#then the NEXT MORNING when she was painting the wall next to the stairs she brought it up

[sleekervae]

New York Romantic .1

Masterlist

pairing: Tom Blyth x ballerina!oc

summary: a young actor moves across the hall from an aspiring ballerina. (college au kinda)

word count: 1562

a/n: i've had this idea knocking around in my brain for a few days and finally got to penning it down -- enjoy!

August 2016

The sun stretched its golden rays across the morning sky in New York City, the last embrace of summer's fading heat lingered in the air. The city bustled under a whispering breeze that carried the promise of change, as tree leaves, once adorned in vibrant green, began their slow transformation into a canvas of crimson and gold. Amidst the streets, a serene anticipation filled the air, capturing the essence of a city transitioning as the summer activities came to a close and the kids were dreading the return to school.

The wheels on Tom's luggage clacked against the cracks and bumps in the concrete sidewalk, bleary and tired eyes scanning between his phone and the address placards on the various condos. He knew he should've taken a cab, but the bus was so much cheaper and Google indicated it was only a five minute walk to his new living quarters anyway.

He finally stopped in front of a brick building, the address placard worn and rusted from the elements but the numbers matched up with that on his itinerary. The other cue that gave it away was the variety of art pieces in windows and hung over bannisters and fire escapes. Tom lugged his bag up the three stone steps and ducked inside.

The lobby was pale, dingy and in dire need of a fresh coat of paint; not to mention the air held hints of mothballs and burnt microwaved popcorn. An older woman was sat behind a desk, reclined in her chair while glazed eyes were focused on her computer screen. Tom approached slowly, hoping his smile could cover the exhaustion hiding in his face.

"Hello,"

The woman's eyes were the last to focus when she turned her head, blinking over her glasses and a warm smile graced her face, "Oh, hello! You must be... erm..." she suddenly grabbed a clipboard and scanned the tiny text, "... Jacob Nielson?" she spoke in the classic Brooklyn accent with exaggerated vowels and nasally undertones.

"No," he shook his head politely, "My name's Tom. Blyth," he replied.

She scanned her list with her pen, gasping aloud when she found his name, "I see, now! Very nice to meet you, my name's Doris -- I'm the super here. You're my renter from London, right?"

"Yeah. Well -- Yorkshire specifically,"

"I didn't do so well in geography, honey. Have mercy," Doris replied as she stood up, heading for the wall of cubbies behind her, "So tell me, which insane asylum are you checking into?"

" -- Excuse me?"

"What school are you attending?" she asked again, her fingers flourishing across the cubbies.

Tom nodded, "I'm starting at Julliard next week. I'm an actor," he replied.

Doris scoffed, "Yeah? You and everybody's dog, honey," she pulled a key from a specific slot and returned to the desk, "But you got a nice face, maybe you'll luck out,"

Tom wasn't sure whether or not he should've taken that as a compliment, so he simply smiled back and accepted the key, "Um, thank you,"

"You're on floor three, room 14. Your roommate should already be moved in, he can give you a tour of the place," she explained, "If you need anything, leaky faucets fixed and whatnot just come down and see me,"

"Thank you, Doris," he took his bag and started for the elevator on the right of the room, but Doris called out to him again.

"Hold on, handsome! Elevator's broke! Hasn't worked since Giuliani was mayor," she pointed to the left, "Stairs are over there,"

Tom huffed under his breath; he was tired and the last thing he wanted was to lug his suitcase up three flights of stairs. Nevertheless, he gave Doris one more polite grin as he started for the staircase.

The sun cast stark patterns across the stairs, the skewed silhouettes of the window panes interrupted by Tom's own shadow as he made his trek up. He hadn't at first registered the thundering of footsteps above him until a group of kids rushed passed him.

"C'mon! We're gonna miss the bus!" The stairwell was relatively narrow, arms and bodies knocking into Tom until he nearly slipped and his grip loosened on his suitcase. The suitcase went tumbling down the stairs, smacking hard against the opposing wall and the latches burst open. His belongings spilled everywhere.

Tom grumbled to himself, trekking down the stairs again to clean up the mess. One of the kids however hung back, trailing behind her group but she'd witnessed Tom's misfortune. She double backed up the stairs, staring in astonishment at the clothes and knick knacks, then at him.

"Jesus, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

Tom was crouched over the ground when he looked up, coming face-to-face with the concerned expression of a young brunette. She was lean and petite, dressed down in denim shorts and black tank top. Her converse had two different coloured laces, one red and one yellow. He found that peculiar.

"I'm alright," Tom assured her, "If this is the worst thing that happens to me today, then it's not such a bad day, right?" he tried to laugh it off.

The girl simpered, "Sure," nevertheless she crouched down to help him. One of her friends called out from below.

"Noelle! C'mon! We're gonna miss the bus!" she shouted.

The girl -- Noelle -- shouted back, "Go ahead, Bianca! I'll catch up with you guys!"

"But the movie starts in an hour! It's take forty five minutes from here, man!"

"It's twenty minutes of previews, anyways!" she turned back to Tom, her cheeks tinting bashfully, "Sorry about that,"

"Don't worry. You should go with your friends, I'll be fine," he replied.

Noelle scoffed, "Can I trust you with a secret?"

"Sure,"

"I hate horror movies,"

Tom smiled, "And lemme' guess: they're going to see a horror movie?"

"Don't Breathe. Some kids break into a blind guy's house and he ends up killing them all and quite frankly -- I can go my whole life without more nightmares," she replied, a coy smile playing at her lips.

"Don't half blame you. I'm not the biggest fan, myself," he said, "Do you live here?"

"Yep. That nutcase shouting at me was my roommate," she replied, "Sorry, I didn't get your name,"

"Tom,"

"Very nice to meet you. I wish it was under better circumstances," she chuckled back.

"Don't worry about it -- Noelle," he grinned.

She helped him clean up and pack his things, leading him back upstairs to his room. He assured her he could manage but Noelle insisted, saying it was the least she could do for his trouble.

"Room 14?" she cocked a brow when he told her, the corners of her lips pulling back to bare her clenched teeth.

"Yeah. What's wrong?" Tom asked apprehensively, "I don't have a serial killer for a roommate, right?"

Noelle shook her head, "No, no, you get Sunny. And he's just like his name -- absolute sunshine human being,"

"... I sense there's a 'but' coming," he trailed.

"He's a scholarship violinist, he's brilliant. And he's so brilliant because he practices at all hours of the night," she explained, "... All hours. You might wanna invest in some noise cancelling ear plugs,"

Tom nodded, relieved that at least his new roomie didn't sound like a dickhead, "Thanks for the advice,"

They stopped in front of the door, a worn brass 14 glinting subtly in the light. Tom fished out the key from his pocket, "I guess this is me,"

"Oh, damn," Noelle huffed, glancing at the door across from them, "You get the insane neighbours,"

His eyes flitted between her and the door, "... Whatcha' mean by that?"

Noelle pulled a key from her pocket, "Well, they're dancers for one. So they're always playing music, talking shit, burning their instant noodles because they're half-daft," with that she shoved the key into the lock and twisted, and sure enough the door opened.

Tom glanced at her, sheer amusement crossing over his face. He simpered under his breath, "You're my half-daft dancer neighbour who burns her instant noodles?"

"Unfortunately for you," she confirmed, half smirking.

"And how does one burn their instant noodles?" he asked.

"Don't worry about it," she closed and locked the door again, "But I'll let you get settled in. If you need anything at all, you can just pop over,"

"Thank you, Noelle," he smiled, "And thanks again for --" he stopped suddenly when he heard a faint violin melody from the other side of his door. It was a beautiful melody nonetheless, and it had him intrigued, "I suppose that's my roommate?"

Noelle nodded back, "Yep. I promise you, he's a sweetheart," she started walking backwards towards the stairwell, "I'm sorry again about earlier,"

"Don't give it a second thought. Have fun at your movie," he replied.

She giggled sardonically, "Oh trust me, I'll have a blast. I'll see you around, Tom,"

Tom gave her a small wave, watching her until she disappeared around the corner, could hear her shoes squeaking as she trotted down the stairs. He couldn't deny he found her quite a looker, a small part of him giddy with excitement at the prospect of getting to know his new neighbour. The violin melody continued to play on the other side of the door, and taking a deep breath for confidence, he pushed the key into the lock and opened the door...

#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #tbosas #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus imagine #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes #original story #original female character #imagine blog

[starhrtz]

╭﹕🕸️ ｡♡・hey lover!

୨୧⸝⸝﹕synopsis — spiderman!xiao bf headcanons

୨୧⸝⸝﹕warnings — maybe ooc xiao // brief mentions of wounds // a bit suggestive at paragraph 14?

୨୧⸝⸝﹕notes — i feel like I'll be doing this for all the anemo boys ngl, i tried making this long :3

spiderman!xiao who never wanted you to find out about him being spiderman. You only found out when he webbed you by your waist when his tingle told him you were going to fall down the stairs.

spiderman!xiao who wished he told you sooner about his alter ego. The way you would gently tend his wounds made him flustered and shiver just from your touch.

he would often winced when you applied the ointment on his wounds, but he would never let out any noise wanting to be seen as a hero in your eyes.

spiderman!xiao who loves swinging both of you to a random rooftop to see the sunset or the starry sky, a smile tugged on his lips as he saw how amazed you were just by the view of the sky.

spiderman!xiao who hated how your dates would always be cut short because of some villian of the week disrupting the city's peace, he would often try and defeat the villian as fast as he could wanting to be in ur embrace soon.

on rare nights, he might miss the dates that both of you had planned. You understood it was due to his duties but your heart did sting though the next morning that sadness was replaced with surprised as you opened your doorstep to see a giant plush toy infront of you with the note 'from your friendly neighbourhood spiderman'.

spiderman!xiao who likes to doodle you inside his notebook while in school, of course he only does it when both of you don't share classes. His doodle was mostly him drawing how you looked last night or what you were wearing, he'll also try and sneak in his spidersuit colours inside as a small little touch.

hu tao found out he often went to an abandoned train station to spray paint and she found he actually spray painted many moments between you and him. (she was only there because she was ghost hunting.)

spiderman!xiao who likes to visit you at night, wanting to be in your embrace or perhaps to steal you away for the night to show you a new place he had found.

spiderman!xiao who spends more time at your house than his actual home, his excuse was that your window had a clearer view of the city so he could see the crime easily while protecting you. (he's a horrible liar.)

he'll also come to your home late at night, wanting to sleep in the comfort of your arms or use you as his personal pillow. When you wake up, you could either find your legs being tangled with xiao's or smell something delicious coming from your kitchen where you could find your boyfriend cooking breakfast for you.

spiderman!xiao who at first didn't want to swing with you in his arms, afraid of dropping you but please don't be afraid to tell him if he left bruises on your hips because of his grip... The last thing he wants is you injured especially if he is the one who caused you pain.

spiderman!xiao who gets flustered whenever you try on his suit, to him it made you even more attractive in his eyes.

one time, you accidentally used his web shooters to pin him to the wall... Instead of being angry, he was really flustered and found it rather hot of course he'll never tell you. He'll keep it a secret as long as he lives not wanting to be teased by it.

spiderman!xiao whos favourite memory was when both of you had a spiderman kiss (where he was upside down with his mask tugged above his mouth)

spiderman!xiao who says you're the reason why he is still spiderman, you're the one who keeps him going and you're the one who makes him see the brighter side of things.

© astrinityy — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works!!

#astronetwrk #xiao x reader #xiao x you #spiderman xiao #xiao headcanons #xiao fluff #genshin xiao x reader #xiao modern au #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #genshin xiao #★ — writing

[kiwisbell]

Whiskey Sour

chapter two: manhattan

Reuniting with your estranged father while you finish college in Austin has unintended consequences. His best friend, for one.

series masterlist

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

series tags and warnings: dbf!joel being extremely criminally attractive, big ol' age gap (40s/early 20s), unprotected piv (do not follow the leader), creampie, multiple sex positions, multiple orgasms, oral sex (m and f receiving), dry humping, spitting, biting, joel miller is a MUNCH, very appropriate use of a showerhead, consensual somnophilia, yoga, heavy emphasis on payphones, daddy issues, family reunions, angst, dead mom, grief and mourning, father/daughter relationship, bartending, reader is a woman in STEM (author is not), being a student in university deserves a warning probably, attempted drugging (roofies), college boys suck, possessive sex, possessive joel, protective joel, obligatory warning for joel's salt-and-pepper hair, masturbation, wet dreams, no outbreak AU, hurt/comfort, healing, no sarah or ellie, stargazing, face-sitting, pining/yearning, happy ending

word count: ~ 5.9k

chapter 2: manhattan

Furniture-building and bonding.

Two of your housemates are perfectly pleasant. Liam, however, is… peculiar. 

The house itself is just fine. It’s attached to others on the quaint street, a shotgun-style thing with plain grey paint and white trim. It’s situated right near campus, and there haven't been any problems with the landlord nor the house itself, so you're happy. It’s bigger than your studio apartment in New York, and you're paying less, considering you now have others to chip in for the lease. 

You met Leigh and Sonya in the bathroom of a bar downtown while acquainting yourself with the city and deciding to get a little too drunk. In front of the mirror, the three of you became best friends, the way drunk women do in bathrooms, and they mentioned they were looking for a couple roommates over the school year. You greedily accepted. 

You’d like to think they're good judges of character, and Liam isn't terrible. Truly, he's not. He’s a handsome young guy, he’s on the rowing team, and he gets good grades. He knows how to cook, even though he's a bit of a health nut, and the four of you have eaten a few meals together at your little dining table. Still, he sits a little too close when he’s next to you on the couch, and he asks you where you're going every time you leave the house. 

With all of your shifts and classes, you still haven't had time to unpack all your things. Your dad’s offered to help you on his time off, but you refuse to let him work without you. So, your many boxes sit around a mattress on the floor until you find the time to set up. On your way down the stairs to the foyer, your bag on your shoulder, you rifle around for your keys. 

“Where are you going?”

You stop in your tracks and roll your eyes before you turn around to face him. “Class,” you say evenly. 

You're frankly surprised he hasn't memorised your schedule already. “Bio?”

Okay. Maybe he has. “That’s right,” you say with a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll see you later on.”

“Yeah.” He gives you a charming smile and leans against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. “See you later.”

You hurry out the door without making it look like you're hurrying, and slide into your car. It takes two turns of the key to start up, but you’re glad you didn't have to endure a question-and-answer session with a guy who has no business knowing your business. 

Leigh’s already there when you settle into your seat. “How was American Lit?” you ask her. She had a free block just before Biology, and decided—for some reason—to fill it by studying the transcendentalists, free-thinkers, and racists of the world. 

She gives you a good-natured eye roll. “Overrated as always. Hey, did Liam give you a tough time this morning?”

You shrug your shoulders. “Not as much as usual. Why? Did he harass you?”

“He doesn't give a shit what Sonya or I do,” she says with a laugh of mirth. “Maybe because we aren’t single—or into the male of the species. He probably wants to know you're not going to see a boyfriend.”

“Ah. Well, luckily for him, Bio is all the action I can manage to get these days.” You flip open your notebook and eye the clock. Your professor strolls in just on time. “And Liam isn't my caretaker. He shouldn't care if I have a boyfriend.”

“He does if he wants to be the lucky guy.”

You nudge her gently with your elbow. “He should have told me that before he served me plain tofu last week. For breakfast.”

Leigh giggles, stifling it with her hand, and the lecture begins. 

~

Your dad opens the door a few seconds after your soft knock. “Thank God you're here,” he groans. “I was gonna eat this whole steak myself. Joel would've had to fend for himself.”

Oh, that's interesting. “Joel’s here?” you say casually. 

“I hope that's okay.” He scratches the back of his head awkwardly. “Was hoping I could ask you a favour in exchange for food.”

You step inside and give him a kiss on the cheek. “Of course. As long as you don’t make me eat plain tofu.”

He makes a face, but you just shake your head. “Don’t ask. What’s your favour?”

“I want to help you get your new place in order,” he tells you, “and Joel’s volunteered to help.”

“Your favour… is that I let you help me unpack?”

“Uh. Yeah.” He shrugs. “We don’t mind, kiddo. Really. It’ll make things go a lot faster.”

“But…” You know it’s a beautiful deal, and you should take it, but something in your gut twists at the idea of using your new family for manual labour. “I… I can’t let you do that for me. Let me pay you, at least. Let me—”

“No.” He wraps his hands around your arms. “Let me do this for you. I’m your dad. Dads are supposed to help their kids put together furniture and shit.”

You don’t remember being such a teary-eyed person, but you wrap your hands around his middle and blink away the wetness. “Thank you. But I’m not letting you do it for free.”

“I’m sure Joel will have something to say about that, too.”

Sure enough, Joel Miller is in the kitchen, pulling three plates from a cupboard. When he turns around and meets your eye, your stomach turns upside-down. “Hey.”

“Fancy seeing you here.” You give him a smile and take the plates from his hands, since he hasn’t even managed to close the cupboard since you walked in. “I was under the impression you had a bad back, Mr. Miller. Don’t do too much heavy lifting.”

“Where the hell did you hear that?” Joel narrows his eyes at your dad. “You tellin’ your daughter I’m incapable of doin’ my job?”

“Nobody ever said that.” You set out the plates and give Joel a reassuring look. “But if you think I’m letting you both put together my space for free, you’re in for a rude awakening.”

“I’m family,” says your dad. “And Joel’s my business partner, so he gets roped into my shit no matter what.”

You stare expectantly at Joel, who just folds his arms over his chest. You look sharply away when you find your eyes catching on the bulge of his biceps. “It’s true,” he says. “I don’t mind.”

When he sees you worrying your bottom lip with your teeth, Joel looks down at the counter and blinks hard. Jesus, he thinks. The fuck am I looking at? Mike’s kid. Mike’s fuckin’ daughter.  

He scratches his jaw and slaps Mike on the back. “You want me to start the barbecue?”

Mike waves a hand. “Nah, man. I’ll get it.” He looks toward you. “Can you cook something other than boxed macaroni?”

You scoff indignantly, pointing at him with a fork from the table. “You listen here, old man—”

Mike lifts his hands in surrender and backs out the kitchen door. “Get the potatoes ready.” 

With that, you're left alone with Joel. 

Shit. 

“You heard the man. Do you know where his masher is?” Moving around the dining table, your hand ghosts over his back to put some distance between you as you shuffle past him to the stove. The gentle touch fuses every knob of his spine together and echoes through his bones. 

Joel stiffens, shutting his eyes, his knuckles white around the counter. “It’s, uh—” Fuck. Where is the masher? He’s been in this kitchen a hundred times. He’s held the masher plenty. “It’s in the…”

He can vaguely hear some rattling in the cupboards behind him, but it’s only when he hears his name that he manages to unstick himself from the counter and move aside. You're on your knees, staring up at him with an apologetic smile. “I need to look in this cupboard.”

Joel staggers backward so suddenly he almost trips over his own feet. “Sorry,” he croaks. Holy shit. He can see your tits perfectly in that little white tank top, the swell of your ass in those godforsaken jeans as you bend over and scour through the cupboard. Joel’s mouth feels dry. He rubs two fingers across his mouth, feeling fucking filthy as he imagines tugging your pretty tits out of that shirt, shucking down your jeans, spreading your thighs and tasting the sweet—

“Found this instead.” You stand up, a little flushed in the face, holding up an electric beater with a huge smile on your face. “Think it still works?”

“Uh—” Joel clears his throat. “Yeah.”

You frown at him, setting the beater aside as you begin to peel the potatoes at the counter. “Are you all right?”

As if you don't know what you're doing. As if every single man who walks by you in the street doesn't do a triple take just to take in that body. Jesus Christ. “Fine,” he says tightly. 

Soft skin. Lips. Teeth. Kind, expectant eyes, peering up at him from—

He’s completely fine. He's never been fucking better. 

Joel doesn't miss the flash of hurt that passes through your eyes before you focus on your task. “I know it's strange,” you say softly, kindly, “having someone else here. In Austin, in this house. I know you're best friends, and I don’t ever want to get in the way of that. I definitely don't want you to resent me. So, if there’s anything I can do”—you draw in a small, shaky breath, and it sounds so fucking sad that his heart cracks down the middle—“just let me know. Okay?”

Oh. You think he doesn't like you? 

“Fuck. Wait.” Joel steps up next to you and places his hand on your arm. You stop your peeling and look up at him, your eyes so fucking buttery and sweet. “Wait. I… I don’t mean to be an asshole. Mike says I do that sometimes.” 

You let out a genuine laugh, and Joel wonders if you're used to having people fall under your spell. If you know that a mere smile from you will make a man walk a tightrope between two mountain peaks. “It ain’t strange,” he tells you. “I’m happy for Mike. I’ve never been happier for him. If you knew how long he's been talkin’ about you…” He scoffs, his hand falling from your arm, even though he indulges a little when he lets his fingers lift goosebumps on your skin along the way. “Don’t… Please don't think for a second that anyone couldn't like you.”

Your bottom lip trembles, and his heart spikes in panic that he's said something wrong. You quickly swipe your thumbs under your watery eyes and sniffle. “I’ve been crying a lot,” you tell him with a weepy laugh. “It’s not you, Joel. Fuck, I think—I think I really needed to hear that.”

“I’ll say it again,” he says, “if you want.” 

The sight of that crooked smirk imbues your knees with a unique weakness. “I’ll let you know the next time I need it.”

His fingers linger a little too close to yours, but he backs away, flexing his hand to shake the imprint of your softness under his palm. The perfume you wear is fucking intoxicating—his nostrils flare when you shift your attention back to the potatoes and the subtle turn of your head makes him inhale the smell of your flowery shampoo. “What can I do?” he asks you, his voice coming out a little rougher than he intended. 

You give him that wicked smile again, and it strikes him hard. “It’s about time you asked. Use those big muscles and fill this pot with water for me.”

Big muscles, huh? He'll fuckin’ show you. He doesn’t give a fuck about his back if it means carrying boxes and putting together furniture will make you happy. Joel does what you tell him, filling the pot, draining it again, then refilling, poking the potatoes when you ask him to, adding milk and butter. You work quietly together apart from the guiding hand of your soft voice, and thank God the beater works, because he cannot handle seeing you bent over in Mike’s kitchen one more time. 

“This is so fucking good.” 

Across the table, Joel watches you cover your mouth as you chew, a little moan rumbling in your throat, and he immediately returns his attention to his own cut of medium-rare, ordering his hand to manually unclench around his knife. 

