your neck and spread across your cheeks, your entire face. You wanted to pull back and flutter away in a flustered mess, but you didn’t have a small body that was quick and good for hiding. The Endless could feel it and enjoyed your warmth beneath his fingertips. This was one topic you couldn’t flutter away from.

“Jessamy might not like that,” You mumbled, almost paralyzed beneath his touch. Then you realized that Jessamy wasn’t here to approve or disapprove. Morpheus’s eyebrow arched as a sliver of a smile appeared on his lips.

“Then it is a blessing that Jessamy already gave me her permission after I requested so,” Morpheus murmured watching in satisfaction as your eyes widened.

“You what?” You questioned with a slight shrill in your voice, your free hand reaching up to latch onto the one cradling your face. Morpheus smirked at your reaction and pulled your forehead to his.

“Your sister was fiercely protective of you, beloved,” He reminded you, gazing into your eyes with the adoration of a being entirely smitten. Your face was still painfully hot as you blinked at him and that heat only got worse with his next words. “I crave your company the moment you leave my side, Adrienne, and did not take the time to express how I truly feel for you, centuries ago. But now, now I know that I should not like to live a moment withoutyou by my side.”

“You’re an idiot,”

“An amusing response as that is precisely what Jessamy said when I discussed my intentions with her.” Morpheus commented before looking down at your body. Your shoulders were bare, tempting, and your legs peeked out from beneath the sheet awkwardly. You were absolutely gorgeous, even with your toes buried in dirt. “Beloved, did you really wander the palace in nothing but a sheet?” You blinked at him.

“Yes?” You answered while tilting your head to the side. “I was feeling lost and clothing was the least of my concerns.” Even as you spoke, your bedsheet around your body shifted and moved. Fabric slipped across your skin and looking down, you found yourself dressed in one of your usual outfits. One that covered most of your skin. You looked back up at Morpheus with a frown. “Did you not appreciate my skin then? Are you displeased with my figure now?” Worry was plastered on your face.

“There are some things, beloved,” Morpheus began, brushing his fingers through the white streak he had made sure to keep when he was sculpted you as his dream. “That are for my eyes only.”

Date Published: 8/2/23

Last Edit: 8/2/23

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#lord morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream the endless x reader #sandman x reader #the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #dream the endless #the sandman netflix