“I told you,” laughs Mike. “No more eating that shitty boxed macaroni. Or plain tofu, whatever the fuck that is.”

Plain tofu? What the hell are you eating at home? “Liam thinks he’s allergic to sugar. It’s the only explanation.”

Both Joel and Mike speak at the same time. “Who the hell is Liam?”

They share a glance, but you interrupt the brief silence. “My housemate,” you reply. Neither of them miss the distasteful tone in your voice. 

“Is Liam… nice to you?” asks Mike. It’s a careful question, tediously making sure he doesn't overstep too fast, even though Joel wants to know the same thing. 

You, of course, see right through him. “Liam is perfectly fine,” you tell him, taking another cube of steak between your teeth. 

Yeah, Joel’s not convinced. Neither is Mike, judging from the look he sends Joel’s way. But they both drop the subject, for now. It’s one thing to find his long-lost daughter and welcome her into his home—it’s another to inadvertently scare her away with overbearing questions. You're independent. You're used to caring for yourself. 

Though, judging from how you devour your steak and potatoes, Joel’s not particularly convinced you’re taking enough care of yourself, either. 

“So, this Daily Texan thing.” Mike swallows a mouthful of cooked carrots and looks at you expectantly. “Did it pan out?”

Your eyes glint with excitement. “Yes! God, I forgot to tell you—I’ll be starting next week.” 

Mike grins, and you try, truly and deeply, to stop yourself from crying again. “That’s my girl.”

“Congratulations,” says Joel, lifting his beer in toast. 

Your flushed cheeks are so damn cute. “Thank you.” You hide your growing smile behind a bite of steak. “So, what's your next job?”

“Client is looking to fill in their pool,” says Mike. “Wants a gazebo over it.”

Your mouth drops open. “So you're pouring concrete and filling holes?”

Joel snorts. “Ain't always like that. Finished the scaffolding on a house last week. Sooner than we expected.”

He doesn't know why he cares about sounding better at his job than he is, or more exciting. It’s not like carpentry is thrilling. Not to a young, pretty, smart girl like you. Still, you beam like it’s as much of an accomplishment as being elected president. “Looks like a tight ship you both run. Does it ever get difficult?”

“It’s difficult every goddamn day,” says Mike, “especially with this asshole.”

Joel smacks him upside the head as you take a passive sip of water. When all the plates are cleared, and you practically race your dad to the kitchen to clean up, Joel decides he doesn't want to go home yet. It’s rude to dine and dash, after all. It's what his momma told him. 

So, he helps you wash the dishes while Mike decides to walk two blocks over to the closest variety store for a six-pack. “Wet or dry?” you ask Joel. 

He’s already fixing himself in front of the sink and scrubbing the first plate clean. You huff, nudging him playfully with your elbow. He gives you a mock-injured look with those big brown eyes, like a kicked puppy. “Ow.”

“I’m sorry, Joel.” You blink up at him and pout, and the air, unfailingly and familiarly, flees through the open window. His blood surges down to his cock, which twitches, deeply interested, in his jeans. “I’ll kiss it better once you're done,” you tease. 

Jesus Christ. No wonder your roommate wants in your goddamn pants. Joel’s never wanted to fight a college boy until now. “Looks like you're already fallin’ behind,” he manages to tease back, indicating the two plates he's stacked up next to the sink. 

You grab a clean cloth and begin to dry the dishes in silence, accomplishing your tasks at the same speed he does, entering a plain and effective routine. There’s no push or pull. It’s easy. It isn't awkward. The wind whistles gently outside, but Joel still feels hot around the collar, and wonders if you’re checking him out as often as he’s raking his eyes up and down your body. 

He’s going to hell. 

“I don't know much about him,” Joel says gruffly, “but this Liam kid is bad news.”

You laugh mirthlessly. “I could’ve told you that. You know he asks me where I’m going every single time I leave the house? He might think he's coming up with the same clever excuse to talk to me, but he’s embarrassing himself. I…” You press your lips together then part them again, and Joel swallows at the sight. “I can’t ever seem to find luck with guys. I mean, uh… guys my age. They all feel too much like boys.”

It strikes him like a slap to the face. He knows it's not pointed, he knows, and yet his mouth curves up in a smile he can't suppress. He feels something like vindication. That scrap of a college kid doesn't deserve you. He doesn't deserve the same fucking air as you. But they're all entitled. They don't earn what they get. You’ve earned every victory you've won. 

And you like men. You like men who will show you how you deserve to be appreciated. 

“Joel.” Your soft voice wriggles from his ear to his brain and sticks firm to the grey matter. “You’re the one falling behind now.”

You're right. He rips his gaze away from your face and focuses on washing the dishes. And like that, the pair of you dissolve into a pleasurable silence once again. 

The next time it breaks, you're the one who speaks first. 

“Are you happy?”

He’s working a particularly tedious spatula, one filled with holes, so he can stall a little while he meets your gaze again. The look in your eyes gives him pause: it's like you're afraid of what he has to say. 

He shifts his body to face you better, and you do the same. “What kind of answer are you lookin’ to hear?”

It's a gentle question, but it makes you frown. “I don't want you to change your answer to please me.”

He knows that. He also knows there are plenty of things he'd do to please you. “I don’t think I know what happiness is.”

“Good,” you sigh, “because I don't either.”

“What's wrong with that?” Joel wants to brush aside that stray piece of hair hanging in your eye. He doesn't. “You're young. You've got a lot of life left to figure that out.”

“You’re not old, Joel,” you scold. “And sometimes… I don’t know. Sometimes, I think I missed my window.”

At some point, he stopped washing the spatula. “Why?”

“Because I made a lot of sacrifices.” Your voice breaks, and he’s overcome with the need to help, to pull you in and ground your body with his hands. But he doesn't. It will cross a hundred lines. He will not. “And I feel terrible for wanting that. Happiness. I just feel selfish.”

“You know, I was almost married.” Your brows lift at the admission, and Joel chuckles. “Yeah. I know. Proposed and everything. But somewhere along the road, we both realised we wanted lives that didn't mesh. She wanted the life of a world traveller, and I was just ready to settle down. Maybe even have a kid.” He shrugs. “Wouldn’t have worked. Not with each other, at least.”

“You don't regret it?”

“Maybe…” He clears his throat, backing away just a step and focusing on the godforsaken spatula. “Maybe it's okay to be selfish sometimes.”

A hand, soft and small, is on his upper arm. It’s the simplest touch in the world. But to Joel, it’s a match that lights up his whole body from hand to gut to feet. It’s a pair of shackles that lock him in place. He refuses to breathe for fear that the slightest movement will shrug your hand away. 

“It’s not my place,” you say, “but I’m glad you made that decision. I’d hate to ever see you unhappy, Joel Miller.” Your lips quirk up into that smile again, and his nerves twinge like violin strings. “Might have to start running for the hills.”

~

You can tell Joel and your dad are carefully scanning their surroundings when they enter your home on Sunday night for any sight of Liam Baker. “He’s at work,” you reassure them. “Sonya and Leigh are out for date night. Thank you both. Seriously. I can’t repay—”

“You don’t need to,” says your dad, kissing the top of your head. “Let's see the damage.”

You lead them to your room, and Joel focuses his gaze on the creaking wood under his boots so he doesn't have to look at your ass in those tight fucking yoga pants. Do you do yoga? 

Jesus, he's losing it. You let them into your room, your face a little flushed. There’s a yoga mat unrolled on the floor, and Joel’s got his answer. He tries very hard not to imagine you with your ass up in the air, grabbing a handful of your flesh as he gets up close and—

“You don't have a bed frame.” 

You try to wave off Mike’s gentle scolding. “I needed another person to help put it together. It's been perfectly fine—”

“—sleeping on the floor?” 

Joel can tell you're getting uncomfortable with all the focus on you, so he smacks Mike on the back and asks, “What do you want done first?”

Mike gets it, backing off and letting you take the lead. The three of you make quick work of assembling the bed frame and lifting your mattress onto it. When you crawl onto the bed to test that it won't collapse, your limbs resembling a starfish and that tight shirt and those tight pants, Joel looks away. 

Next is your dresser. It’s a fucking breeze for two carpenters, who have it assembled and placed precisely where you want in a half-hour, without looking at the instructions (“Men,” Joel hears you scoff under your breath). You busy yourself with putting together your bedside table and, afterward, folding your clothes neatly in the drawers of the dresser. Sitting on the floor cross-legged, you fold up all your pairs of jeans and your goddamn yoga pants in such clean piles that Joel wants to ask you to help reorganise his closet. “The track work okay?” he asks you.

“Like a greased wheel.” You grin at him when he kneels to test the drawer himself. “I trust you, you know. You do work with wood for a living.”

“Can’t have this fallin’ on you as you walk by.” He matches your smile, deciding that the track works just fine. It’ll do you good. His chest feels a little bigger for knowing he’s helped you out. 

“Where’s my dad?” 

Joel gestured with his chin toward the window, which looks out on the driveway. “Lookin’ at your car,” he replies. “Apparently, he doesn’t trust it.”

“I can’t imagine why,” you say nonchalantly, folding your pairs of socks as fast as lightning. “The guy I bought it from only snorted two lines while I was there.”

“All right, smartass.” His smile drops when he sees what’s in the bag you haven’t yet unpacked: a haphazard pile of panties. Lace. Jesus Christ, there’s so much lace. Pink, blue, white. Joel’s jaw ticks. There’s a black fucking thong in there, and he hasn’t had enough time to put up a shield. All he’s doing is picturing that pathetic scrap of black lace as you get on your hands and knees, as he bites into the flesh of your ass, as he sucks bruises into your thighs that will smart for days, as he shucks down that fucking thong and fits himself—

Joel’s back pinches a little when he stands up so abruptly, and you’re the first to notice his wince. 

“Hey,” you say with a furrowed brow, standing up to close the distance between you, “you need to go home? You’ve done enough.”

Joel cocks his head at you and opens his mouth to reply, but the sound of the door opening downstairs diverts both your gazes. It isn’t your father’s voice calling out to you; it’s Liam’s. You glance at the clock and curse. He’s done his shift.

“Hey,” he says, slapping his palm above the doorway of your bedroom to signal his entrance. His gaze finds you immediately, but when it flickers to the other man in the room, his eyes narrow. “Who’s this?”

Joel puts his body in front of yours instinctively. Doesn’t this asshole know how to knock? “This is Joel,” you say politely, keeping things nice and civil, “my dad’s friend. Joel, this is Liam—my housemate.”

Liam stretches his hand out, but Joel sizes him up first. He’s clean-cut and clean-shaven and looks like he hits the gym, but he’s scrawny compared to Joel. He could knock the kid clean out if he wanted to. He sort of wants to. He reaches forward to shake his hand and squeezes a little harder than usual.

“Good to meet you, Joel,” says Liam. 

“Yeah,” is all Joel says in reply. 

You clear your throat and step out from behind Joel’s broad shoulders. “Is there something you needed to talk about before I call it a night?” you ask Liam.

“Actually”—Liam eyes Joel warily—“I was wondering if you wanted to go out. Hit a bar or something.”

Oh, this kid is bold. Joel lifts his brows, folding his arms over his chest. Who the fuck goes bar-hopping on a Sunday night? You’re visibly uncomfortable at the proposal, your eyes darting between the two men in the room. “No,” you finally say, “not tonight, sorry. I have class pretty early tomorrow before my shift.”

“Right,” says Liam, shaking off the invitation just as easily as he offered it. “No worries. Maybe next weekend.”

“Yeah,” you say, and Joel hears a sigh of relief threaded between the letters. “Anyways, we’re all done here, so…”

Something like panic settles in for a restless sleep in Joel’s chest. He can’t just… leave you here. He can’t, on good conscience, walk out the front door knowing you’re a couple doors down from this asshole. There isn’t a lock on your door. He could—

“Joel.” Your hand, again, gently squeezing his bicep. “I’ll walk you down.”

Liam only leaves when you do, and it pisses Joel off even more. He doesn’t follow you downstairs, thank Christ, but it still means Joel has to leave. You keep holding onto his arm as you guide him outside to the front porch. “No fuckin’ way,” seethes Joel, finally letting himself speak far out of earshot, “can you live with him.”

“I never had a choice, Joel,” you reply, calm as ever, your hand doing all the heavy lifting—seeping into his bones, helping his shoulders relax a little. 

“You haven’t seen how this asshole looks at you—”

“Joel,” you cut in. “I’ll be fine.”

Joel’s fingers flex into fists and uncurl repeatedly. “Has this kid tried anything on you?”

“No. He hasn’t touched me, said anything out of line, or done a single thing that warrants this.” You smooth out the tension in his brow with your thumb, and Joel’s heart kicks up five notches. “I’ll be okay. Can you trust that?”

It feels illicit to have you touch him like this. You’re strictly off-limits. You’re not his. You’re not here for him. Joel scolds himself for all the pretty pictures he conjures in his head when you smile and laugh and show off that fucking body. He scolds himself a little harder for not caring enough to stop. 

“Yeah,” he says with a pout you want to bite right off his pretty mouth. He’s gorgeous in the light of dusk, softened around the edges and still grumpy as hell. He’ll never touch you like this, like you’ve imagined in your nicest little daydreams. 

“But if he does…” That muscle in his jaw feathers like it tends to do, and all you want is to climb onto him and suck all that tension away. 

“If he does…” Your voice sounds like midnight, velvety soft. “I’ll run to you.”

He still can’t decide, hours later when he’s staring at the ceiling and feeling anything but sleepy, if you were joking.

~

He’s trying to be careful about the time he spends alone with you. It’s just that you make it very difficult.

He’s in Sandy’s Bar again. Without Mike. When he walks in, you’re chatting up with an elderly couple who are both drinking strawberry gin and tonics. Joel can’t help but smile. You’re so fucking sweet, leaning in close to hear them properly and being patient with their repetitive questions whenever it seems their memories aren’t availing them. They’re asking you about school, it seems, when he gets close and sidles up at the bar. 

Your eyes meet his, and they glimmer when you smile. Joel’s chest feels tight. “Hi,” you say, your voice a little breathy when you finally get away. It’s such a sexy fucking sound that his head goes a little fuzzy. “Sorry about that.”

“Charming the locals?” he asks. 

“Apparently so.” You give him a humble shrug. “Complain about the current state of politics or the economy and you can charm the pants off anyone over fifty.”

Joel chuckles. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“You drinking?”

“Just coffee, if you have it,” he replies. “I’m… here alone.”

You don’t frown for very long. In fact, he isn’t certain you were ever frowning at all when that wicked smile is twisting your mouth again. Cloying, black, filthy heat courses through his bloodstream. “So you came to see me. Whatever did I do to deserve the attention of Joel Miller?”

Fuck if I know. God forbid he get a restful goddamn sleep since he met you, since he mostly spends his time imagining your tight, soft body underneath him. He pictures sweat and sighs and wet, gasping moans that jerk him awake even when he manages to fall asleep for a moment. 

He needs to get laid. He needs to bury himself in a woman’s body. It’s been too fucking long. That’s all. 

It’s not you. 

“I came for the discount,” he says instead, holding up the chipped mug of coffee you’ve handed him. 

You give him a challenging glare. “What discount?”

You've got him there. “How's the car?” he tries instead. 

“Dad thinks I need a new alternator.” You blow out a breath as you shift to pour a beer for another patron. “Another thing I can’t afford. I’ll pick up a couple extra shifts next week. And here I go, complaining again. I’m sorry, Joel.”

He wants to shake his head and tell you to complain all you fucking want. It means you like talking, confiding, untangling your brain from those knots it gets itself in, and giving him little bits of your life. 

“Alternators ain’t cheap, but I know a guy,” he says. Ken will fix up your piece-of-junk ride if Joel has anything to say with it. “I can give him your number if you want. Tell him you’re Joel’s friend.”

“Sure that won't make him hang up on me?”

Smartass. “Almost sure.”

The gratitude in your eyes is an addictive substance. “I’ve accepted way too much help from you already,” you say, “but God, I need that car.” 

Joel scratches his beard and laughs. “If your car guy only snorted one line of coke, you might not have had that problem.”

“I may have to give him a piece of my mind.”

He’d certainly like to see that. 

“Listen.” You lean forward. Joel can see the winding shapes in your irises and the curve of your upper lip, the way your tits press together in that shirt. “My shift will be over at eleven, and I have a paper to write. But I have something to show you.”

Joel lifts his brows. “I can’t edit papers for shit. I can barely read ‘em.”

“No!” You wave your hand, your cheeks flushing a bit. “I… I know you like the stars, out in the country. I was wondering if you'd like to take a drive.”

A drive. 

A drive? You want to go stargazing with him? You want to drive out, alone in a car together, out of the city, and watch the night sky? Joel is momentarily dumbstruck; he can't fathom that a girl like you would want to spend her Friday night with an old, grumpy asshole. You should be out at a club in a tight little dress, conning free drinks from idiot college boys and dancing with your friends. You shouldn't want… him. This.  

“It was stupid,” you blurt out, casting your eyes down at the bar top. “If I crossed a line, I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

Joel shakes his head. “Hey, look at me.” Your eyes lift, wide and sad, and he’s going to slap himself for being the one to make you look like that. “What will your dad say?”

You blink slowly, catlike. “Dad won't complain about me spending time with his best friend.”

“He will if his best friend’s much older than you.”

“Joel.” Your syrupy voice makes him want to reach out and wrap his hand around your hair just to hear what kind of noises he can get you to make. “You’re a family friend. If Dad has a problem, I’ll make sure he takes it up with me.” You squeeze his shoulder. “You’ve known him a lot longer than he’s known me. I wouldn't do anything to screw up your friendship, or make him angry with you. You know that, right?”

His heart aches a little for your compassion, how you're willing to take the fall for him. He doesn't want you to have to make another sacrifice, ever again. 

“I know,” he says softly. 

Your tongue wets your bottom lip, a pleasurable hum in your head at the sound of his gentle voice—like a hand at the nape of your neck, holding you firm. “How d’you know I like stars?” asks Joel. 

“Just…” You watch his eyes flit down to your mouth. “Just don't laugh.”

“I won't laugh.”

“Promise me.”

“Baby, I’m not gonna laugh.”

You take a deep breath. “I asked my dad what he gave you for your birthday last year, and he told me you really loved the telescope.”

You watch his brows curve upward in the middle, his warm eyes glimmering as his face softens. “This is my birthday present?”

“This is your pre-birthday present.” You poke him square in the chest with a finger. “Don’t think you aren't getting a gift after everything you've done to help me.”

“I don’t need—” 

You cut his protest short. “I get off at eleven.”

Joel, of course, goes with you. 

#kiwisbell's fics #whiskey sour #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us #tlou hbo #the last of us fanfiction

[janovavalen]

—soft skin ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

aegon Il targaryen × niece!reader

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ short story au

—part one — two — three — coming soon

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ summary: the two of aegon and y/n never got along. never—all until aegon catches the oh so wonderful, sweetheart y/n targaryen at a club.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ word count! 3257!

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ warnings! drugs (cocaine, alcohol, weed) typical targaryen incest, small obsessive/obsession if you squint, smut, arranged marriage

this fic will NOT follow the story line/plot of HOD! although i made up this au, i do not own house of dragon nor do i own the series, books, and characters! all rights

the next morning things were a little different from the night before. of course, like any other two individuals who go to a bar and end up leaving to have sex in one's house, they’re bound to wake up and feel awkward. especially when the drinks and drugs they took were off in the morning.

y/n woke up with her head turned to the window as the open bed was cold and smooth. groaning with her hand automatically laying atop her head at the pain that throbbed through it.

her face twisting in discomfort she sat up to feel her chest and shoulders be smacked with the coldness of the house. looking down in slight concern and confusion at the coldness she saw her breasts out in the air with no covering.

‘what the fuck…’ covering herself with the silk sheets she looked around at the strange environment to see the a huge window that showed the city down below. marble walls painted dark green that almost look black. the room itself was dark all around as the only light that came through was from the gray sky.

looking around a bit more hopefully to find her clothes or—hell, anything to cover up. she found a button down shirt that wasn’t the one she wore last night but it’ll do.

picking it up and seeing she couldn’t find underwear, y/n’s feet touched the cold feet of the floor below her. the smell of weed and food being clouded into the house itself as she looked around.

the dark long hallway had small pictures on the walls and random expensive things on small tables.

looking at one of them she scoffed at the architecture of a naked woman with huge breasts and the man hugging her legs almost sucking her as she looked down at him.

touching the table that held it, the coldness from it deeply into her fingers she mentally noted—everything in this place is cold.

walking herself down the hall hesitantly with her hand touching the darkened wall she went down the stairs and saw an even bigger downstairs.

the living room with a black clothed couch and dark green carpet under the couch with a glass coffee table that had some empty beer bottles on the top of it. there was a ball table off into the distance with more beers atop it.

once she settled all the way downstairs was where she met the man she fucked last night.

his white hair was lightly tied back into a small ponytail as he wore not shirt but only black sweats.

‘your awake, thought you died along the night’ he scoffed.

‘you’d wish i did…making breakfast, huh?’ she walked over to him and pressed her body against his back as he hummed in agreement to move around the eggs on the plate.

‘never knew you cooked—‘

‘oh i don’t…this is from my mom. i’m just warming it back up. it was in the refrigerator’ he admitted while y/n smiled a little.

‘i could have cooked for you, my mom teaches me some things along with the maids of my house’ y/n let her hand work its way down his back and over the scratches, her scratches.

smiling to herself a bit before moving away with her legs out in the open, welcoming the cold air to swiftly pass her. she let her fingers dance across the white marble table of which was squeaky clean…surprisingly.

walking more over to the large window that looks down on the city below she admired the view. the overlook was beautiful, the clouds however, blocked the sun itself from shining and showing its brightness.

her thoughts causing her to block out the noise around her, she thought of home. and how utterly angry her mother and father would be when she gets back home. especially since at this time they would be checking or even escorting her out of her apartment and back home to their open arms in waiting.

she never complained, never argued, never fussed, kicked or cried when it came to them being over protective. she understood to her mothers extent that’s she means extremely well and wants nothing but the best for her.

but y/n never wanted to be grown up, wrapped in bubble wrap and closed off from the world.

y/n likes to thinks that’s the reasoning to her rebellious ways.

as she looked at the overview of the apartment window, aegon made his way over to him with a new blunt in hand and glass of wine in the other. y/n failed to notice his presence before he let his head place itself between her shoulder and neck, inhaling her scent.

‘i see you’ve taken a liking to the view of the city. seems like you haven’t seen a view like this before, which i would not believe’ he scoffed as she shook her head and crossed her arms. the warmth from his chest that was pressed against her giving her comfort in a way.

‘hm…you’d be right. i have seen views such as this. much better ones actually. your window seems to only capture the darkness and gloom of the city. i promise you there’s much better than this’ she grinned while tilting her head a bit more to the side as he started to kiss down her shoulder.

‘hm, really? then maybe you can promise to take me one day?’

‘me take you?’ y/n scoffed while turning around. swiftly and softly prying the wine cup from his hand.

‘i thought that was supposed to be the other way around, no?’ she tilted her head to the side a bit before taking a small sip of the bitter sweet wine.

‘you need more wine, sweeter—i can get you some if you’ll like’ she teased while walking up the stairs as he got a clear view of her ass.

scoffing and inhaling a bit of his blunt as he felt his pants get a sudden tightening, he reluctantly followed her up the stairs a bit farther than she actually was.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

‘then that would mean i’d have to give you something in return’ he hinted while she sat down on the bed with her legs crossed and the wine in hand, taking another sip.

‘did you just completely forget about your breakfast—‘

‘no i put it away, i was only making it to impress you—if breakfast is what you want let me get you something better than some heated up. how about breakfast later?’

‘later?’ she pressed up an eyebrow with a small smile as he got closer to her, him now being closer to her face as she uncrossed her legs and allowed him to slip his way in between them.

‘mhm, later—‘

‘well then what’s now?’ she looked down at his lips before his eyes, which he noticed and did the same.

he didn’t even have to reply before he greedily pressed his lips against her own which she was quick to follow with, her head being moved up a bit at the forcefulness of which he delivered.

as she kissed back more gingerly she tried to hold her grip on the wine to make sure it didn’t get spilt on the sheets. he noticed that her hand wasn’t touching his body as he would have liked it too which made him quickly turn around to grab it from her hand and place it on the coffee table.

when he went back to her, both of his hands held her face close as he slid himself closer to her between her legs.

groaning into her mouth, she smiled a bit before kissing him more forcefully as he followed her, the two of them in sync.

the next move he did—completely startled y/n. he let go of her face and grabbed onto her legs to have her sitting on his lap. both of her knees pushed against the comforter as he held her hips down his own.

her hands now holding his face, aegon gripped her hips as his breath quickened. she noticed this and decided to moved her hips slowly making him groan into her mouth which she swallowed with her kisses.

‘fuck—‘ aegon grunted as she started to move a bit quicker.

the intensity she was feeling had her get lost in them as she completely stopped kissing him but didn’t move her mouth away. except they were caught in an open mouthed kiss as he kept his slightly lidded eyes on her closed eyes that were focused and lost in pure pleasure.

aegon ached and needed to be plushed and wrapped around her warmth, pulling her body up and off of his hips to redirect her back onto the bed which drew out a frustrated whine as she lost her high—he hurried and pulled down his sweats.

‘don’t you worry, baby. you’ll be pleasured. you’ll cum being wrapped around me. full, and tight’ aegon grunted as she looked into his eyes and nodded her head. her chest quickened up and down with heavy breaths.

pumping himself to prepare as a bit of pre cum started to leak form his aching tip, he closed his eyes before pushing himself into her making her moan out.

‘shit…oh my—‘ she mumbled while he slowly moved in and out to fit himself around her pussy.

her legs wrapped around him just like the night before he quickly went to grip her thigh. his fingerprints making small dents in the soft plush of her skin. this causes him to be in her deeper, his soft tip lightly grazing over her sweet spot making her gasp.

‘keep going—harder’ she encouraged as he gripped his shoulders with a bit of force while he worked his hips to thrust into her own.

the skin to skin contact creating an echo in the room around them, y/n went to moan out as she felt her high peeking its way through only for him to place his lips above her own, making a sloppy kiss.

‘i’m cumming…i’m cumming’ y/n breathed as he got faster with more force—‘cum around my cock’ he told her—to him it was more of a beg, a beg to feel the tightness of which would be wrapped around him.

just as aegon said this she came, her pussy clenching around his cock, making him cum deep inside herself. the both of them cumming as he softly mumbled her name in her lips while she kissed him slowly and in a daze.

the moment was completely soft. warm and slightly wetted bodies pressed against each other as their chests grazed each other with each breath they took from the rise and fall of their lungs. y/n’s still wrapped around his hips that were unmoving, still attached to herself.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

after their shared showers which resolved into round two, the two of them got dressed in different clothes. aegon had clothes from helaena’s previous stays which only made up to her moving out and back with their mom who saw it coming.

y/n at the moment was getting her hair nice and done before seeing her parents which she knew was probably beyond worried sick about her for not being home right now. especially since last night.

y/n was later informed that a bodyguard snitched and exposed that y/n had left last night and never came back home.

jace and luke were blowing up her phone—mostly jace. of how worried they were and how mother was furious—her dad did his thing and tired to keep her calm given the fact she was known for blowing up with anger a lot so this wasn’t his first rodeo.

when she was done with her hair she hurried and rushed her items that were taken out of her purse and back into the bag, hurrying to her phone and putting it into her purse as well.

aegon has just now been getting out of the shower after their moment, he caught a glimpse of her slipping on one of her boots making him hurry and wrap the towel around his waist and rush to her side.

‘where are you going?’

she didn’t reply until her shoe was tied tightly—‘i have to get back home, my parents and brothers are worried…i’ve overstayed my welcome’ she mumbled while slipping on her next shoe.

aegon’s heart was practically racing. he’s very self aware that he’s only met her last night but he’s been trying to deny himself of being slightly enfranchised with her overall behind once her mother and brother told him about her when she was born.

he’s never met her until now and the moments they shared can’t just be overlooked. he’s done this countless times—more than he’d like to admit but for once he actually caught himself being actually interested into a one night stand.

he hoped the affection they shared with each other made it out of the bedroom.

‘no…no you haven’t you can stay for as long as you like—i don’t mind, i really don’t—‘

‘aegon..’ y/n huffed out while moving her white hair behind her ear that had fallen while she was tying her shoe.

moving next to him to where his chest was close to her own and his head looking down a bit to be eye to eye with her. y/n placed a hand onto his wet chest and she passed it lightly.

‘i have to go, and if this is meant to be something more…maybe we’ll meet again…’ she gave a tightly lip smile while looking between his lips and eyes which he noticed but focused on her eyes, her eyebrows frowning sadly a bit as she kissed his lips softly. aegon subconsciously moving in sync with her.

pulling away from him slowly which had him almost chasing her lips to be back on his she stepped back—‘bye’ she mumbled while gripping her purse around her shoulder.

he watched her form walk out of the bedroom in a rush and down the stairs as he stood frozen. unable to follow her, scared to actually see her walk out of the door.

the grip on his towel grew tighter as his heart burned for her. his eyebrows frowned with the distant thought of some imagined reality that she came running back into the room to wrap her arms around him.

seeing it wasn’t true, he knew what he had to do. he had to get her back. he had to get her back into his arms where she could stay, safe and sound.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

back at home y/n gotten one hell of a greeting. the second she stepped foot into the doors of her parents home her mom, rhaenyra ran to her and clasped her hands along her face checking her for any bumps and bruises.

daemon—her dad—did the same hit from a distance, seeing the way she stood a little limped and how y/n would subconsciously lean forward a bit, a bit odd to him since she never faltered in her stance.

‘where were you! i was worried sick! do you know how worried i was?’ her mom yelled as she gripped her face.

‘i’m sorry! i’m really sorry i didn’t mean to leave for so long, i just wanted to go out with a friend and thought i'd be home a little sooner but it got really dark and i didn’t want to be out in the dark since i know how much your warned me about it. i'm really sorry mom, i promise i am’ y/n held her moms hands that were still upon her face with comfort.

rhaenyra looked her in the eyes with sorrow and recurrence as she sighed and gave in the tough motherly act, bringing her daughter in for a tight high immediately.

y/n always loved her mothers hugs. they were the right amount of tightness and warmth that gave her the impression she was being loved by a weighted pillow or blanket. that’s what y/n used to call her mom sometime when she was a baby, her blanket.

daemon was the same, only he gave small, short and sweet hugs. sometimes even shoulder pats or a head pat which he mainly gave to her brothers. he was only really overly affectionate to rhaenyra.

sighing as she let go and gave a small smile to y/n who gave one back, rhaenyra let her go but not before giving her arm one last squeeze to send her on her way.

which y/n openly took and went to her room after daemon gave her a small hug and kiss on the head.

as she walked to her room she couldn’t ignore the fact that jace and luke were following her.

‘stop following me like a bunch of creeps, you could get pepper sprayed for something like that out in the open’ she mumbled as they scoffed and walked to her side.

‘where were you!’

‘you seriously fucked up your chances of living in that apartment anymore’

‘what? seriously?’ y/n sarcastically gasped as she looked at jace and rolled her eyes as he lightly pushed her making her laugh a bit, luke shaking his head with a smirk.

‘there's no way you actually went out and stayed out? where’d you even go?’ luke asked as they approached y/n’s room.

when she opened her door, they were quick to follow and shut the door behind them, ready to fully involve themselves into the juicy story they were about to be told.

y/n smiled to herself at remembering the night and morning she had. body of which made her spend a night that she would most likely remember for the rest of her life.

turning around as she took off her shoes, balancing herself out with holding onto the table that held small decorations.

‘well…i drank’ y/n looked as they let their jaws drop.

‘i danced and sang, i even smoked a little’ she smiled more as they looked at each other as if they were being told the most craziest thing ever.

‘what?!’

‘no way!’ they both replied as she laid down next to them on her bed, the two of them moving to be near her more while she laid on her back and looked at the ceiling.

‘mhm…i even met someone’

this made jace’s jaw open even more if it was humanly possible. jace almost flipped the bed when she told him.

‘what….wait wait—you met a guy?’ he asked lowly.

‘hey, it could’ve been a girl—‘

‘stop joking y/n did you actually?’ he asked. y/n noticed his worrisome eyes and sat up to comfort and ressure.

‘jace it was okay, nothing serious happened anyway…we only talked.’

and fucked—she mentally thought to herself as she laid back down next to luke who played with her stuffed animals.

‘do you even know his name?’ he tested as she shrugged.

‘no, i can’t remember’

its aegon…our cousin.

‘hm…typical. you better hope this type of news doesn’t get out in the open and back to mother. that’ll be the day she really changes on you’ jace warned before walking out of her room. luke took his sign to leave and gave y/n a small smile before leaving himself.

the words of jace giving her reason to really think of what she’s done and the extent of things it could ruin for their family.

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #house of the dragon #hod #fanfic #smut #short story au ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

[vi-trying-to-survive]

Couldn't Sleep

Anthony Lockwood x f!Reader

Warnings: None, its mostly fluff with a little angst 💖💖💖

Summary: Y/N couldn't go to sleep so she goes down to the kitchen hoping to find something to lull her to sleep but who else would she find other than Lockwood himself 💖💖💖

A/N: I really hope you guys like it, for some reason this was a little harder :') 💖💖💖 Also sorry if the updates are slow :') 💖💖💖

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Sometime she hated her job. The long hours, the working at night and the chance that she might die every night. Fortunately for Y/N this was not one of those nights, yet she still turned over in her sheets for the fiftieth time. She tossed the blanket off into a crumpled heap on the floor and stumbled as she made her way down the stairs. She blinked in confusion at the yellow glow that painted the walls of the hallway.

“Hello”, he grinned, tilting his head up to look at her. The mug next to him had gone cold far too long ago but he took a sip out of it, grimacing at the chill that it brought.

Her lips curled up at him, “Hi”. Wrapping her fingers around the warm silver handle, she poured out a mug of tea for herself. Taking a deep breath in she sighed, bergamot, lemon and lavender.

"Couldn't sleep ?", he asked.

"Mmm", she took a careful sip from the edge of the mug. Watching him closely, she noticed the dark circles under his eyes, the papers scattered haphazardly around the table. He seemed to be yawning every few minutes. "Did you even try to go to sleep ?", she wondered out loud.

He ran a hand through his hair, the ends sticking up in a disordered manner, "I um- I- Er no".

"Lockwood", she groaned. She brought a hand to rest on her hip, giving him a pointed look.

He turned his eyes back to the papers, shuffling them around unconsciously, muttering to himself, "Money is really tight right now, and I really need this job to pull through".

"I know but we need you at your best", she sighed, taking the seat next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, "And you need to rest to do that".

"Yes but-", he began, a half-hearted attempt, even he knew it.

She retorted, "But what".

He pushed the chair back, standing up as he paced in a circle, "I just- I need- We need this". He stuck his head into his hands, throwing himself back into his seat.

She bit her lip, it wasn't her intention to overwhelm him, but she worried, she couldn't help it. "I know, but I- I need you", she whispered, so softly, threading her fingers with his, tracing shapes with her thumb. His head rose, sharing a smile with her. Not his signature smirk, something more genuine, and a warmth bloomed in her chest.

"So, don't go dying on me, alright", she laughed, pulling him to his feet and leading him up the stairs.

He chuckled, "Alright", the messy, out-of-place papers and mugs of cold tea long-forgotten.

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She stood slightly out of his door, with just the smallest part of her foot in the room, eyeing him as he leaned on the doorway. They were practically centimetres apart but he didn't seem to notice, so she pressed her lips together, "Alright, I guess I'll see you in the morning then".

She was almost at the edge of the stairs, when he called out, careful not to be too loud in fear that he would wake the others, "Wait I- Will you stay with me".

"Um, sure", she shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, but her heart pounded in her chest. She could only hope he wouldn't notice.

They lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, a respectable distance between them. She drummed her fingers against the blanket, feeling very awake now and unsure as to what to say or do now. Her thoughts were soon interrupted, "You can come closer you know ?".

"Oh- sorry", she wasn't able to stop the heat that rose to her face, they moved closer to the point where they were almost tangled in each other.

He turned to look at her, "Y/N ?"

"Mmm ?", she nodded, adamant not to look at him, but the feeling of his eyes on her became too much to bear. She twisted herself to face him and she was only too aware of how close they were.

He glanced up at the ceiling, before bringing his eyes to hers again. Letting out a breath, he placed his hand over hers, "Thank you, for-".

"Always", she smiled, finally feeling the pull of sleep and she closed her eyes contented.

#anthony lockwood #lockwood and co #lockwood x reader #lucy carlyle #george karim #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood oneshot #anthony lockwood fluff #anthony lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood x you #anthony lockwood fic #lockwood and co fic #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co imagines #lockwood and co fluff #anthony lockwood angst #lockwood and co season 2 #cameron chapman #ruby stokes #ali hadji heshmati

[ruh--roh-raggy]

Heart of Wires (Sundrop/Moondrop x DCA!OC Piper)

Hello hello! Welcome to something new and different from me!!! This is my first time writing Sundrop, this is also my first time making an OC! It is with my greatest pleasure that I introduce you to Piper Belle Healy! This whole fic is going to be slow burn, super tooth rottingly sweet fluff. I'm just enamored by these big Bois, I wanna hold their hands and kiss them on the cheek. SO THATS WHAT IM GUNNA DO!! I hope you enjoy! Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

WARNINGS: None

You can find my Masterlist here!

Word Count: 3,985

Part 2

“Good morning!” The chipper blond welcomed her with a gapped tooth smile as she sang her greeting. “Piper, right?” The red head nodded in confirmation. “Perfect. I'm Meredith, everyone calls me Merry, I'm gonna be the one showing you around the Pizzaplex!” She motions for Piper to follow her, pushing through the turnstiles with ease before walking into the main lobby. “I’ll give you a more thorough run down after your shift, they never listen when I tell them to have you come tour the place beforehand.” She sighs, stepping onto an escalator and casually leaning up against the railing. “You’re going to be in the daycare, so you’ll be working with Sundrop. It should be pretty easy; arts and crafts, making sure the kids don't hurt themselves, nap time, nothing too crazy. Sun can walk you through it, anything you need, just ask him.”

“Some interesting nicknames around here.” She remarks with a lopsided smile. “Merry and Sun.”

“Oh, Sundrop is his real name!” She responds with a laugh. “I take it you haven't gotten to meet any of the animatronics yet?” Merry gives her an excited glance.

“No, I've seen the posters and stuff, pictures of them in the office when I went in for my interview, things like that, but I haven't, uh, met them?” She says giving the taller blond a look of confusion. ‘Why would I have to introduce myself to a robot?’ She thinks, quickly shaking the thought as she rushes to keep up. She approached a set of large, wooden double doors, the gold handles glistening in the low lighting. She holds the door open for her with a smile, motioning for Piper to walk in ahead of her. Piper fidgets with the sleeves of her sweater, looking around the room to see shoe cubbies and hangers for coats and bags about halfway up the wall. The faded paint was covered in drawings of kids standing next to who you were assuming to be the daycare animatronics. Both of them are tall and slender, one with a sun shaped head, the other a moon. The sun wore yellow and red striped pants that billowed loosely down his legs, you noticed most of the kids had drawn what must have been bells on his wrists and ankles. The moon was dressed similarly, only his pants had white stars against a dark blue background, a matching sleep cap sitting atop his head. She smiled, breathing out a soft laugh as she ran her finger over the waxy artwork.

“We could take the stairs, but the slide’s faster.” Piper jumps as Merry suddenly starts talking. She chuckles seeing the shorter woman’s expression, pointing to a tube that must have led down to the daycare.

“Slide it is.” Piper giggles in response. Merry grabs onto the railing above the slide, jumping slightly before flinging herself down the plastic tunnel. Piper hears the clatter of plastic below before Merry calls for her to come down. She excitedly hops into the slide, unable to stop herself from smiling as she rushes downwards. She yelps slightly as the slide abruptly ends and she’s flung into the waiting ball pit below.

“Sunny! I’ve got a new friend for you to meet!” Merry cups her hands around her mouth as she calls out in the massive playroom.

“A new friend? Oh, how exciting!” Piper hears a voice call from above. Her eyes widen as she sees a large clown with a sun shaped head spin out onto a platform overlooking the daycare. In one swift motion he dove from the platform and into the ballpit, mere feet in front of her. Piper scrambled to find solid ground, hoisting herself up onto the rubber mat covered floor, her foot slipping on one of the yellow pool noodle covered edges. Two sets of articulate robotic fingers wrap around the foam in front of her before the robot hoists himself up to his full height, she scrambles backwards, screaming as she bumps into Merry.

“It’s alright! Piper, this is who you’re working with!” She drops down to her side, shaking her slightly in an attempt to break her out of her panic. She froze, her chest heaving as she watched the golden points whirl around his face.

“You said he was an animatronic!” She exclaims, motioning rapidly to the human-esque figure in front of her.

“He is!” She exclaims. “The technology for him is very advanced, it’s something the owners have been perfecting their entire lives.” She explains with a smile. She looks between the animatronic and the nearly shaking girl in front of her. “Sundrop, this is Piper, she’s the new daycare attendant.” He stands there for a moment. His unreadable expression makes her heart race.

“New daycare attendant, hm?” He suddenly speaks, his voice was so expressive, if she wasn't so terrified of his monstrously tall stature Piper would've been amazed. He slinks closer to her, kneeling down to bring his face directly in front of hers. “I’ll warn you now, the daycare isn’t a place for amateurs.” She furrowed her brows at him.

“I’ll have you know I’m wonderful with children.” She sits up, he jolts back as she suddenly gets close to him. “I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t make assumptions about me considering you just met me a few seconds ago.” He seemed a bit taken aback at her sudden change in demeanor. Just a moment ago she looked so timid and scared, but now she looked like she was ready to bite his head off.

“I’ll let your work speak for you then.” He stands, grabbing her gently by the wrist and hoisting her up with him.

“Sun, play nice, she’s the best resume that’s applied for the daycare in a long time. Who knows, maybe you might even like her.” She smiles and winks at him. She turns to Piper, “I’ll swing back by here at lunchtime, I’ll help you find your way to the cafeteria.” She offers happily. “And don’t let him make you nervous, he’s a drama queen anyways.” She teases, making Piper giggle.

“I wonder why? It’s not like my programming was originally meant for the theater or anything.” He responds sarcastically.

“Show her around the daycare, give her a run down of the schedule, don’t kill each other.” She counts out the tasks on her fingers. “Think both of you can handle that?” They both nod. She gives both of them a wave over her shoulder as she heads off to get ready for her shift.

“So, we start off with free play.” He motions for her to follow him as he prattles on about the schedule for the day. He shows her where all the craft supplies are, where to find the adult-only tools like sharp scissors and permanent markers. He explained that during naptime is when she would meet Moondrop, “let him handle putting the kids down, he doesn’t like it when someone interrupts his system.” He explains. “Other than that, if you’ve worked with kids before, you should know what you’re doing already.” He sighs, obviously expecting her to fail from the start.

“I think I can handle it, don’t worry.” She squeaks with mock confidence, trying to find some way to change the animatronics tune towards her. “Sundrop?” He turns to her. “I’m really looking forward to working with you, I’m sure I can learn a lot.” She noticed how the whirrs and pings of his internal mechanisms grew slightly louder at her compliment. His eyes flicker over her face for a moment.

“Thank you, Piper.”

Piper watches as child after child comes down the slide into the Superstar Daycare. “Friends, if I could interrupt your playtime for just one moment, I have an important announcement to make!” She was pleasantly surprised at how quickly the screams and laughter of the children died down, Sun easily able to catch their attention. “Some of you might have noticed there's a new face around the Daycare today. I would like to introduce all of you to Miss Piper.” There was a chorus of small hello's and hi’s from the group. She jump as Sun suddenly claps his hands together, telling them all they could go back to playing. He strides up to her, her eyes trailing up his long thin frame as he stretches farther above her than anyone she had ever met. She guessed that Sun stood somewhere around 7 feet tall, compared to her short stature he looked nothing short of a gigantic. “Go grab the markers from the supply closet, I'll take care of pulling out the tables and chairs.”

“You know it wouldn’t kill you to say please.” Piper huffs before turning on her heels and hurrying off to get set up for drawing time. Sun can’t help but watch her retreat. Out of all of his time in the Pizzaplex he had never met anyone like her, staff member or otherwise. She wasn't afraid to speak her mind, that was apparent from the small little quips she had spit out at him. Granted, he knew he had a tendency to be a bit harsh towards new hires, but that was only because almost everyone they sent him was incompetent. It's not that Sundrop was mean, he was just a perfectionist. The Daycare Attendants he has worked with in the past didn't care about the kids like he did, they didn't have the same passion for the glitter covered stick figures they would be presented with. But there was something different about Piper. Sun saw how you immediately stopped when one of the kids ran up to you, stooping down to scoop the small boy up in her arms to head in the direction he was pointing in. A ball had gotten stuck in one of the rungs on the play place, too high for any of the kids to reach safely. He watched as she maneuvered herself carefully up the brightly colored structure, wiggling the ball loose before climbing back down. She hands the ball over to the boy, giving him a high five and praising him for asking for help. She smiles as the boy runs off to play with his friends. Her eyes meet Sun’s, causing her to freeze. She lets out a sigh of relief, smiling softly as he offers her a subtle thumbs up. Sun walks away, going to set up the tables for the next activity.

“What do we have here?” A voice purrs in Sun’s head.

“There's a new Daycare Attendant.” Sun mutters quietly out loud.

The voice groans, “another one? They keep sending us these stupid humans-”

“I thought the same thing. But she seems… different.” He explains, sliding the tables across the floor.

“So that's what woke me up.” He lets out a raspy chuckle. “I guess I’ll have to see what she’s like in a couple hours.” The warmth in the back of Sun's head dissipates as his counterpart returns to sleep.

“Sundrop?” He's snapped from his thoughts by her melodic voice. He turns to find Piper standing there with multiple bins of art supplies stacked in her arms. “I have all the crayons, markers, glitter, stickers, glue sticks, and stamps.” He smiles as he listens to her list off everything he would have grabbed. “I'm having some trouble finding the paper.” She admits bashfully.

“Here, let me take these.” The cold tips of his metal fingers brush against hers as he takes the stack of containers from her. He spreads them out across the tables before turning back to her. “Let’s go look for that paper.” She was a bit shocked by his response, she was waiting for him to start yelling at her. He didn't seem too keen on working with someone new, her not being able to complete such a simple task should've set him off. She follows him into the supply closet, he lets out a soft hum as he scans over the shelves. “Here we go.” He pulls out a pack of paper and hands it to her. It appeared to be at the back of one of the very top shelves, a place she couldn't have reached if she tried. “I'll make sure to get all the paper moved down to where you can get it.” He states simply before walking back out into the daycare, leaving Piper to watch him duck out of the closet in a state of confusion. He had seemed to completely change from the animatronic she had met earlier this morning, and she couldn't figure out just what exactly had spurred the sudden shift. She got everything set up for drawing time; separating the stack of paper into smaller piles to make it easier for all the kids to share, opening all the containers and removing a couple markers that had been left uncapped and had dried out. You heard the excited screams and talking of the kids as they ran over to draw. Sun had a child in either arm, a third clung to his leg as he moved in your direction.

“Miss Piper?” Her attention was caught by a girl with strawberry blond pigtails as she tugged on her sleeve.

“Hi honey, what’s your name?” She asks cheerily, kneeling down to be closer to the girl's eye level.

“Haley.” She responds with a huge smile, her two front teeth missing.

“It’s nice to meet you Haley, what’s up?” She looks bashfully over at Sundrop before her eyes immediately dart back to Piper.

“Do you think you could help me draw a picture for Mr. Sun?” She holds out the orange crayon she had clutched in her fist. “I want to make something for him but he’s really hard to draw.”

“Of course I can.” Piper smiles brightly at her, letting out a soft chuckle at her excited expression. Haley grabs Piper by the hand, tugging her back to where she was sitting, telling all of her friends that Piper would help them make pictures for Mr. Sun. She couldn't help but smile as her time was filled with giving high fives to all the excited kids as they showed off their drawings to her, drawing a quick Sundrop head for the kids to color, and being asked a million questions about her bright colored jewelry and fun outfit. Little did she know, the whole time Sun was keeping a close eye on her, absolutely delighted by what he saw.

“How’s everyone doing over here?”

“Sunny!”

“Mr. Sun!”

“Sundrop!” Piper looks over her shoulder to see the large animatronic had made his way over to where she was working.

“Is it okay if I sit here Miss Piper?” He asks with a smile, motioning to the chair next to her. He noticed how some of the kids must have placed stickers on her cheeks, her freckles laced with sparkly stars and neon smiley faces.

“Sure, Sundrop.” She smiles sweetly at him. He crouches into the comically small chair, his knees pressed to his chest.

“Miss Piper’s been helping us draw you Mr. Sun.” Haley exclaims, giggling when the animatronic gives her an amazed expression.

“Really? You all wanted to draw me?” They all clamored over to him, wanting to show off their pictures, most of them drawings of Sundrop holding hands with that child, ‘best friends’ scrawled across the bottom in messy script. “These are so wonderful!” He leans in closer to the group, they all copy his motions with wide eyes, waiting eagerly to see what he would say to them. “How about next you guys draw some pictures of Miss Piper?” They all silently agree before hurriedly turning back to their papers and crayons. He leans back in his chair. “I'll have to admit Piper, you're doing an amazing job.” She found heat settling behind her cheeks at the compliment, her eyes darting over to meet his glowing white ones.

“Thank you, Sundrop.” She smiles shyly.

“You can call me Sun, less of a mouthful.” He chuckles. “If Moon likes you you'll have passed your trial run.” There was a slight teasing tone in his voice.

“Well, lets hope for the best then.” She smiles at him.

She was grateful for nap time once it rolled around, with so many kids it was hard to find a moment to catch her breath. “Go pick your spot.” She shoos off a small boy into the other room, dimming the lights as they all settle in. She softly shuts the door, tucking herself away in a corner so she wouldn't get in Moon’s way. She wondered why she hadn't seen any sign of the animatronic all day. Her eyes immediately drifted to Sun as he stepped in the room, as he shut the door you watch his face spin around, all of the points surrounding his head getting tucked away as a sleep cap appeared. She blinked, the gold and red stripes on his pants suddenly turning to stars.

“You must be this new Daycare Attendant I heard about.” His voice was much raspier than Sun’s, he turned to face Piper, a noticeable difference in his face from the animatronic that had just stepped in the room in front of her. The moon on his face was much more prominent, the other side of his face being blacked out save for his glowing white eye. She was amazed at the complexities of their system, not to mention the immediate difference she noticed in their personalities, if she hadn’t just seen the change in front of her she wouldn't have believed this was the same animatronic. “You just sit back here, I’ll make this quick… and try to stay awake.” He chuckles before slinking off into the dark room. She heard the soft gasps and calls for Moon that he gently shushed, patting each child's head that greeted him as he made his way to the center of the room. The soft sounds of a music box beginning to chime filled the room, a tapestry of stars slowly rotated around the ceiling. Almost like magic Piper noticed the kids near her fall asleep one by one, every one of them in the room asleep by the time his song ended. She found herself yawning, pushing her round, wire framed glasses onto the top of her head as she wiped her eyes. She stretched, her spine letting out a soft pop as she pulled her arms over her head. Her eyes fluttered open, her hand immediately clapping over her mouth to suppress the scream that had welled up in her throat. Moondrop’s face was mere inches away from her own, he studied her closely, slowly crawling around her with almost spider like movements.

“I'm assuming you must be Moon?” She whispers nervously, his gaze didn't feel as judgemental as when she first met Sun, but he still made her nervous nonetheless. He offers her a small nod in response. “I’m Piper.”

“Sun seems very impressed with you Miss Piper.” He coos softly. “I do have to say you're definitely a lot prettier than the usual Daycare Attendants they send us.” He chuckles at her flustered expression. He runs a finger over one of the star stickers on her cheek. “The kids seem to like you too, that’s good.” He carefully maneuvers around her, propping himself up against the wall at her side. “How are you enjoying your first day?”

“It’s been good, definitely not what I was expecting.” She giggles, Moon felt a strange pang in his chest at the sight of her smile. She looks out over the group of sleeping children. “You know, that?” She makes a vague motion to the room. “Very impressive.”

“I have a bit of a talent.” He chuckles in response.

“Do you only come out for nap time?” He was a bit surprised by the genuine curiosity in her tone.

“I can only come out when the lights are off.” He explains. “Nap time, sleepovers, Sun and I switch off after hours.” She sat and quietly chatted with Moon for the rest of nap time, Piper found herself a bit sad to see him go.

“It was wonderful getting to know you.” She smiles softly at him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Piper.” The lights gradually grew brighter as nap time came to an end. The sleepy yawns of kids and soft giggles of them talking amongst themselves filled the room.

“Well, good morning!” Sun greets the kids cheerfully as they head back out into the main play area. She timidly makes her way up to his side, feeling a bit awkward standing next to the tall robot. “I take it everything went well with Moon?” She could tell by the softness his expression held that he already knew the answer to that.

“I hope so.” She smiles at him. “I don't want either of you to think I'm an amateur.” She mocks his assumption from the morning with a wink, making him chuckle.

“You definitely proved you're not an amateur Piper.” His hand gently comes to rest on the top of her head. Piper feels a blush spread across her cheeks as he pats the spot between her messy, copper space buns. “I'm sure they're all hungry, let's get them set up for snack time.”

“He hasn't been giving you a rough time, has he?” Merry asks as she hands you a tray.

“No, I've actually been having a lot of fun working with him.” She admits with a small shrug and a bashful smile.

“What about Moondrop?” She follows up.

“He was also wonderful.” You reassure her.

“I'm impressed.” She mumbles as she starts to grab things to eat. “The last three people they hired had already been run off by now.” She chuckles. “I guess they did end up liking you after all.”

“I can't get over how much personality they have.” Piper smiles excitedly.

“I mean, they might as well be people with how complex of a machine they are. They're fully articulate, their AI lets them experience emotion, they're pretty much just like us without the internal organs.” They both pay for their lunches and sit down. “So, now that you've spent a couple hours with them, do you think you’re going to keep the job?” She seemed almost nervous as she asked her.

“Oh, absolutely!” Piper beams. She hurries through her lunch, exchanging goodbye’s with Merry before she heads back to the daycare. So she wouldn't cause a disruption she decided to take the stairs down to the main play area.

“Welcome back.” Sun smiles at her as she approaches. The rest of the day flew by as Piper got dragged off by a small group of kids to go play. She couldn't help but laugh as she caught sight of a girl wearing pastel pink fairy wings riding around on Sundrop’s shoulders, pretending like she was flying. Slowly your group became smaller and smaller as parents arrived to pick up their children, before you knew it you and Sun were alone, cleaning up the disaster left behind. “I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot this morning.” He suddenly apologizes, nervously tapping the curled golden toe of his shoe on the floor.

“It’s okay, from what Merry told me they threw in some real pieces of work before me.” She giggles in response. “We can always try again tomorrow.” He pauses, straightening up to look at her.

“Piper?” She hums softly, her blue eyes landing on him. Sun felt the words catch in his throat for a second. He takes a few steps closer to her, retrieving a yellow sun sticker from the booklet he kept in his pocket. He presses it to the apple of her cheek, her soft warm skin squishing under his finger as she smiles at his action. “Welcome to the team.”

Tag List: @yellowbunnydreams @twelvelevens

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf security breach #sun drop #sundrop fnaf #security breach sundrop #fnaf sundrop #sundrop and moondrop #dca oc #dca community #dca fandom #sundrop x oc #fnaf moon #moondrop #dca moon #dca sun #fnaf dca #dca x reader #moondrop x oc #sundrop #sundrop x dca oc #moondrop x dca oc #sundrop x reader #moondrop x reader #sun x oc #sun x dca oc #moon x oc #moon x dca oc #sun x reader #moon x reader

[sebastianswallows]

The English Client — Seven

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: none

— WORDCOUNT: 2.6k

— TAGLIST: @esolean @localravenclaw @slytherins-heir

I

She called him at ten o’clock the next morning, right as he returned from breakfast. She sounded very excited. And scared. They agreed to meet the next afternoon not at the shop, but on a broad street from where they would walk to the Baron’s office. It all had more secrecy than a muggle dabbler merited, but Tom played along.

“Ready?” she asked once they were outside his building, a tall wide limestone white manor.

“As ready as you are,” grinned Tom, his eyes glinting. He was teasing her, and enjoying it far too much.

“Oh dear, I hope not,” she chuckled.

Its doors were as big as city gates, thick old wood with one much smaller door inset on the right. Above it in a shield of stone, a fat snake swirled as it ate a child, legs first. It was a biscione, the Baron’s sigil.

She pushed a button on a metal box beside the door, and a low voice answered on the other side.

“It’s us.”

The door unlocked with a buzz.

The inside was wide and sparse, a naked vault that rose high into the darkness, all cold corridors and decorous marble. There were no carpets, no paintings, not even chairs or tables, only stains and scratches on the stone to tell there ever were any. Golden candleholders clung lightless on the walls, replaced it seemed by fake-crystal fixtures that hummed with electricity.

There was a lift, but they ignored it and went up the stairs instead.

“I’ve been to mausoleums with more life than this,” said Tom.

She giggled. “He’s had to sell a lot of his family assets to renovate the shop. He could probably have them replaced by now, the last few years have been profitable. But I guess he prefers it like this. It’s just his way.”

They climbed the wide and stately stairs up and up and up, going past the first floor, and the second, and the third, and Tom began to wonder if the building was abandoned when a hollow noise came through. A steady murmur. A monologue.

They reached the fourth floor. She opened another door, the only one there between two naked walls, and they stepped into a vestibule.

It was a little livelier and richly decorated. Low red sofas lined the walls on either side, and a tall stove made of ceramic tiles was fixed into the corner. Bookshelves lined the walls, and busts of ladies in black marble were set against the corners.

In the centre, behind a tall imposing desk, sat a woman who nearly dwarfed it with her presence. She was flanked by stacks of papers and a telephone. Although her suit of blue and bronze was feminine in shape, Tom felt a bit emasculated. Her hair was pinned in a harsh style, slinked back and practical.

“Ciao, Berit! Come stai?”

“Bongiorno. Bene.”

“He’s still speaking?”

“Yes. You’re free to enter, silently.”

“I think we’ll wait here. Oh, by the way, this is Tom Riddle. Tom, this is Mrs. Berit Boveri, the Baron’s secretary.”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Tom, staying where he was.

The woman was impressive, and he wondered briefly whether this Baron had hired her for security rather than for answering his letters.

“Please,” she said, extending a hand in a quick, precise movement, “sit down.”

She appraised Tom coolly, quickly, before turning her attention back to the newspaper before her. An orange the size of a child’s head was cut open on the desk beside her, filling the room with a fresh scent.

The pair of them sat down, and Tom turned his attention to the sounds coming from the room behind them. A man was speaking in a low and shaky drawl, droning in Italian about what sounded to Tom like the Malleus Maleficarum, a compendium on witchcraft and demonology written by a sadistic German inquisitor in the 15th century. The silence of his audience was heavy and intense, chairs groaning now and then beneath their anxious squirms and ink pens scratching eagerly on paper.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered to her after a sudden thought.

“What?” she whispered back.

“About the nero di seppia… I looked a perfect fool all night, didn’t I?”

She giggled. Tom frowned at her.

“I warned you not to order it.”

“Yes, but perhaps next time I’d like an indication as to why.”

She was going to say something else when the doors opened, and the Baron’s audience ambled their way out. The air buzzed with their excited murmurs, some laughing nervously, some crying.

The pair of them got up, ready to greet the Baron. Tom looked over the crowd as they filed out, a mixed group of all sorts of people, from students to the elderly.

“Where is he?” he asked.

“He’s coming over,” she said.

“Where? I can’t —” He was going to say he couldn’t see anyone else, but then he looked down.

The figure that approached them was far from what he had imagined. Although not diminutive in size, the white and wrinkly lump that came took Tom by surprise. He sat, like a deflated balloon, in a stout but polished wheelchair, and was rolling toward them.

“Hello, Baron,” she greeted with a little bow. “Thank you for seeing us today. This is —”

“Come to my office,” said the old man as he rolled right past them.

II

The room was golden-lit with deep and intimate colours, as natural as an autumn forest. There was something to look at everywhere. The walls were dense with paintings and photographs in black and brown of little groups of men. The chairs were wide, majestic things with crimson wings and cushions. The carpet was a floral red, the windows tall and gilded. A crystal chandelier hung overhead, low and opulent and gleaming, and from a cabinet on the side a set of golden spoons with handles like rose stems shone among fine china glasses shaped like gaping koi. It couldn’t be anything further from what Tom was used to.

The Baron’s desk was small and delicate, overburdened with ink wells and notes, a lone lamp hard at work between them.

“So, how are you?” the Baron asked them once they were alone.

“Very well,” she answered, smiling widely. “And you, Baron?”

“Fit as an ox on the field, and twice as strong,” he answered in an imposing voice. “Is this him?”

“Yes,” she said, her nervous gaze flitting to Tom. “Should I —”

“Thank you. You may go.”

She nodded and turned without another word to Tom, her eyes lingering on his for just a moment as if to wish good luck. He watched her as she left like a chastened child, then turned his attention back to the old man.

“Pleased to meet you, Baron,” he said with a light bow. “My name is Tom Riddle. At your service.”

The man rolled his way slowly from behind the table, his face set in a frown — or perhaps the rolls of skin were so heavy that it was his fixed expression. He’d clearly been corpulent once, but old age and disability drained him of his strength. He stopped in front of Tom, the wheels almost atop his shoes, and extended his hand — to shake? to kiss? Tom had never met muggle nobility before… Although he was looking at him from two feet below, the old still managed to look down his nose at him.

Tom squared his shoulders, took a breath, and shook the Baron’s hand.

“Julius Eugenio Victor Agarda,” he introduced himself. His grip was still quite strong. His mouth seemed flimsy beneath a sparse moustache, and he spoke with a slight lisp — unless Tom’s eyes deceived him, he was missing a few teeth — but his eyes, a clear blue, had a steady gleam to them. “How do you do?”

“I’m well, sir, thank you,” said Tom, finally getting his hand back. “I came about the books.”

“So I’ve heard.”

With a flourish, the Baron directed Tom’s attention to the right, where a pair of doors stood closed.

“Help me with those, will you?”

Tom looked at him, feeling a bit puzzled, but he maintained his air of calm. He steadied the messenger bag over his shoulder and bowed.

“Of course, sir,” he smiled.

The doors were delicate and white, with carvings on their edges like a frame. Tom grabbed the brass handles and pushed. Beyond them was a large and sunny room in the same style as the Baron’s office but much wider. Its centre was dominated by a dark brown table and its walls with books. The east of the room was all tall windows framed by a thin balcony, and beyond that was the street and the canals.

“My most precious possession. My private collection.”

Tom rolled the Baron through, but quickly let go of him to stroll along the bookshelves without waiting for an invitation. They held every kind of esoterica, from the Corpus Hermeticum to the Grimoire of Armadel. Archidoxis was there, as was De Umbris Idearum, a book Tom had not seen since his first year at Hogwarts.

Others were more recent books, like a cluster on Bacchanal arts written in the 19th century. There stood among them also a well-worn copy of the Metaphysics of Sex. Tom curled his nose at it and looked over his shoulder with disgust. Some books were held in chains, with locks connected to the bookcase, and others were held safe behind glass panes, bright lights in the darkness.

“Impressed?” asked the Baron from the doorway.

“A remarkable collection,” said Tom as he turned.

The old man rolled forward with a peculiar twist of his heavy brows that Tom suspected to be pride. He went to one shelf in particular and reached as high up as he could, carefully picking out a volume. It was bound in leather so aged it was completely black, its spine capped in silver fastenings.

“Look at this,” the Baron said.

Tom stepped forward and carefully lifted it from his hands.

“Michael Psellus, De Operation Daemonum,” Tom read. “Byzantine books on demonology are hard to come by. It must be worth a fortune.”

“Seventeenth-century edition,” he said, slipping right over Tom’s praises. “One of five copies. They survived hidden among the volumes of Psellus’ Mathematics. Only the most important families of the time had access to them.”

Tom smirked. With the Baron’s toothless mouth and his scraggly sparse hair, he didn’t cut a very noble figure. “I don’t suppose you inherited it.”

The Baron took the book from him and set it on his lap, his fat hands folded over it. “I might have,” he said measuredly. “My family traces its roots to the eleven hundreds.”

A mocking smile played on Tom’s lips. He hid it with a timely bow. He’d rather not tell the old man he could brag of the same through Salazar, and so instead he said, “I’m honoured, then, to be in your presence.” But he didn’t hide as well as he meant to.

“Don’t be obsequious,” said the Baron tersely.

Tom straightened and looked down at him, steadying the strap over his shoulder once again.

“I showed my collection to you to illustrate a point. I have some of the rarest editions in my collection, first. And second, there is nothing that I want that I cannot acquire. Now, you may attempt to barter with me.”

Tom regarded the old man coolly for a moment, then took the messenger bag off his shoulder and placed it on the table. The Baron, after that little speech meant to humble him, had nevertheless given himself away: he may have had a grand collection, but he was still willing to entertain a nobody, a stranger, an unknown, for a chance at something rarer. A small man with a big ego and an insatiable hunger, Tom thought, I am well familiar with his kind.

“Then let me show you what I’ve brought for you today,” he said, “and you’ll tell me if it meets with your approval.”

The Baron went to place the books back on its shelves, and by the time he turned back, Tom had lined them all along the table.

There were six books in total. First was the Liber de Lamiis et Phitonicis Mulieribus, a 15th-century manuscript on witches and demonic possession. Then, the Liber Belial,a medieval grimoire with an unknown author, highly sought after and obscure. He took out The Grimorium Verum, an illuminated copy of The Sworn Book of Honorius, the Codex Palatinus Germanicus, and finally the colourful Le Livre de la Vigne Nostre Seigneur.

The Baron approached, retrieving from his breast pocket a thin-rimmed monocle that he perched upon his nose. He looked down at the books while Tom waited a little to the side, one hand stuffed casually in his pocket.

He picked the first one up, his old hands trembling slightly, and opened it, spine cracking. He threw his eyes over the frontispiece, then peeled away the first few pages.

Tom waited patiently as the Baron looked through the second book, and the third, and not a word was said. He could only hope the illusions he had cast on them would hold. It was difficult to even tell what the old bastard was thinking.

When the Baron was done, he took the monocle off, and slowly rolled to face him.

“Remarkable,” he said, his fat plum lips aquiver. “What vitality in these images… And The Grimorium Verum in particular I have been hunting for years.Where did you find them?”

Tom breathed a sigh of relief and grinned. “I’m afraid that will have to remain one of their mysteries. So, I take it you are interested in a trade?”

“I am,” he grumbled, taking from his pocket the list of books Tom had provided, “but it can not go forward.”

Tom cocked a brow. “And why is that?”

The Baron rolled forward and past him, going back into his office. Tom frowned at him and packed the books again before he joined him. With one last longing look at the vast library, he turned and closed the doors behind him.

The Baron was back behind his desk, stuffing a black pipe with tobacco.

“I wish I could,” said the old man, “but I cannot afford it.”

“I’m sure we could —”

“No,” he said, “I do not mean fiscally. I mean ethically.”

Tom regarded him without blinking for a moment. He searched the Baron’s mind for truth and found only a nest of brambles. Too many ideas, conflicts and confusion, plans that stood to shatter at the lightest touch. How much was going on with his little bookshop? Was it to do with that ‘auction’ he’d heard about?

“I don’t see how ethics come into it.”

“Nor do I,” chuckled the Baron with a puff. “That’s the problem.”

He fixed his steely gaze on Tom, and then he understood. Distrust. The old man didn’t trust him.

“Ah,” Tom smiled, “that is a pity.” He bowed, the books tight by his side. “Thank you, nevertheless, for your time. I shall be in Rome for at least another month. If your ethics should change, I would be honoured to be invited to see you again.”

“Be sure I let those books leave my office with a heavy heart, Mr. Riddle.”

“Oh, I know, Baron,” he grinned. “But you might yet see them again. And me.”

#Tom Riddle #Tom Riddle x reader #Tom Riddle x OC #Tom Riddle fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #sswallow;fanfics #sswallow;made a thing #fanfic;englishclient

[willalove75]

New Girl on the Pitch Pt. 5

Pairing: Rebecca Welton x f!reader

Summary: Your friend Keeley brings you in as the team's social media manager, Rebecca is impressed, in more ways than one.

Words:

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI

Tags: flirty, fluff, slow burn, smut

Notes: Part 5!

The next few weeks fly by, you and Rebecca do a pretty decent job at hiding your newly blooming relationship, minus the increasing suspicion from Keeley. Jamie was transferred back to Man City, you were surprised when you were disappointed when you heard the news. You had asked Rebecca about what happened but she just said it was contract stuff and didn't go into it and you didn't pry any further.

It puzzles you, but also in a way fascinated you how different Rebecca is at the office than when she's alone with you, she's almost like two different people. At work she seems more cold, she has more walls up, she's more closed off; when she's alone with you, the coldness melts away and her walls fall down and she lets you in. It's obvious that she only lets a very select few people see that side of her and you're grateful to be one of them, because that Rebecca is amazing.

The office is buzzing with its usual Monday morning energy as you make your way to your desk. You sit down and start making preparations for the day, making your to-do list, checking your emails and seeing what came in over the weekend, reading clients feedback, the usual.

A message pops up as you're working and you see it's from Rebecca.

Meet me in my office, I need to speak with you.

The formality of the message sends your stomach into a twist, although you know she's doing that because you're at work and she's trying to keep it professional. In a second you're up and out of your seat, you grab your notebook to save face in case anyone stops and talks to you and you make your way to Rebecca's office.

In Rebecca's office Keeley walks in, Rebecca is happy to see her and quickly realizes that she's pissed. Keeley shows Rebecca her phone with the pictures of her and Ted from the paparazzi's camera and tells Rebecca she knows that she's the one who set it up. Taken by surprise, Rebecca doesn't know how to respond and Keeley gives her an ultimatum: tell Ted, or she will.

Right before you reach the stairs to her office you see Keeley walking down them.

"Hey Keels!" You say.

"Hey." She says, as she walks past you, her tone is short and unhappy.

"Well that was weird." You think to yourself.

In her office Rebecca is seated at her desk, staring off into the distance, a concerned look painted across her face.

"Hey," You say as you walk in.

She snaps out of her trance and looks up, her face lights up a little when she sees you.

"Hey, come on in, close the door."

Rebecca stands up and walks towards you as you close the door, she meets you halfway across her office and wraps her arms around you and pulls you close to her.

"Are you okay?" You ask, looking up at her. "You look worried."

"No I'm okay," She looks down into your eyes.

You put your hand on her cheek and pull her lips into yours. Rebecca's body relaxes against yours as you kiss her, her tongue slipping into your mouth. A small moan erupts from the back of your throat and you feel Rebecca smile as she kisses you. Your lips part and you stare into her gorgeous green eyes.

"What's wrong? Something is bothering you, I can tell."

"It's nothing," she shakes her head "nothing important."

"Are you and Keeley in a fight? I saw her storming away when I was heading here, she barely said hi to me."

"Um, yeah, kind of, but it's okay."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

She shakes her head, you think you see guilt in her eyes. "No, thank you though love. It's something- something I just have to take care of myself."

"Okay, well if you need my help, I'm here for you baby."

"I adore you, so much." She says, looking deeply into your eyes and pulling you in for another kiss.

The kiss is interrupted by a knock at the door and you both quickly part, you quickly open up your notebook in your hand to a random page and pretend to show Rebecca something.

She exhales in relief. "Come in." She says, looking down at your notebook.

Ted walks into her office with his usual big smile.

"Mornin' boss! Y/n!"

"Good morning Ted." Rebecca says.

"Morning!" You say.

"Whatcha two workin' on this early in the morning?"

"Oh nothing, just a few campaign ideas for the final match of the season." You quickly reply, closing your notebook. Rebecca body tenses and you look up at her, her eyes glued to Ted. Something is going on with her and you have no idea what it is.

Ted gives Rebecca her morning biscuits, you three chat for a bit and he heads down towards his office. Rebecca relaxes as he leaves and goes to sit at her desk, you follow and sit in the chair across from her.

"You're being really weird. What's going on?"

"It's a long story, I'm fine, I promise."

Her eyes meet yours and you know she's hiding something, you want to help her, but you don't want to push too much so you let it go for now.

Rebecca is flooded with guilt as she looks into your eyes. How can she tell you everything she's done without you thinking she's a monster? She's anxious to talk to Ted about setting up the paparazzi and everything else, but the more she thinks about it, the more she realized how terrified she is to tell you. Her heart swells when she looks at you and she can't bare to make you look at her differently, or worse, hurt you.

There's such a big part of you that wants to pry whatever is bothering Rebecca out of her, but you don't want to push the issue too much. Rebecca goes into a meeting and you get back to work.

Back in your office you continue working as usual, the day goes by rather quickly and before you know it, it's time to head home. You head up to Rebecca's office and you find her at her desk resting her chin on her hand, staring off into the distance again.

"Hey." You say softly.

"Oh, hey, sorry I didn't realize you were there."

You walk into her office and sit across from her, you take her hand into yours.

"I don't know what's bothering you, or if something happened, but I want you to know, whatever it is, I'm here for you, okay?" You say, looking into her eyes. "You don't have to tell me what's going on if you don't want to, but I hope you know you can always talk to me, about anything. Whatever is bothering you, you don't have to deal with it alone."

Rebecca's eyes begin to gloss over, she stares into your eyes for a moment, wondering how she got so lucky to have found someone who cares so deeply about her. She goes to speak and suddenly looks over to the door and pulls her hand back. You turn around and see Higgins climbing the final step towards her office.

"Rebecca, y/n," He says.

"Leslie."

"Hey Higgins!" You say with a smile.

"I am about to head home for the day, is there anything else you need?"

"Actually yes," Rebecca says and you see his face drop. "I need you to review these statistics." She hands him a large stack of paper.

Unhappy, but trying his best to hide it, he nods and walks out with the papers.

"That can't wait until tomorrow?" You quietly ask.

"Nope." She says matter-of-factly, even though you're pretty sure she's lying.

"Why do you have it out for him so badly? What the hell did he do?"

Rebecca's eyes shift to you, an intensity in her stare grows as she looks at you.

"Alright, you don't have to tell me, I was just asking."

"Come to dinner with me tonight."

"Like on a date?"

"Exactly like a date."

"I would love to." You say with a smile.

Rebecca has her driver bring you straight to the restaurant from the office. The waiter seats you both and hands you menus. You both order and talk and laugh all night. Whatever was bothering her in the office seems to have faded because she's finally relaxed, smiling and laughing.

After dinner her driver picks you both up and she pulls you into her and gently kisses you in the back of the car.

"Stay with me tonight."

"I would love to, but I don't have anything with me."

"We'll stop at your flat, I'll help you pack a bag and then we'll go back to my house."

You gently brush your lips against hers. "Perfect." The world disappears when you kiss her again, everything about her makes you feel so relaxed, you can sit here with her forever.

The driver reaches your flat, you and Rebecca go inside and you throw a few things into a bag and before you know it, you're at her house.

Excited for the potential of a romantic evening, you go into the bathroom to freshen up and to pee. You realize you got your period and you groan, guess the romantic evening is going to be postponed for a bit. You get yourself situated and pull on the sweatshirt and sweatpants you brought with you and curl up next to her in bed.

"I got my fucking period." You say, disappointed.

"Oh no! Are you okay? Do you need anything?" She asks, concerned.

"No I'm fine, just disappointed."

Rebecca wraps her arms around you and kisses you on the head.

"That's okay, there's always next time." She lifts your chin and looks into your eyes for a moment before kissing you.

The rest of the night is filled with ice cream, cuddles, kisses and lots of laughter.

The two of you get ready to go to sleep and you crawl under the duvet on her king sized bed. You snuggle into her and she gently kisses you, stroking your hair with her fingers. The weight of your eyelids grows heavy and you look into her eyes once more.

"You're amazing Rebecca, I'm so lucky to have you." You nuzzle into her neck and she holds you tight.

"I'm the lucky one, love. Goodnight baby."

"Goodnight love."

The both of you drift off into a peaceful sleep in each others arms.

Your alarm wakes you up in the morning and you find yourself still tucked into Rebecca, her arms still wrapped around you, exactly how you both fell asleep. She shifts above you and you feel a kiss on the top of your head, you respond with a soft kiss on her neck. She hums as your lips make contact with her skin and she guides your face up towards hers. The sleep hasn't totally left her eyes as she lazily looks at you, she kisses you and your hand rests on her cheek.

"Good morning." She says.

"Good morning."

She holds you tightly before you both reluctantly get out of bed. Once you get dressed you meet Rebecca in the kitchen, the house smells delicious. You find her in front of the stove making breakfast.

"What is this?" You ask playfully.

"What? It would be rude of me to invite you to stay the night and not make you breakfast the next morning. Plus, I can't have my beautiful girlfriend go to work hungry now can I?"

"Your girlfriend?" You say happily surprised. Rebecca smiles at you and you walk over to her and kiss her. "I love the way that sounds."

Much to your surprise, Rebecca is a wonderful cook and you both enjoy the breakfast she cooked. Once you're both ready her driver brings you to Richmond.

"Wait, let me out the block before." You say as the car gets closer to the office.

"Why on earth would I do that?"

"Don't you think people are going to find it odd that we left together, and then showed up the next morning also together?"

You see the realization cross her face.

"Oh shit."

You compromise and you get out of the car before they pull into the carpark. You see Rebecca a little bit ahead of you down the hallway making her way to her office. Before she heads up the stairs you make eye contact with her and she shoots you a little wink and goes up the stairs.

For once you don't have any meetings so you're at your desk all day, finally able to dedicate more than just a couple of hours to your current project. You think back to yesterday and how worried Rebecca was, but by this morning her worries seem to have faded. It was peculiar, but you don't want to pry too much, it's too early in the relationship for you to be as nosey as you would like to be.

You text Rebecca to see if she wants to get lunch. A few minutes back you get a reply

Sorry love, can't today.

Unable to deny your disappointment you frown at her text, but you get over it quickly and get on with your day. Lunch comes and goes and you're back at your desk chugging along. The quiet of your office is a little unsettling so you pop in your headphones and bop your head to the music as you work.

The music drowns out the silence, and the rowdiness of the boys when they walk down the hallway. You see something shift out of the corner of your eye and you look up and see Rebecca with her knuckle on the door, as if she tried to knock to get your attention.

"Oh shit sorry," you say pulling out your headphones. "I didn't hear you knock." Tossing your headphones into your desk drawer, you look up and dried tears on Rebecca's cheeks. "Oh my god what happened? Are you okay?" You stand up and walk towards Rebecca who closes the door behind her. "Baby," you say concerned, holding her face in your hands. "What happened?"

Rebecca breaks eye contact and looks away and closes her eyes. When she opens them they meet yours and she begins to tear up.

"I have to tell you something." She says quietly.

Your stomach plummets straight down and you remove your hands from her face. What does she have to tell me? Is she already over me? Did I do something wrong? Your anxiety skyrockets as your brain is flooded with all of the possibilities of what she's about to say.

Tears fall from Rebecca's eyes and she quickly tries to wipe them away.

"You deserve so much better than me." She says, unable to look in your eyes.

The feeling of your heart beginning to break makes you feel like the air was stolen from your lungs, leaving you unable to speak. This is it. She's ending it with you.

She looks back into your glossy eyes, every second of silence is killing you.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry, I'm a horrible person."

"What are you talking about?"

More tears fall down her cheeks and yours dance on the edge of your waterlines, threatening to fall.

"I lied. You to, to Ted, to everyone. The paparazzi picture of Ted and Keeley? I set that up. Jamie getting transferred was my doing, I hired Ted because I wanted him to fail, because I wanted this club to fail."

Her confession hits you like a train, did she hire you because she wanted you to fail too? The tears dance over the edge and begin to fall down your cheeks.

"What, Rebecca, why, why would you do that?"

"Because this club was the only thing Rupert ever cared about and I wanted to destroy it, I wanted to hurt him, the same way he hurt me and I didn't care who I hurt along the way. Keeley and Roy found out I organized the photo and she told me I had to tell Ted and I knew I had to tell you too. Even though I'm so scared you're going to tell me to go fuck myself and never speak to me again. I needed to tell you the truth."

"Baby," you softly say. She looks up into your eyes and all you see is pain and fear, it breaks your heart to see her so wounded.

Rebecca begins to break down again and puts her face in her hands, you hold onto her arms and comfort her.

"I'm not going to do that, I care way too much about you to let you go. Did you hire me because you wanted me to fail?"

She pulls her hands down and looks at you.

"I did it as a favor for Keeley, but my plan was to sabotage the campaigns, but I could never bring myself to do it. There was something about you, I don't know what it was, but I just couldn't do that to you." She shakes her head and cries more, you get the feeling there's something else.

"Well, thank you for telling me love. I know this probably wasn't easy to do." Rebecca's tears don't slow, making you wonder if there was something else eating at her. "Rebecca, baby, talk to me. What's wrong?"

"He came into my office today, and he told me that he and Bex, they're, they're having a fucking baby." The pain you feel from seeing her so hurt is almost unbearable, you wrap your arms around her and pull her into you and she cries into you shoulder. "He always said he never, and now he's, and now it's too late for me." She breaks down in your arms.

Tears flow down your cheeks as you hold her, you cradle the back of her head in your hand and tighten your grip around her. She's mourning the loss of a family she always wanted but never got, you have absolutely no idea what to do or how to help. The only thing you can do is cradle her in your arms and try and make her feel as safe as possible with you.

Her breaths begin to slow and she begins to pull herself together. She picks her head up off of your shoulder and you look into her eyes, mascara smudged under her eyes, you bring your hand to her cheek and wipe some of it away with your thumb.

"I am so sorry." You say, caressing her cheek. "He's a horrible fucking person, I am so happy you're not with him anymore baby, you deserve so much better, so much more than him. You deserve someone who loves you, who cares about you more than anything else in the world." The next words you speak fall out of your mouth faster than you are able to process what you're saying. "Listen, I know this is still new, you and I, but I really, really care about you. If we keep going, if I fall for you as hard as I think I'm going to, I would give anything to start a family with you." As your mind catches up with your mouth you freeze, terrified that you just massively overstepped and just shoved your foot down your throat.

Your heart leaps into your throat as you look into her eyes, the anticipation of her response lingering in the air.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"You would?" She asks with desperation in her eyes.

"Yes, absolutely. I know this is going to sound insane, but I'm starting to fall in love with you. You have my whole heart Rebecca, more than anyone else has in my life."

Stray tears fall down her cheeks and she pulls you in and kisses you. Wrapping your arms around her neck you kiss her back, never wanting to let go. When your lips finally part Rebecca looks into your eyes.

"It's not insane, because I'm falling in love with you too y/n."

Her words take your breath away, you never expected her to fall for you so fast, you gaze into her eyes and passionately kiss her.

The final match of the season is finally here, Richmond vs. Man City. With the social media posts promoting the game queued up, you head to the game with Rebecca and the team.

Sitting with Rebecca and Keeley, Keeley admits that she's never really cared about football, but tonight, she says she cares very much, as she's eyeing Roy. Rebecca mentions that she forgot how stressful the game is when you actually give a shit and she looks over at you and smiles. Keeley gives the two of you a look and the both of you look straight ahead, avoiding her gaze. Higgins and his whole family shows up and you get to meet his wife and five sons.

The game begins and you feel Rebecca gently squeeze your hand for comfort, you can tell she's nervous, if Richmond loses, they get relegated.

Halftime rolls around and the score is 0-0. A penalty is called against Richmond, Manchester City takes the penalty and scores. The crowd groans and Ted puts in Roy Kent, a surprise to the crowd, and to both you and Rebecca. Jamie gets the ball and sprints towards Richmond's goal and Roy is able to catch up and slide tackle him. The crowd goes wild but quickly quiets when Roy doesn't get up. As you watch to see if he can get up the crowd begins to serenade him. "He's here, he's there, he's every-fucking-where, Roy Kent! Roy Kent!" A smile crosses your face as the crowd sings until he gets up and walks off the pitch and into the building. Keeley gets up and heads inside, you presume to go find him. Rebecca looks up at you and warmly smiles, you rest you head on her shoulder and she rests her head on yours.

The game continues and you hear thousands of phones going off at once, Palace won their game 6-0, all Richmond needs it a tie to stay in the premiere league. A foul is called on Manchester and Richmond gets the ball, the boys line up like an American football team does before a field goal kick and it confuses the shit out of everyone, including Manchester City. Zoreaux kicks the ball to Sam who kicks it across to Danny, Danny launches the ball into the net and scores, tying the game 1-1.

The crowd goes wild, you and Rebecca jump up and she wraps her arms around you and picks you up and spins you around. You laugh and gaze into her eyes, both of you getting lost for a moment.

You're brought back to the game when you hear the uneasiness of the crowd. Jamie has the ball and is weaving through the Richmond players, sprinting towards the goal. He looks like he's about to score but he passes the ball to his teammate who sinks it into the net with just seconds left in the game.

Disappointment fills the crowd, Richmond is officially out of the premiere league. You turn towards Rebecca, her hands over her face, peeking through her fingers; you see the tears welling up in her eyes. She looks down at you and you wrap your arms around her neck and hold her tight, she wraps her arms around you and you stand there and hold her, trying to comfort her.

As the stadium empties you and Rebecca leave hand-in-hand. She leads you to the car and you both head back to her house. Once you both get inside and change into pajamas you lay in her bed and cuddle. The disappointment is radiating off of her, you know she feels guilty, like this is her fault.

"Hey," you say as you look up at her. "It's okay, we'll get back into the premiere league, it'll be okay."

She looks into your eyes and you see the sadness.

"I feel like this is all my fault. If I wasn't so angry, if I wasn't so stupid-"

"Don't do that to yourself. What happened happened, we can't change what happened in the past. But we can learn from it and do better, and that's exactly what we're gonna do. You and I are going to relax and enjoy the off season and when August comes, we're gonna hit the ground running and kick some ass. Okay baby?"

Rebecca looks into your eyes and studies them for a moment.

"I love you y/n."

"I love you Rebecca."

She leans down and kisses you, your hand rests on her cheek and you pull her close. You're excited for the off-season, you and Rebecca will finally have time to relax and be together; you know by the time next season starts everyone is going to be putting in 110%. It's your goal to make the next few months as relaxing as possible for Rebecca, help her de-stress from the relegation and get her ready to come back and kick some ass.

#rebecca welton x reader #hannah waddingham #rebecca welton #willalove75 #rebecca welton fanfic #ted lasso #ted lasso fic #wlw fanfic

[liliumsabyss]

Almost(Sweet Music)

Light The Way Series

FEM DNI, I SWEAR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

Levi Ackerman x Male Reader

Word Count: 2.01k

Tw: Levi and Reader have Daughter, Daughter named after Hange Zoe, Deceased Reader, Spousal death, not during timeline after entire plot occurs, vague allusions to a fatal illness/condition, maybe oof Levi(?), Not a song fic, and essentially the entire thing is about grief

A/n: Daughter has black hair but readers eye colour so could be interpreted as related biologically to both you or if you have black hair than she could be only related to you or if you dont she could be just related to Levi and happen to have your eye colour. Or if your like me and she could be biologically related to both of you and you want her to be but you also have grey eye’s than and I would just choose a specific shade. Essentially her entire being is up for interpretation by you so interpret it how you want if your like me and overthink everything.

Levi walked into the small house that laid on the outskirts of the city away from everything. While the age of titans had been over the scouts had not been disbanded still having to clean up the mess of the whole war, Levi still held his high position but had double the paperwork so he often ended up returning home late. The man had large bags under his eyes marking his tiredness and endless hours of work. Walking into the house he slipped off his shoes but stopped mid action hearing a soft melody playing from the upstairs of the old house. A familiar heart aching melody, he finished slipping off his shoes and hanging up his coat before climbing up the stairs he walked down the wooden hallway to the third door from the end the door was wide open. The man stopped leaning against the frame of the door peering into the room. The room had scribble drawings across the walls as well as beautifully done murals also painted next to them, toys, paintbrushes, and other various items. In the room a little girl around the age of ten with long black hair splayed around her head and bright (e/c) eyes laid on the floor staring up at the ceiling, a record player sat near her head playing the melody that Levi both loved and dreaded. On the ceiling that the girl stared upon was a beautifully painted mural of said little girl only younger maybe four or five being held by the same man as the one by the door frame but there was another man holding her on the other side he had (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes and the warmest smile. The girl continued to listen to the tune and stare at the ceiling in thought.

“ Zoe you shouldn’t be up.” The raven haired male stared at the girl on the floor who at the voice bolted straight up onto her feet, her face breaking out in a huge grin.

“ Papa! Your home!’ She said barreling towards the man full speed, throwing her arms around him, giving him a huge hug in which he staggered slightly at the force before he returned it slightly.

“ Zoe,” Levi responded sternly looking down at her as she started to slowly chuckle in response, “ You shouldn’t be up. And where did you get that record?”

“ Well I may or may not have been looking around the house and stumbled upon it.” Zoe said nervously which Levi had known was a complete lie that she stumbled upon it for it had been kept in a large wooden box under his bed that held all other remnants of you.

“ Zoe I know that's a lie but we will talk about it in the morning. You need to go to bed.” The raven haired male said sighing as he lifted up his daughter carrying her to her bed as she snuggled under the covers. The man turned to leave the room when Zoe let out a sharp wait.

“ Can you tell me how you and dad met again?” The black haired girl said with a huge grin across her face that made Levi’s heart swell and shrink at the same time as he looked just slightly past her to see a picture of you with the same grin on her nightstand. Oh how much she seemed like you Levi could never fathom but the corners of his mouth quivered upwards just the slightest bit to form a tiny almost smile which didn’t get past Zoe seeing as her papa rarely had smiled ever but especially since you had been gone.

“ He was part of the scouts but the scientific reserve unit, we always noticed one another. It was just pointless to interact especially when I had to keep an eye on those brats but when I had an off day I went to a tea shop. All the chairs had been taken though except for one chair at the table where your Dad was sitting…” Levi started in his usual deadpan tone but a slight fondness creeped into his voice when he stated “brats” and “ Dad”. He continued on with the story until he heated a slight snoring looking down to see Zoe fast asleep. Levi put a small kiss to her forehead before he stood up grabbing the record from the record player and its sheet next to it as he walked to his room, closing the door and turning off the lights behind him. 

When he got to the cold empty dark room he had once shared with you, the bed remained the same as that day except his side had some wrinkles in the blankets and some in the pillows. He was about to place the record back in its sheet but instead he placed the vinyl on the player gently placing the needle on the outer rim of the disk. The sweet music started to play in the dark bedroom as Levi walked towards the open wooden box that sat on the floor, crouching down he peered inside to see your scouts badge, your certification, your ID, your favorite books, your sketchbooks, pictures of you and any other reminders of your existence. Levi gently grabbed one of the heavy books only to open revealing pages filled with photos, photos that were tinted beige and brown and others in black and white. The photos contained you in the earlier pages were photos of you when you first started as a scout as a teen and even a couple of you as a kid while you had little to nothing and lived on the outskirts of the Underground yu had a huge smile on your face. And as he flipped the pages you started to get older in the photos and then when you appeared to be around thirty the raven haired male started to appear in the photos with you, you juxtaposed each other him with harsh demeanor and deadpan look while you had a certain brightness in your eyes and a huge grin. And then when he turned the pages another was added into the mix an adorable baby girl with a scrunched up face black hair and sparkling (e/c) eyes as you proudly held her in the photos. Then the little girl slowly got older as Levi stared at the photos of you helping her stand and the photos of the three of you doing all sorts of things. But then before Levi realized it he was on the final page, a large photo of the three of you having a picnic by the ocean in which you had managed your largest grin your tired eyes squinting your frail body hugging the raven haired male and your five your old daughter who was holding up a shell proudly in his hands. Looking at the pictures with the soft melody playing in the back that you always hummed and convinced him to slow dance in the middle of the night after both long shifts reminded him just how much he had loved you, how he still loves you his heart still skipped a beat looking at you even after all these years of you being gone. And he slowly put away the picture book and records back into the wooden box before climbing onto the bed laying on top of the covers.

A couple of days later Zoe asked, more like demanded to have a picnic at the beach which in the past Levi had always said no since you had passed however for some inexplicable reason he had begrudgingly agreed to which Zoe’s face had lit up. When they got to the beach the overpowering small of the salt and the deafening crashes of waves with seagulls squawking unpleasant tunes bombarded the air. The raven haired male's stomach felt sickening being there without you felt…wrong. His breathing became rigid and uneven, his posture stiff, his heart racing, and his ears fuzzy as he stared out at the beautiful turquoise waters that were decorated with white seafoam and porcelain sand. The raven haired girl who had her iconic large grin on her face turned happily to look at her father who had been standing even stiffer then his usual demeanor. She quickly grabbed his hand causing him to flinch and look down at the girl in a passing surprise. Zoe tugged the hand of her father towards the ocean causing him to stumble at the force, almost dropping the picnic basket that he held in his other hand. She sprinted causing him also to run to get up to keep up with her. Soon she came to a startling stop as the two laid down the pleated blue blanket that reflected the color of the depths of the ocean. The off white sand shifted under their feet in a struggle to kick off their shoes to avoid getting sand on the cloth. Even still sand got on the blanket which Levi compulsively brushed off but instead of trying to get every tiny grain off he stopped after getting the majority off. The two chatted which was more of a one sided conversation of Zoe ranting about all topics and the raven haired male occasionally let out more of a response than a simple nod, shake of the head, or hum. Zoe started to slow down her rant eventually staring out at the ocean. The entirety of going to the beach shocked Levi, the sun warming his pale almost corpse like face as he finally started to look less like death than he did for the previous five years.

“ Papa you're finally getting some sun so you're less vampire-like!” The dark haired girl said giggling Levi only shook his head at the statement, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“ But seriously papa you look better than you have in years you’ve finally got some color back.” The girl said, staring out at the ocean, her eyes glimmering in the sun. Levi looked at her in a short surprise of her statement and followed her gaze towards the ocean. She then fo no apparent reason started to laugh kicking her feet so similar to you and Levi before he realized it he was laughing with her like he used to.

Once they got back the two listened to the radio at the makeshift dining table covered in paperwork. The drowning sounds of the radio made him think of you as you two would stay up late working on your reports side by side at the same table. You two never needed anything but the other's presence. But soon enough Levi realized the time and made sure to tuck Zoe into bed. Then he was alone. He walked outside to the back porch where the gardens you had so delicately maintained stayed maintained no matter how little free time the raven haired male had. He sat in one of the two oak colored rocking-chairs that sat on the porch. One was his, the other belongs or at least had belonged to you yet it remained vacant since you had passed. Levi sat thinking, staring out into the dark. Most nights, especially ones he had off he repeated this routine. He thought mostly of you and the lifetime you two had together which seemed now like yesterday but also so far away. The thought of it all did make him sad rather than his usual anger filled responses of course he would never let that emotion show to anyone well not anyone alive. However after the years had passed he had better nights without you where the thought of you made him nostalgic rather than despair. And that night after reminiscing of you he had headed up to the empty dark bedroom taking out the record and placing the needle on it as it slowly started to whirl to life playing the same tune it had nights before and half a decade before that. But when he got into bed instead of sleeping on top of the perfectly made covers like usual he climbed underneath getting lost in the warmth drifting off to a peaceful sleep, finally starting to heal after years of ruin.

#x male reader #male reader #male reader insert #levi x male reader #levi ackerman x male reader #aot x male reader #levi ackerman #levi aot #attack on titan x male reader #attack on titan #LiliumsAbyss<3

[dcforts]

[Steve and I]

5.9k. S09E06 fanfiction gap but Cas has a flat. Domestic, light angst. theirprofoundbond - thank you for all the work that you've done to help me with this one and all the kind words and you gifted me with. Read on ao3

Steve signed the lease a little over a month ago. It’s a second-story one-bedroom, in a building that is just two narrow flights of stairs, flickering ceiling lights and dirty carpets.

Cas doesn’t tell Dean that, he just gives him directions and points to a parking space out front. When the Impala quiets down, Dean doesn’t ask any questions and Cas is grateful for that. He fishes his keys from his pocket and leads him inside.

He says, “It’s a good neighborhood,” as they climb up, because that’s what you’re supposed to say. It’s what his landlady said when she led him up the first time, maybe to distract him from the cracks in the walls and the smell of laundry detergents coming from the laundromat next door.

He says that, even if Dean knows better than anyone that you can’t really be safe, no matter where you are, and even if it wouldn’t really make a difference for Cas who, grace or not, could still kill a man in the blink of an eye.

Dean follows him inside, past the little entryway and into the living room.

Cas turns on the lights and walks across the dusty carpet and around the coffee table to get to the window and open it. The cold evening air brings in noises from the street and allows him to breathe more easily. For a moment, in the dark and the musty air, it felt like being underwater.

Dean says, “Hey, it’s not bad,” only a beat too late. He looks around, nodding to himself. “Yeah. Nice, uh, couch.”

It’s a simply distributed space; if one drew it from above, it would resemble a square, divided up into uneven boxes facing each other in pairs. On one side the living room and the bedroom, and on the opposite one, the kitchen and the bathroom. Dean could tour the whole thing in fifteen steps or fewer if he so wished.

It seems even smaller with him in it now.

“Everything here came with the apartment,” Cas says.

It’s not exactly true. In the kitchen, on the wall just behind the fridge, there’s a complimentary calendar that he got from a shipment of energy drinks. Cas brought it home and hung it there, because Steve needs to pay attention to what month it is and what day it is—he has rent to pay, shifts at work, bills and deadlines.

Cas painted wards and sigils on walls and floors; Steve covered them up with dull paintings and soft carpets.

Nora gave Steve a succulent that sits on the windowsill of his bedroom. Cas only remembers to check on it when he is in bed, and he turns on his side. Most of the time, he’s too tired to get up again, says to himself he’ll do it in the morning, then he forgets again.

Cas doesn’t care about furniture; he doesn’t care about things. About the old couch that groans when you sit on it, about the low batteries in the TV remote. He doesn’t care about the dust in the empty flower vase on the shelf or the light in the bathroom that goes out sometimes.

Steve does. When he comes home after a ten-hour shift, the couch does not help his stiff and aching back. When he gets up at night to go to the bathroom, he has to be careful not to trip over things in the dark. Steve minds about furniture, about having hot water, a working washing machine and a window that opens all the way.

Cas doesn’t care about having a home, but Steve does, so now Cas has an address and a mailbox.

Steve needs so many things, some days Cas can barely keep up.

Dean is still standing there and seems unsure what to do. Cas can’t bear the sight of him in the apartment. This wasn’t something he’d ever planned on seeing, but nothing had gone according to his plans today.

He puts down the keys he realizes he’s still clenching and goes back toward the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?” he says, because that’s what you’re supposed to say when you have people over at your apartment. He’s seen it on TV plenty of times.

He stands in front of the open fridge and scans the shelves—the carton of eggs, the half-eaten burrito, the jar of grape jelly—and says, “I only have water.”

“Water is fine,” Dean says, his voice a little strained.

This entire situation must make him as uncomfortable as Cas is. He’d followed him to the threshold of the kitchen and it looks like he’s feeling larger than he is, one shoulder pressing against the door frame. His gaze wanders over the surroundings: the beige walls, the bowl of bananas and oranges on the table and the teaspoon on the edge of the sink. 

That morning Steve had used it to stir his coffee and then forgot to wash it. He was distracted because he was checking his mail. He collects it at night, but sometimes he’s too tired to look at it before bed and he leaves it for the morning.

Dean doesn’t comment on any of it. “Are you alright?” he asks, as Cas hands him a tall glass with his bandaged hand.

“It’s just a cut.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Dean says.

Cas walks past him. “I’m fine.”

He goes back to the entryway to take off his shoes and put them away and he feels Dean watching him from around the corner. He senses that he has no intention of letting go of the conversation.

“That angel—he came for you, didn’t he?”

Cas sucks in a breath. He’d known the question was coming; he’d spent the silent journey over dreading it and wondering how much Dean had heard of his conversation with Ephraim. He really doesn’t want to talk about what he said; he doesn’t even want to think about it.

“Because you’re in pain,” Dean adds.

Cas keeps his eyes on the ground and wonders if Dean is thinking about that night not that long ago, when he’d confessed how much guilt he was carrying. I might kill myself.

“He was mistaken.”

Dean doesn’t buy it. “So you’re fine. We’re gonna leave it at that?” he insists.

Cas fixes his eyes on the pea-green wallpaper in front of him. “Ephraim is gone and I’m tired. I’ve got work in the morning.”

“Right, yeah,” Dean says, sounding weird again. He shifts on the spot, looks down at his water. “I should, uh—” 

Cas doesn’t meet his eyes but he says, “You can stay. The couch is a pull-out.”

Dean says okay, then, even though there’s a motel room already paid for with all his stuff in it. He says okay, even though the living room window doesn’t have blinds or curtains to keep the light out and Cas has no spare pillow.

Cas goes over to the couch and starts removing the cushions. 

“You don’t need to do that,” Dean says, but Cas doesn’t stop maneuvering the coffee table out of the way.

“You have a long drive tomorrow.”

And there’s that.

There’s a big blinking neon sign on the other side of the street that paints Cas’ bedroom walls in red and pink and purple. Cas rarely bothers with turning on the lights in this room. The landlady promised to get Steve some heavy curtains, but she hasn’t come back yet. Cas doesn’t mind. One night the sign was down for maintenance, and he had trouble falling asleep without its constant shifting colors.

He’s looking for clean sheets while Dean uses his little bathroom, and then all of a sudden he’s standing in the doorway, as if hesitant to come in for some reason. He’s only in his jeans.

“Do you have a T-shirt I could borrow?”

Cas goes to the dresser where Steve keeps his T-shirts—he’d paid ten dollars for a pack of three—and picks a dark one for Dean. He smells of the shower gel with the tropical fruit on the bottle.

Cas got it because the ads say it will nourish and soften his skin and Steve’s skin gets dry when it’s windy. He also has shaving cream in the cabinet, a razor, a toothbrush, a box of bandaids. Sometimes Cas stops and looks at Steve in the mirror and asks himself if he’ll ever get used to it, to being this, just this. Sometimes he lies in bed and watches the ceiling change colors and wonders how long he will need to wait before he stops feeling fragile.

“Do you want me to take a look at that?” Dean asks, gesturing with his chin to his bandaged hand.

“I’ll do it,” Cas says and he knows this rejection will unnerve Dean more than his refusal to talk. He reminds Cas of a bug bumping against a window, but Cas isn’t ready for him to take a look inside yet, let alone come in. 

Dean clenches his jaw for just a moment, then lets it go. Cas follows him to the living room with clean sheets in his arms and makes the pull-out bed while Dean pokes around in his kitchen, with the excuse of getting another glass of water. Cas hears him open cabinets and pull out drawers. It seems like it didn’t take him long to make himself at home.

Cas isn’t sure he likes that.

Maybe it’s because it still hurts. When he got to the bunker, he’d thought that he had nothing to worry about anymore, and what he had gone through since the fall had just been a rocky journey to get back home. He wasn’t alone, he had simply been misplaced, but now he could rest.

He’d been naive. Dean had made it clear that he didn’t belong there, and it was a confusing truth he had to learn to accept. And yet, it still hurts. He’d thought it didn’t anymore; he’d thought the bitterness had left him but maybe it doesn’t happen like that. Maybe it lingers and lingers. You think it’s gone, but it’s not. Maybe he won’t ever be rid of it.

Cas thought he had been hurt before. For sure, he had felt sorrow and disappointment.

But the open wound inside his chest is a crater, and it’s swallowed him, and he has to make his way back out and he’s not sure he’s there yet.

He’s exhausted though, especially tonight, with the things Ephraim said still ringing, true and inevitable, in his ears.

Dean pops his head through the kitchen door. “Do you cook?”

“Occasionally.”

“Really?” He sounds surprised. “What d’you make?”

“Eggs.”

Steve likes eggs in the morning, with coffee—two sugars. But not orange juice. It makes his stomach burn for hours. He breaks and scrambles one egg in a pan with butter and pepper. Some days, Steve is so tired the eggshell breaks in small pieces and the kitchen gets dirty, and sometimes he wakes up late and rushes through the door. He eats a donut at work—but only the pink kind. The chocolate ones have a weird aftertaste.

“That it?”

“I have lunch at work, and I buy something for dinner on the way home.”

And if he’s too tired to stand in line or doesn’t feel like eating anything, there’s always peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

Dean nods thoughtfully.

Cas thinks he’s passed some sort of test, but maybe not with the highest of grades, because Dean adds, “You— I mean, you’re eating enough, right?”

Oh, so he does worry.

Cas thinks of that time he’d had expired food and stayed awake the whole night:  his stomach cramping, face pressed against the cool surface of his bathroom tiles, dreading the next wave of nausea, thinking he was going to die, his thumb hovering over Dean’s name in his contacts more times than he feels comfortable remembering. Wishing to hear his voice.

Not calling.

“I think so,” Cas says.

Dean slips out of his jeans and sits on the edge of the bed that groans under his weight.

Cas should go and take care of his hand. Steve needs to sleep; he has tomorrow’s opening shift. New products to shelve and customers to serve. Usually at this time of night, Steve has already turned in.

But when he starts for the bathroom, Dean says, “Hey, wait,” and Cas has no choice but to stop, because Dean is here now, in the middle of his living room, and Dean unbalances everything.

“You don’t wanna talk about it—that’s fine. I just wanna say that whatever Ephraim told you, you don’t need to listen to him. You got a good thing going here. You got a job, you got a place for yourself. You got a chance to get out. Like, really get out.”

Something colors Dean’s voice that makes Cas suspicious. He doesn’t want to start a conversation, but he can recognize when Dean’s trying to say something without saying it.

“I have a responsibility toward my kind. Even if I can’t do much, I should try.”

“I know,” he says, but he’s fidgeting. “It’s just too dangerous out there right now. You said it yourself: after what happened with Metatron, angels are all over, looking for you.”

Cas holds his gaze and doesn’t say anything. Dean blinks one too many times. There’s something he’s not telling him, Cas knows.

“I’m just saying,” he starts again, and goes on as if he’s choosing his words carefully. “I get that you want to make things right, but maybe you can wait a little longer?”

His words hang in the air. Cas studies the way Dean’s eyebrows arch over his eyes, the tight lines around his mouth. He’s still convinced he can hide things from Cas, maybe now more than ever, but Cas sees him. Dean always forgets that.

“What is it?” Cas finally asks, fixing his gaze on Dean.

That’s all it takes. Dean sighs and it’s as much as a confession.

“Crowley said there’s no reversing the spell,” he says then, and he looks like he’s bracing himself for Cas’ reaction.

Somehow though, it doesn’t come as a blow. It doesn’t hurt him, it doesn’t shake his world. Cas registers Dean’s words and he surprises himself by thinking that he’s not broken by them.

He never expected that it would be easy for things to go back to they were.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t go back,” he reasons. “We can still find a way.”

“So you wanna go back.”

Cas is taken by surprise, not so much by his words, but by the way Dean blurts them out, almost as if they had escaped before he could control them—urgent, as if he could be directly affected by his choice. Cas can’t understand what difference it makes to Dean if Cas is on Earth or not, when he’s the one who sent him away in the first place.

“I don’t want to be trapped,” he says, a kind way out of a reply, and he feels his good hand close in a fist. This is not where he was supposed to be, where he was born to be.

Of course, he doesn’t want to leave Earth—not forever. Even back when he’d thought he was closing the Gates of Heaven, he was leaving because he had no other choice, and coming to terms with that was one of the hardest things Cas had ever done.

Dean acts as if he doesn’t know that, and maybe he really doesn’t. But Cas is still in pain and won’t clear that up for him; he won’t show himself needy of his company and his time.

“Yeah, no, I get that,” Dean says, but he sounds like he got the opposite of what Cas was trying to say. Cas won’t correct his misunderstandings. Not tonight. He’s feeling weak enough.

Cas leaves the room; there is not much else to say.

The springs of the mattress Dean is sleeping on groan whenever he moves.

Cas hears him from his bedroom. They groan and groan and groan. It makes it impossible for Cas to relax enough to fall asleep, even though he’s exhausted and the wound on his hand has started throbbing again.

He’d disinfected it and wrapped it in clean bandages, but he doesn’t have any painkillers, so he grinds his teeth and hopes it’ll be morning before he realizes.

The mattress groans and groans and then, when Cas resigns himself to the fact that he won’t get any sleep, the sound suddenly stops. Dean could have managed to fall asleep but somehow Cas doesn’t think that’s the case. The hair on the back of his neck stands up when he hears Dean’s footsteps coming toward his bedroom.

There’s a moment of silence and Cas doesn’t dare turn around. Then the bathroom door shuts and he lets out a breath.

The toilet flushes a few moments later, the door opens, and again, silence.

Cas frowns, rolls onto his back to find Dean standing there, just a dark silhouette in the door in the purple light—still behind that invisible wall that won’t let him cross the threshold.

“Dean?”

“Oh, you’re awake,” he says, “Sorry, uh, I can’t sleep on that bed so…”

The neon blinks in pink and Cas notices Dean’s wearing his jeans again. The thought of him slipping into the night, and Cas finding nothing but an empty apartment in the morning, has his heart pounding in his chest.

“You can sleep in here,” he says, and his voice sounds broken and loud.

“Uh, you don’t ha— I’ll be fine on the floor with just an extra blanket or something.”

The color in the room changes again. Dean wasn’t going to leave. Cas is confused by his emotions; his heart won’t behave, his ears start ringing, his insides burning. He didn’t want him here in the first place, so why does the thought of him going away hurt so much?

“I don’t have an extra blanket,” he says in the end, and then scoots over and gives him his back. “It’s late,” he adds and hopes it’s enough to end the conversation.

“Alright,” comes Dean’s voice, and then there is the sound of footsteps, his jeans hitting the floor and then the comforter is lifting, the mattress sinking.

Cas still can’t relax. Not when he can feel the tension in the room, Dean’s body rigid on the bed and his intakes of breath telling him that he’s getting ready to speak.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

“Cas?” 

Cas had thought he wanted an apology from Dean more than anything.

He thought about it at night, imagined what he would say if he called, if he wrote it in a text message, if he showed up at his door. But when Dean says, “I’m sorry,” right there and then, Cas realizes he doesn’t need it anymore. He has forgiven him already.

“I know I let you down,” Dean says, “I should be here for you.”

And Cas had thought about what to say to him a million times. To make him feel worse, to spike his guilt, to reject him completely.

He can’t do it. He’s never wanted to be one of the things Dean blames himself for. He won’t be one of them tonight, either.

There’s an open wound inside his chest, but telling Dean how much he’d hurt him would only make it deeper.

He says the only thing that feels true. He says, “I’m not mad.”

“You’re not okay though, are you?”

Cas doesn’t know if he can find the right words to explain how he feels. 

He rolls onto his back, fixes his eyes on the ceiling and watches it as it changes: red, purple, pink, and red again.

He tries, “I’m not myself.”

Dean shifts on his spot and now he’s looking at him. Cas can feel his gaze and knows Dean is frowning.

“What do you mean?” It comes as a whisper, worry bracketing each of his words.

“I don’t know who I am.”

“You’re Cas,” Dean says with a familiar high note of stubbornness and confusion.

That’s probably what does it. Cas’ lips start trembling, his eyes prickling. There’s a sudden lump in his throat, his chest starts hurting, and then there are hot tears spilling from the corners of his eyes, rolling down his temples and disappearing into his hair. The tickling sensation on his skin and in his nose is not entirely unpleasant, but he has to keep swallowing and can’t bring himself to talk.

Dean sees all of it. He stays absolutely still but when he speaks, every word is soaked in a softness that makes him feel even closer than he is.

“You’re still an angel. Without grace, okay, but that doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change who you are,” he says, and he sounds like he knows for sure.

Cas knows this is hard on Dean. To see his tears and to know that this time he can’t say what he usually says: I’ll take care of it, I’ll figure something out, Let me handle this. Because tomorrow he’ll be gone. He’ll hop in his car and drive away, and nothing will change that. So he can’t take Cas' burden now, like he always tries to do, like he does with everyone else.

“You’re still you,” he keeps going. “And you know, I really meant what I said earlier. You are doing one hell of a job, managing all this on your own. Being human sucks. Like, truly, sucks. Of course you hate it.”

Dean’s words have a tentative lightness to them and Cas knows he’s trying to cheer him up so he makes an effort to smile. He takes a deep breath and glances at him.

“I don’t hate it,” he says, his voice still a little broken. “I just…  want my grace back. I want to feel like myself again.”

Cas doesn’t look away from him and doesn’t move a muscle, not even when Dean says, “Okay,” and reaches out with one hand to rub away a tear on his temple. The touch is unexpected, and Cas eyes’ close on their own for a moment. Dean is serious now. “We’ll get it back.”

In Dean’s eyes Cas finds something that, incredibly, resembles understanding. Does he understand? Is he comparing Cas’ grace being ripped from him with the bite of the Hellhounds tearing him apart? Is he thinking of Hell consuming his soul? Is he thinking of losing Sam?

Cas doesn’t know, but somehow the understanding is there, and there’s no need for him to say more. 

“I’ll start looking as soon as I get back, okay?” Dean says.

Cas nods and his tears are replaced with a calm certainty: that Dean is here, that he himself is not completely lost, that there’s a possibility to feel whole again. He doesn’t even remember how he could have thought everything was so hopeless.

“Okay,” he says, and worries that he will feel silly and ashamed once Dean turns around again, and the moment will be gone. But Dean stays where he is. He settles down on his side with his head on his arm because the only pillow is too small for the both of them.

“You’ll be alright,” he says, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing once. Next to Dean, Cas believes it.

Slowly, Dean’s breathing evens out. The rhythm is so familiar that Cas' body relaxes to it. He has lost count of how many hours he spent in a dark room with this sound, back when he used to watch over him while he slept.

Cas lets out a deep breath and closes his eyes. Then he feels it—a touch on his shoulder again, Dean’s fingertips on the fabric of his sleeve, then the same featherlight touch of a knee against his bare thigh, right below the hem of his boxer shorts. No real pressure, just a light contact, but it starts a gentle prickle that travels through Cas’ body and fills his chest and limbs. He’s never felt anything like it.

Cas keeps his eyes closed and his body still and he falls asleep like that, thinking that Dean has never been close to him like this before. Whether it’s chemistry or instinct, maybe it’s now and it’s here, because somehow humanity makes him more accessible, more recognizable to Dean: the warmth of his skin, the smell of his body, the beating of his heart.

And so maybe there is, at last, something Cas can be grateful to Steve for.

It’s not quite morning when Cas wakes up. He doesn’t need an alarm. Even when Steve gets a day off, Cas still wakes up very early.

He doesn’t like lingering in bed for too long, because his mind gets busy with thoughts and memories, and he has to occupy his hands to make them go away. But Steve needs his rest on his days off, so Cas stays under the blanket until his bladder or his stomach start complaining.

This morning, his limbs feel heavy and his nose is stuffy, and he can’t remember why. 

He reaches out to grab his phone and check the time, and it’s the hand with the bandage that reminds him what happened the day before.

It reminds him that this morning is nothing like every other morning, that there’s someone lying next to him, and that someone is Dean. He can feel the heat of his body warming his back.

He sits up on his side of the bed and only then dares to look over his shoulder. Yes, Dean is still there, asleep on his stomach, one arm bent under his head, Cas’ shirt stretched over his shoulders.

Dean probably senses his gaze, because he opens his eyes and looks back at him, his signature morning pout on his lips.

Cas thinks he must make quite a sight; with the window behind his back, he must be just a silhouette against the weak morning light, his hair sticking up, his clothes wrinkled.

He wants to speak, but he’s forgotten the first thing people usually say to each other in the morning.

Dean’s brain must still be foggy because he doesn’t comment on the fact that Cas is just staring at him. After a moment, he blinks and yawns and lets out a mumbled “You got a really nice bed,” as if it isn’t just a mattress and a metal frame.

“Thank you,” Cas says, and only then remembers that what he was supposed to say was, Good morning.

It’s too late now, but it doesn’t seem to matter.

“What time is it?”

“Five-thirty.”

Dean smiles in bliss. His eyes are glassy. “I haven’t slept six hours in a long time.” He yawns again. “You getting up?”

“Yes, but you can stay longer,” Cas says. “I’m going to get dressed.”

Dean nods and rubs his face and then follows Cas with his gaze while he gathers things around the room.

“I’ll be up in a sec. I’m gonna make you eggs,” he says.

He’s pulled Steve’s pillow to his side and made himself comfortable again, stretching his legs and taking up space. Cas can’t resist turning to watch him from the door. He looks like a dream in the early morning light.

Dean’s eyes are still on him and Cas suddenly feels exposed, with his bare thighs and calves. He’s seen Dean in various states of undress plenty of times, but he’s not sure Dean’s ever seen him, and he doesn’t know what it means that he’s watching.

“Okay,” Cas agrees. After last night, it’s an easy concession to make. The corner of Dean’s mouth quirks up, and Cas feels himself mirroring him. 

Dean is a great cook. Cas has heard him boast about it in the past, but this is the first time that he’s tried his cooking.

His eggs are good, more savory and less runny than his, and they come with toast.

“I never have toast with my eggs,” Cas comments.

“What’s with all the bread, then?”

“It’s for PB&J.”

That makes Dean snort a laugh. He’d moved the bowl with the fruit to the counter next to the sink and poured coffee into two mismatched mugs. Now, he sits across from him and digs into his plate. 

He’s already dressed, shoes on too. Cas doesn’t mention that he’s still wearing the T-shirt he borrowed. He’s pretty sure the black one he had on before is still where he left it, on the hook behind his bathroom door, and he wants to keep it that way.

The time is running out and he doesn’t know how to convince himself there’s no point in wishing it could stop.

“You can use bread to do lots of things,” Dean is saying. “Ever had French toast?”

Cas shakes his head.

“Alright, I’ll make you some next time.”

“Next time?” Cas repeats, almost losing his grip on the mug he’s bringing to his lips.

Dean puts down his fork, picks it up again, avoids his gaze. “I just thought— It’s not that I want to bring the bad guys to your door, obviously, but maybe I could slip out here sometimes. I’d be careful.”

Cas' face must be asking, Why?, because Dean rushes to add, “Just, you know, to see how you’re doing.” He massages one of his thighs out of nervousness, then in a light tone, he says, “First thing, I’m buying you groceries, replacing that couch, and fixing the light in the bathroom.”

Cas puts down his coffee mug, anger rising in his chest. “No.”

Dean hadn’t expected that. His face crumbles all at once, showing hurt and confusion. “Wh—?”

“You can come here, but as a friend. I don’t want a caretaker.”

“What?” he exclaims in disbelief. “I didn’t say that.” 

“I’m serious, Dean.” Cas clenches his jaw; this is the last thing he wanted. “I don’t need your pity and I don’t need you to parent me.”

Dean’s eyes widen. “That’s not what I meant!” he says, raising his voice. He gets up and circles around his chair, taking a moment to calm down. “Jesus, Cas, I don’t wanna be your parent. I know you don’t need me, I just—” He sighs, frustrated, shakes his head. “I— I didn’t mean that,” he says, looking up at him like he does sometimes when he wants to say something but doesn’t know how.

Cas knows that look. It takes all the fight out of him. Without the anger, all that’s left is the knowledge that Dean might come back and this might not be the only morning they spend in this kitchen. It’s an unbearable thought, difficult to grasp—almost as difficult as it had been to imagine Dean here before yesterday. “Well then, in that case, it’s fine, I’d like that,” Cas says, and Dean deflates in front of him like a balloon. 

Cas takes the dishes to the sink, gives them a quick wash. He wonders what happens now.

“Are you leaving right away?” he asks, sneaking a glance over his shoulder.

“Nah, I can give you a ride to work,” Dean says casually. And then, in a different tone, he adds, “Go on, go brush your teeth and get your jacket.”

Cas throws him a look, his mouth already open in protest, but Dean is grinning at him. “Just kidding.”

Cas rolls his eyes.

The ride is quiet and the closer they get, the sadder Cas feels.

It’s a dull pain that presses down the corners of his mouth and makes him clench a fist, irrationally resenting green lights and empty roads, pedestrians that wait on the sidewalk instead of crossing and slowing them down.

Dean talks about getting Cas a car and doesn’t seem to mind or notice that Cas barely responds. He’s probably just doing it to fill the silence. He stops in front of the entrance, and Cas doesn’t expect him to, but he turns off the engine and gets out to say goodbye.

He lingers in front of Cas, his eyes wandering from him to the Gas-n-Sip windows, to the gas pump, down to the asphalt, up to Cas again.

Cas is no fool; he knows that it could be a long time before they see each other again.

“Let me know if you see any of the angels,” Cas says to stop that line of thought. “They may despise me, but they know we need to work together.”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean says, a wrinkle in between his eyebrows.

“Say hello to Sam for me.”

Dean sets his jaw and doesn’t say anything, and Cas feels there’s something there he doesn’t know. But they’ve run out of time. He takes a step forward and hugs him.

Hugging him as a human is different. It’s warmer, for one thing. Cas feels his own breath pushing his chest against Dean’s, his heart picking up the pace. And then there’s the scent of him. Cas can’t resist leaning his head into the crook of Dean’s neck, to feel his warm skin against his cheek, breathe him in.

Dean’s hands come up after only a moment to rest under his shoulder blades. He lets Cas hold him for longer than he thought he would.

“Hey,” he says then. “You can call me anytime—you know that, right?”

Cas nods, takes a breath, and steps away.

Dean seems sad now. He flashes a smile, but it’s not genuine. He looks like he’s about to say I’m sorry again. Cas wishes he wouldn’t, and thankfully he doesn’t. 

Instead he says, “I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you.” Cas tries to smile, too, but he thinks it comes out all wrong. “I’ll see you soon.”

"Yeah,” Dean says, now walking backward. “Buy me a pillow, will you?” He points and flashes another of his fake smiles. He gets to the car door. “Toothbrush, too.”

“Okay,” Cas says.

The door opens with a creak.

Dean looks at him over the roof.

“Have a good day at work.”

“Have a safe drive.”

Dean gets in and Cas bends to look at him through the passenger window.

Dean’s not smiling anymore. He’s sighing, and when he notices Cas, he leans over to roll the window down.

“I’ll be back.”

Cas knows Dean believes it. “You know where I live.”

Dean’s lips stretch in a grin that doesn’t show in his eyes.

The Impala starts rumbling and vibrating under Cas’ fingers still on the window frame. He holds up one hand in an aborted wave, Dean does the same. Cas lets go of the car and the wheels start rolling.

In a moment, he’s gone.

And Cas would stand there to watch the car disappear from his view, but Steve needs to open the store, turn on the cash register, make a few calls, start the coffee machine.

And on any other day, Steve would do that without thinking about Dean. Steve wouldn’t ache for him, wouldn’t long for him.

Cas isn’t sure he can do that anymore—shut himself away. As he wipes the counter and organizes the coins, he almost doesn’t remember how he did it before. 

He knows then that there is no going back, because Cas and Steve have something in common now.

They’re both in love with Dean.

#deancas #destiel #destiel fanfiction #deancas fanfic #destiel fanfic #what can i say #this took A WHILE #but im glad it's out now #weirdly im not even sick of it even if i've read it more times than any other things i've ever written

[latexcowb0y]

What I've noticed in the angelkin community is that we are all expected to be these dainty, skinny, porcelain pale, blonde, blue eyed, kind and quiet humanoid things.

So I've compiled a list of angel care for all my fellow angels who do not find themselves in that stereotype.

This is just the first volume with bits coming from my own experience, feel free to submit your own tips for the next volumes!

[Care for Grotesque Angels vol. I]

1. Encourage yourself and other angels to embrace their unique qualities and celebrate their individuality. Remind them that beauty and holiness comes in all forms, and there's no one-size-fits-all definition of what an angel should look like.

2. Go to places where reality feels altered. Those places that make your back and the top of your head tingle. And laugh, scream, run, make weird noises, bask in the sunlight. Just go ape.

3. Say random words in latin and enochian (you never finished Supernatural) to strangers, etch them on walls. When you have that random latin word stuck in your head just write it everywhere obsessively until it goes away.

4. Be divine. Or don't. Spit on the stairs of churches, or go inside ones you've never been before and just sit in the back. Don't get up for the hymns, don't do anything. Just stare at the priest. At the paintings. Look at Gabriel on the wall looking back and think "brother." Look at Jesus, think how uncomfortable that position must be. Think how many times has God betrayed (you ask yourself "who", someone says everyone. You're alone.) Think he should go to therapy and take his meds. Leave chocolate coins and apples in the offering basket. A book about good parenting. Never go to that church again.

5. If you are, be unapologetically, annoyingly, fully and loudly queer. Be a faggot, a transexual, be one in their churches and scream at them how they have no idea about what the truth is (you don't know either, but it's fun.)

6. Be angry at God. Scream at him, bleed for him, ignore him, cry for him, laugh with him, fuck him, make love with him. And then forget he ever existed and hope he left the body of that 20 years old with black box dyed hair and won't find his next home in the heart of your new lover.

6.5. Slam your door like he just told you to go to your room and took your mp3, and you're packing a bag to runaway with chocolate and your birthday money while your mother (mother?) watches fondly from your white door frame with a look that says "He didn't mean to." But she will not say. And you'll never know. You go to sleep angry. Running away is too hard. And there's gravity falls on tv in the morning.

7. Hold Judas's anger, bask in Jesus's kindness. Be a warrior like Michael. A messanger like Gabriel. An anarchist like Lucifer.

8. Use the Bible to your heart's content. Read it, rip it apart, burn it. Use it to draw, keep stable that wobbling table, roll a lavender cigarette for your lover after they "took you to church," as Hozier would say. Make a flame and make smores with your friends, tell stories. You will never see them again. But the memories will replace your blood. Transubstantiation.

9. Kiss a priest, or kill one. Run for pope, burn a church. Disappear into a forest. Become one with the flowers and the moss and the grass and the water and the moon and the sun and the stars and the birds and the maggots and the foxes and the bears. Become the genesis. Become God. And then go out and get pizza.

10. Pray. Or don't.

#actually angelic #angelic #angelkin #fallen angel #fallen angel kin #otherkin #otherkin community #angel aesthetic #actually divine #writerscorner #writer on tumblr #writing #angel wings #writers on tumblr #writer things #writers and poets #trans poets on tumblr #queer poetry #poetry #poetic #queer pride #poets on tumblr #poetscommunity #artist on tumblr #new poets society #poets corner #fallen angelkin #otherkn

[stargazer-sims]

2. The Project

"Hey kid, what's up?"

Caroline shifts her gaze away from her laptop when she hears Victor's voice. He's hopping off the last step just as she turns to look, and once he realizes he's gotten her attention, he gives her an exaggerated wave. He can be such a goofball sometimes, and if he's this energetic at forty-seven, she can't help wondering what he must've been like at her age. She smiles. Nanna Grace must've had an interesting time of it while he was growing up. She probably had to figure out ways to keep him from literally bouncing off the walls.

Victor crosses the short distance from the foot of the stairs to where Caroline is sitting at the kitchen island and settles himself on the stool next to hers. Now that he's close enough, she notices how tousled he is. His silver hair is sticking out in every direction, and it's obvious he'd been sleeping in the rumpled t-shirt and sweatpants he's wearing.

Evidently, he just woke up and couldn't wait to greet her. She loves that about him. He's always happy to see her, even if they've only been apart for a handful of hours.

She has to confess she's happy to see him too. She loves both her parents, but Victor has always been her favourite. They bonded on the very first day they'd met, and Caroline can't imagine a life without him now.

"I'm making some notes," she tells him. "For my Media Studies project. How was work last night?"

"It was good. Surprisingly uneventful, but I'm definitely not complaining about a quiet night shift. How was school? And swim practice?"

"School was... school." She shrugs slightly. "Swim practice was awesome. Jack wants me to be on the relay team this season. He says I'm the fastest, so he wants me to be the last swimmer in the relay, but we still have to figure out the logistics 'cause I can't see when my teammate touches the wall."

"Maybe she can just yell 'go' or something as soon as she touches it," Victor suggests. "That's allowed, right?"

"I don't know," Caroline admits. "Jack and Matilda should know, though. I mean, knowing the rules is part of the coaches' job. I can ask tomorrow."

"Good idea. Did Grandpa Julian pick you up from practice?"

"Yup, and he told me to tell you that Nanna's still waiting for you to let her know when you can paint their kitchen."

"Oh crap!" Victor smacks his palm lightly against his forehead. "I was supposed to get back to her on that weeks ago. I was gonna see if I could recruit your uncle Leo to help me with it, but I totally forgot. I should've written it down."

Caroline laughs. "You know, you should probably write most things down."

"What can I say? Sometimes I'm easily distracted."

"Just sometimes?"

"Have I ever mentioned your sense of humour is just like Yuri's? Anyway, I remember the really important stuff without having to write it down. That should count for something, shouldn't it?"

"Do you remember it'll be Yuri's birthday in a couple weeks?"

It's Victor's turn to laugh. "I've been remembering Yuri's birthday since long before you came along. It's a super important day, and I'd be in big trouble if I forgot that."

"Isn't everybody's birthday a super important day?"

"Well, yeah," Victor agrees. "But when Yuri was born, the doctors all said he probably wouldn't live to see his first one, so it's not just a birthday to him. It's a celebration of being alive."

"Really?" Caroline is intrigued. She hadn't known that about Yuri. "Why would the doctors say that?"

"Because he came way too early and he was really sick. Babies who are born as early as he was don't always make it, even with the medical technology we have. Back then, their chances were even lower than they are these days."

"But he survived."

"He did, and that's absolutely worth celebrating," Victor says. "Incidentally, while we're on the subject of Yuri, have we heard from him since this morning?"

"Actually, he texted me just before you came downstairs. He's coming home early, and he wanted to know if we wanted him to pick up food on the way."

"And you said yes?"

"Yup. I said pizza. Is that okay?"

"Sounds great," Victor says. "Want to help me make a salad and some protein drinks to go with it? And while we're doing that, you can tell me all about your project. Didn't you mention something yesterday about a podcast?"

"Forest and Camellia are doing a podcast. I'm making a documentary."

"That sounds ambitious. What's your documentary going to be about?"

"About my life," she says. "I'm calling it Caroline and Company."

She slides off her stool at almost the same moment Victor gets down from his. While he goes to the fridge to take out some vegetables for their salad, she moves her laptop to the coffee table in the living room. It's not that there's any shortage of counter space, but she doesn't like leaving her computer unattended on something as tall as the kitchen island.

By the time she returns, Victor has lettuce, spinach, tomatoes, a yellow bell pepper, a cucumber and a red onion lined up on the counter. There's a small brick of cheese as well, and some eggs they'd boiled the day before. To Victor, salad isn't a sad bowl of lettuce; it's a culinary work of art, and she's certain he considers himself one of the masters of the fine art of the salad.

Caroline loves cooking with Victor, regardless of what they happen to be making. For as long as she can remember, he's encouraged her to help him in the kitchen. She recalls baking cake and cookies during her first Christmas with him and Yuri, when she had to stand on a step-stool to reach the counter and accidentally spilled milk everywhere. Victor hadn't scolded her for that. He hadn't even seemed particularly bothered. He'd just cleaned up the mess, and when their baking session was done, he'd hugged her tight and praised her for being "the best little baker ever."

Victor assigns her the tasks of shredding the lettuce and grating the cheese. He chops the other vegetables with a speed and precision that scares her a little. She considers herself to be fairly confident with knives, but she has to take her time and make sure she can see what she's cutting. If she did it the way Victor does, she thinks there's a real possibility she might lose the end of a finger.

While they work, she describes the details of her project to him, how she and her classmates have the whole school year to complete their big assignment, and how they're building a website to showcase their work.

"So, you're going to tell your life story in a series of videos," Victor says when she stops talking. "Here... pass me those eggs. Do you want to get started on the smoothies?"

"Sure." She slides the bowl of boiled eggs across the countertop toward him before wandering over to the fridge. "What kind of smoothies do we want? We've got bananas and peaches, and there are some strawberries left."

"You can pick," he says.

She chooses strawberries and a banana and takes them out of the fridge along with a container of yogurt. "It's going to be more than just me in the videos."

"Oh?"

"I want to interview Obā-chan in Kyoto and record our video chat," she elaborates. "I'd like to interview you and Yuri too, and maybe Jack and some of my friends. Also Laila and Dr. Reid-Mayfield, 'cause I feel like we wouldn't even be a family if it wasn't for them."

"I can't speak for anybody else, but you can definitely interview me," Victor says. "I'm sure Yuri will let you interview him too, and I'd be really surprised if Laila said no. Getting Dr. Reid-Mayfield into it might be a hard sell, but it never hurts to ask."

"Cool," Caroline says. "Another idea I had was to let people have the camera and make a video by themselves. You know, 'cause it might be too awkward for some people to talk about me right in front of me. Like, I don't think Forest would enjoy being interviewed on camera, but he might record something if he could just be alone in his room."

Victor pauses in the middle of peeling the shell off an egg and nods. "Yeah, it's definitely easier to get your thoughts out when you're in a room by yourself. I always found it better to make journal entries when there was nobody else around."

"Writing in a journal is different, though. You're not saying your thoughts aloud."

"I didn't say I was writing."

Caroline frowns, but quickly tries to smooth her expression when she remembers that it'll probably lead to her having a pronounced crease between her eyebrows some day, just like Obā-chan. Expression notwithstanding, she's still confused. She glances up from her half-peeled banana to meet her father's eyes. "But, you said you were journalling?"

"Yeah," Victor affirms. "We were. A long time ago, Yuri and I kept a video journal for over a year."

"Really? Did you do it for any special reason?"

"It was supposed to be a travel journal and it was only meant to be my journal originally," he says. "I had this wild plan to go on some big world adventure, and I wanted to capture all my experiences."

"But I guess you didn't actually have a world adventure?"

"I sort of had one. I was already living in Japan with Yuri, so there was that, and then I took a trip to Sulani on my own, but it didn't exactly turn out the way I expected."

"What happened?"

"Aside from nearly drowning during a thunderstorm, you mean?" He finishes shelling the third egg, and then deftly slices each one in half. "I found out how expensive recreational travel is. Plus, I missed Yuri so bad that I vowed I'd never go anywhere without him again. Oh, and while I was away, our landlord evicted us and we had less than a month to move."

"That's... a lot."

"It was overwhelming for both of us. Yuri started using my account around that time to record his own feelings about everything, and our journal kind of evolved from there."

"Do you still have it?" Caroline inquires. The fact that her parents kept a video journal once upon a time is a revelation to her. She never could've guessed they'd done that, and now she's beyond curious to know what they'd been through and how they'd felt and what they'd said.

Victor seems to think about it for a second, but finally says, "The account probably still exists, but even if it doesn't, I'm positive Yuri downloaded the whole thing onto a USB drive at some point."

"Could I... would it be okay if I watched it?"

This time, Victor's silence is longer before he responds. "Let me talk to Yuri about that, all right? You know we never hide anything from you, but that was a really dramatic year in our lives and we talked about some heavy stuff in those videos. I think you can handle it, but we're not going to show it to you unless we're both okay with the idea. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, it does," she says. "I suppose it's kind of like asking somebody if you can read their diary."

"It's exactly like that," Victor says. "It's very personal. We recorded it like there was an audience, I guess because there was originally supposed to be one, but once we started posting about something deeper than mermaid lore and sailing lessons, we made it private. The only people who ever saw it after that were Yuri and me, and Yuri might not be comfortable with you seeing it now."

"I understand."

"I'll talk to him about it tonight, and I'll get back to you once we make a decision."

"Okay," Caroline agrees.

"There's something I want you to do in the meantime," he adds, and the tone of his voice has suddenly gone serious.

"What is it?"

"I need you to think carefully about whether you really, truly want to watch our video journal, if we do agree to let you."

"What do you mean?"

"It's like I said. I believe you're mature enough to grasp most of what happened, and I think you're responsible enough to come to us and talk about anything that upsets you or that you maybe don't quite get, but..." He lets the sentence fade, as if he's trying to work out how to say what he wants to say next. "If you watch it, you might learn some stuff about Yuri and me that you'll end up wishing you didn't know, or that you'll wish you'd waited longer to find out. It can be strange, discovering things about your parents. Confusing and unsettling and... weird."

She wants to ask him what she might find out that'd be so strange and upsetting, but she suddenly thinks better of it and closes her mouth around the barely-formed question. If she could learn it from the video journal and he was reluctant about giving her access to that, it's highly unlikely he's just going to tell her. And maybe he's right anyway, she thinks. Maybe she would be better off not knowing.

The older she gets, the more she accepts that her parents aren't superheroes. They're amazing, smart, strong and kind, and they're unquestionably her heroes, but they mess up sometimes and they're just as human as she is. As Grandpa Julian likes to say, 'they put their trousers on one leg at a time'.

But, even with that comprehension, she can't say she's one hundred percent ready to let her childhood perception of them go completely. Her curiosity is burning a hole through her willpower, but she knows she has to temper her curiosity and impulsiveness with reason. Victor taught her that, and his admonition to think before rushing into a situation has saved her from trouble loads of times. Advice that's always proved to be so good can't suddenly have gone bad.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I shouldn't have asked."

"Come here," Victor says. He moves toward her with his arms open, and she doesn't even hesitate for a heartbeat before stepping into his waiting embrace. She wraps her own arms around him and leans her head against his chest.

Inside Victor's hug is the safest place in the world, and it's consoling enough on its own, but that doesn't prevent him from offering her words of reassurance anyway. "It's all right, sweet Caroline. It's okay that you asked. I don't want you to feel bad for wanting to know. It's just... I also don't want you to jump into something you're not ready for."

"I know," she says. "I'll think about it, I promise."

"Good," he says. "You should give some thought to your school project too. I think it's awesome that you want to tell your story, but the process of learning about yourself isn't always easy either."

"Do you think I shouldn't do it? I could probably come up with a new project idea. Mr. Blanchet already has my proposal, but the real deadline isn't till this Friday. I could—"

"No," Victor stops her gently, mid-sentence. "I think you should. In fact, I'm super proud of you for tackling a project like this. It takes a lot of courage."

"But you said it wouldn't be easy."

"Yes, and that's why you're brave for wanting to," he says. "You already know, just because something isn't easy, that doesn't mean you shouldn't do it or that it won't be worth it. It just means you should be careful and you should be prepared."

"To... to find out stuff about myself that I might not like?" she asks cautiously

"Maybe."

"When you and Yuri were keeping your journal, did you learn things about yourself that you didn't like?"

He tightens his arms around her for a second or two, and she gets the sense that he's doing it involuntarily. "I did," he answers quietly, "And it was really hard. I was scared and angry and sad, sometimes all at once, and sometimes I felt like a total failure at... life, basically. It was a struggle to wrap my head around it and even more of a struggle to change, and I cried a lot."

"You still cry a lot, Victor."

Unexpectedly, he bursts out laughing, and this time when he squeezes her it's clearly deliberate. She feels the tension leave his body, and suddenly she relaxes too. She hadn't even been aware of how rigid she was.

Victor kisses the top of her head. "No such thing as a serious moment with you around, is there?"

"Sorry," she says, but she isn't. She hadn't intended to make him laugh, but the sound of his laughter is so much better than what she likes to call his 'grown-up voice', and she's relieved that he's not upset.

"Cheeky little mermaid," he says in fake exasperation, and she feels warm inside at hearing the childhood nickname her grandfather Kenji — her adorable old Ojī-chan — had given her. It's mostly only Yuri and Ojī-chan who call her that, so it somehow feels special when Victor uses it.

"I can be serious," she tells him. "And I really will consider everything you said."

"I know you will. You're smart and I trust you to make good choices," he says. "If you're ever unsure about anything, though, you can talk to me or Yuri about it."

"Thanks," she says.

After one more affectionate squeeze, he lowers his arms and steps back. They slip into a companionable silence after that, finishing up their dinner preparations before Yuri arrives home from his office.

Caroline has no clue what might be going on in Victor's mind, but hers is tangled with the threads of their conversation. Part of her is anxious over the possibility of uncovering some not-so-pleasant truth about herself, but another part is eager to reveal the pieces of her past that are still a mystery to her. It's exciting and terrifying at the same time, and she has the feeling that no matter what might happen. this project is going to mark a defining point in her life. Once she begins, she'll never be able to un-know all the things she'll discover, and she'll never be able to go back to being an innocent, ignorant child again.

But, it's okay, she tells herself. It's like Victor says; growing up is a journey. And if I don't step forward, how will I ever get there?

#ts4 #sims 4 #willow creek #willow creek haunted house #Caroline Okamoto-Nelson #Victor Nelson #carolineandco #stargazersims

[candiedspit]

hi ! we haven’t talked in forever, but i’ve always seen you as an amazing genius/role model/very intelligent woman who has so much figured out and i think about you lots. im turning 20 soon and don’t know how to deal with it. it feels like it’s so much older and so different than 19 :( i loved being 19, innocent and still a kid. i don’t wanna be 20. how did you deal with it?

hello!! i wonder who you are...thank you so much. so, i don't have much advice because as i'm about to turn 25, i feel the same. but i wrote a letter to my brother's girlfriend when she was about to turn 20 and maybe some of that will resonate with you. i wrote:

I recall twenty as the burn victim summons the scent of gasoline as she lays in the white, stale hospital bed; caught in her cot. There she was, naked in the driveway—half drunk on monk chants, lit by the green blinking fireflies of desire which seemed to feed on her running blood, all those hands—as the brutish sun began to descend like a bomb on the horizon. All of a sudden, an ambush of light. How the heat numbed her down to only her elements; rendered her translucent.

I turned twenty in the bathroom of a poetry club downtown—slashes of graffiti on the walls, and a dirty toilet. I was still a virgin, then. I knew as much about the world as an infant is capable of registering noise. But twenty was a glittering mirage in my eye. I had plans. I was going to rule the world, inch by disgusting inch.

But as February—that pink month in which I still found Valentine’s Cards on the street discarded like banana peels even days after the holiday—came to a shut, I began to expand.

I walked on rooftops; drank when I could. I sat in class engrossed by what I perceived to be a shifting painting of snakes.

I panted in the streets. I had many visions. I went to my aunt’s house—afraid of what I might do, afraid of the animal I was sharing a cage with—and stole my uncle’s pills from the plastic container on the counter, not caring what they were or what they could do to me. I was hospitalized the next morning, convinced the nurse had x-ray vision. I lost my mind. I was not afraid.

I did my time on the psycho wing—meddled with the characters—a girl sporting a large bruise beneath her eyes—sent out enchanted emails—watched Molly at the piano—ate spaghetti with spoons made out of paper—a nurse at the end of my bed as I slept— the quiet room—I took the pills.

A lifetime can be spent chasing. And even then, you are never promised the catch.

After funeral, I spent the summer wading in and out of insanity—carrying my black trenchcoat of grief—daring the world to fuck with me—swimming in the muddied waters of Galveston, drunk on gin and breath and salt—thrashing in front of the mirror—having epiphanies as one has meals—cutting my hair again and again—I could never lose myself—I always followed—being wheeled around in the theme park—a thousand red lights—watching the ceiling breathe—words chasing their tails in my head—a halo of bleach.

And then, the crazy fluorescence stuck. For eight weeks, I moved through the world like a knife on fire. A cowboy coated in oil slick and magic.

Daniel Johnston died; I kept moving. Almost yanking the blunt out of a kid’s mouth simply because I could. Magical walks at night; the moon like a blooming anus above my exploding head. Going up and down the stairs between classes; blonde pig on amphetamine; Jesus in the Dunkin’ Donuts; whispers of legacy.

All this to say — there is a way to live.

Some people live through imagination; in fantasies, protected by spirits and smoke and powders. Others get through the days naked. How you decide to cross the ocean is up to you. But, some advice.

Life is a Holocaust as much as it is a fairground. Have fun while you can. Let the light melt into your skin and your hair. Ride the carousel. Ride it twice. Hold the music, stench, magic, and knowledge, between your teeth like a bullet. Take note of everything you see. All of it matters. The man holding a cake in the line at the grocery store. The newspapers on the cart. Neon lights! How the skies dissolve each night and bleed out each morning. Cry if you have to. Do what makes you uncomfortable. Hold nothing against anyone. Brace. Being a teenager is nice but it is not real. This is the hard part. Life will come like a black stallion free from the gate and how you decide to wrangle it will become apparent very fast. Be scared. Be grateful. Be immune. You are going to make it. Brace.

#ask #hope this helps btw

[timeofjuly]

on my way home

Summary: Quinn gets a late-night text to pick the reader up from a friend's apartment. Set shortly after they moved out together.

Tags: Drug use, angst, blood mention. Nobody is having a good time here.

Read it on AO3 or read it below :)

Quinn drives to the apartment without the radio on. The roads are empty, the streetlights lit up in a long line of sickly-yellow spotlights just for her. It makes sense; it’s four thirty-six in the morning on a Wednesday. Everyone else is tucked away in bed.

Not her, though. Even before getting the four twenty-two text, she’d been awake, folded up on the couch watching late-night infomercials. Her phone had been held loosely in her hand and when it’d buzzed, she’d almost dropped it in her haste to see if it was an ‘on my way home’ message from you.

She pulls up outside of James’ apartment building, her beaten-up sedan looking right at home in front of it. The air is cool and the world outside is almost as silent as her car had been. This far into the city, there are no birds, no buzzing cicadas, no ponds to be populated with the growls and croaks of frogs, to echo through the night like the fading din of a church bell. She is so very far away from home. Not home, actually, not anymore, and that’s a good thing.

Quinn’s buzzed into the building and then takes the stairs two at a time, one hand on the rail to keep herself steady and the other keeping her cardigan wrapped securely around herself. Once outside of apartment 303, she knocks and waits.

The door open and light spills out onto her, bright like the first rays of dawn cracking over the skyline.

“Come in, Quinnie,” James says, ushering her in. His pupils are huge, black pools swallowing blue. His jaw ticks. “Sorry for texting you so late. You weren’t asleep, were you?”

“It’s okay,” she says. “I was up anyway.”

Her nose wrinkles as she tip-toes into his apartment. The place smells like old alcohol and older smoke, the kind that gets embedded in the carpets and stains the drywall yellow. He’s got incense burning on his coffee table, which just adds to the whole unpleasant affair, rather than covering anything up.

She doesn’t like James; hadn’t in high school, even when you’d done your best to make everyone get along. She likes him even less now. She’s not sure if you’re the bad influence on him or if it’s the other way around, or if you’re both just as bad as each other.

She doesn’t like the other people in his apartment, either. Ollie is splashed like watered-down paint over the couch, her eyelids closed. Her fingers twitch as Quinn passes by, but she doesn’t otherwise react.

“Hey, it’s carrot top,” says Buck, the other occupant of the room, his beady eyes trained on the television. “Thank the stars. Clean up in aisle seven, otherwise known as James’ bathroom.”

Mortification burns in her belly, and she wraps her cardigan around herself tighter.

“Shut up,” James says, flipping Buck the bird. He turns back to Quinn and does his best impression of an apologetic look. “But he’s kinda right. Your girl’s a bit of a mess.”

James takes her to the bathroom. The door is open, ceiling light pale yellow and fan humming. You’re kneeling on the grimy tile, between the wall and the toilet. You look barely awake.

“Quinn,” you say. Your voice is thick, like your nose is blocked. Which it is, Quinn guesses, going by the blood on the lower half of your face. Your nose – it doesn’t look broken, she thinks, but what does she know?

“Had a bit of a run-in with the edge of the table, didn’t we?” says James. He looks at her again, still apologetic. His handsome face looks wan beneath the stark bathroom light. “She, ah, went a little too hard and then added alcohol to the mix.”

“’M fine,” you slur, then promptly lean back over the toilet to wretch. Nothing comes out, which bodes poorly for you.

She kneels down next to you, the floor cold through the thin fabric of her pyjama pants. She brushes your sweaty hair away from your forehead and strokes your back with long, gentle brushes, until the gagging subsides. Your whole body shakes and she can feel the individual nodes of your spine through your skin.

“Should I take her to -.”

“No hospitals,” you say. You look at her with glazed, teary eyes. “No hospitals.”

“Okay,” she says.

You sigh and then close your eyes, leaning against her. Your skin burns. She gathers a wad of toilet paper and presses it under your nose, holding it there.

“You gonna be right to get her home?” James asks. He sniffs and rubs at his nose.

“I’ll be fine,” she says. What else can she say? There is no other option.

“Listen, babe…” James sighs. He steps out of the bathroom and beckons her to join him. She’s loath to leave you alone – she hates to think how long it’s been already, how long you’ve been by yourself, so sick, so lost to yourself – but she follows him all the same.

James shuts the door. “I don’t think – Look. This is awkward, but she can’t come around here anymore, okay? We’ve all talked about it. It’s nothing personal, but no one likes to see her like this. Kinda puts a damper on the whole evening, you know?”

She stares at him. Something fizzles in her chest, a cold, numbing ache. It makes her fingertips tingle. “You’ve known each other for years. She’s your friend.”

“Yeah, of course she is! We’ve always had fun together. It’s just. Well.” He clears his throat.

“She’s not fun anymore.” Her voice rings in her ears.

“Exactly,” James says, satisfied. “You get it. No hard feelings, right?”

You have known James forever. Known all of them for years. You would die for these people.

“Right.” Quinn swallows the chill down. It feels like swallowing nails, or a tooth. Sharp. Like it’ll bore through her insides and cut her open.

“Great. I’ll help you get her into the car.”

Getting you downstairs is a process. It’s a two-person job, so James comes down to the car with her, making sure that you don’t tumble down the stairs. Once you’re at the car he passes you over to Quinn and you collapse into her, hugging her tightly, your face buried into the crook of her shoulder. Your blood is sticky on her neck.

“Sorry,” you say, the point of your nose cold against her skin. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” she soothes, running a hand over your hair. She needs to unpick her fingers from the tangles.

You mumble something into her neck. For a moment, she thinks you’re going to vomit again and wonders if she should redirect you to the gutter, but then you sigh, thin and high. “Are you mad at me?” you ask, voice like a kicked dog.

“No. No, of course not. C’mon, get in the car, I’ll get you home and into bed, and we’ll have a look at your nose.”

You tumble into the car and it takes you a few tries to get your seatbelt to click.

“One more thing, Quinnie,” says James. He stares at you, curled up in the passenger seat. “Has she told you about Jesse?”

“I think so?” She hates that it sounds like a question. Hates that she knows so little about your comings-and-goings that she can’t keep track of all of your friends now. “Um, you all met him at Rendezvous a few months back, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” James rubs at the back of his neck, then looks around, almost covertly. For an absurd moment, Quinn feels like she’s part of some cheesy spy movie, alone in an empty street save the streetlights. “Look, you didn’t hear it from me, but the dude’s bad news. He’s into some shady shit and he really likes your girl.”

“She wouldn’t cheat on me,” Quinn snaps, the words whip-quick and firm with her resolve.

James screws up his face. “That’s not what I mean. ‘M just saying that – I don’t know if he just deals or something else, but he’s not a nice guy. I saw him –.” He cuts himself off and then sighs again. “It doesn’t matter. Just try and keep him away from her, yeah? Just some friendly advice.”

“Okay, thanks,” she says, feeling queasy. She’s met Jesse, only once, and he hadn’t made much of an impression. Just another one of your friends who circle like sharks around you, all wandering hands and hungry eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

James leaves and then it’s just you and her, the way it should be.

Quinn gets in and starts the car. The sound of the engine rouses you from whatever stupor you’d been in – you blink blearily at her, wiping a flake of dried blood away from your nose.

“Hey,” you say, voice still thick.

“Hey,” she replies. Her tone is flat, even to her own ears. She starts the car, ignoring the way her hands shake as she changes gears.

“I’m sorry,” you say again after a few minutes of driving. You’ve opened your window and have been staring into the inky night with almost preternatural stillness.

“I know.”

There’s a moment of quiet. Quinn wonders if she should put some music on, if having something to focus on will make you feel less sick.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask. The wind from the open window makes your voice sound like it’s coming through a poorly tuned radio.

“I’m thinking that you could’ve died tonight,” she says, and it’s not what she’d been thinking at all, but now that she’s spoken the words aloud the thought consumes her. You could’ve died tonight. So easily. Blow to the head, an overdose, drowning in your own vomit.

And you didn’t, but you could very well die tomorrow. And if not tomorrow, the day after that. So on, so forth. How many more texts is she going to wait up for? How many more times will you come home to her?

“I’m okay. I’m alive, see?” You grab her hand with your clammy one, ripping it from the steering wheel, and bring it up to your throat. Your pulse jumps against her feeble grip.

You’re right; you feel so very alive and there is so little keeping your blood where it should be, just a thin layer of skin.

She tears her hand away and places it back on the steering wheel. The road ahead is dark and she needs to focus.  

From the corner of her eye, she watches you wipe at your crimson face with the palm of your hand and for the first time in her life, she doesn’t look at you and find you beautiful. She can’t metamorphose the gore and the sadness and the shadows under your eyes into something enthralling. There’s nothing poetic about this. There is only blood.

#silver string #quinn lawson #the electrician #Quinn/Reader #on my way home #i wrote this post mental breakdown to excise the Bad Feelings so please excuse how fucking emo this is lol

[flowerpottlady]

Hazy

Day 8 of July’s @jilymicrofics!

***

Summer was ending, and with it James’s sanity. It had been roughly sixteen weeks - one hundred and eleven days to be precise - since his family entered into hiding. The first few weeks, before his son was born, James had taken to throwing himself into home renovations.

Hanging shelves, painting the nursery; building a crib, a table, a dressing table for Lily. He soon ran out of projects, and threw himself into supporting Lily, learning to be a parent to Harry. But now, the boredom has sunk in.

James had been watching entirely too much of the telly, his eyes hurt from the endless reading, and his hands were beginning to callous from all the chopping and dicing he had been doing in the kitchen - trying his hand at cooking.

With boredom, fear began to envelop him. He hated this, rattling around the house. He was once a soldier, fighting to make the world a better place. And now he couldn’t so much as step off his property without panic overwhelming him, the lingering knowledge that the death eaters, Voldemort, were hunting his son.

James set down the book he had been attempting to read for the past day now, a Muggle detective book that Lily had gifted to him for Christmas the previous year. Normally the Muggle words would have thrilled him, the story keeping his attention until the early hours of the morning. But he was itching, too nervous to sit still and read a book.

He left the living room, slowly treading up the stairs - admiring the few pictures hung carefully on the wall. Lily and him, dancing at their wedding. Lily in a long white dress, flowing behind her as she twirled in his arms.

Next to it, a picture of him and Lily on the Hogwarts express - he remembered this day well, the first day of seventh year. Their respective Headboy and Headgirl badges pinned to their chest, and his arm was around him - he smiled widely at the camera, his expression turning into shock when she stood on the tip of her toes to plant a sloppy kiss against his cheek.

Further up the stairs, a picture had been planted of the Marauders - it must have been fourth year. All boys in line with each other, Sirius standing next to James, ruffling his hair as James looked to the side at Peter, squirming in discomfort as Remus made lude jokes about a girl that had been obviously flirting with Peter at lunch that afternoon.

What he wouldn’t give to be back there, blind to the horrors of the world. Four innocent boys who had never seen a person killed, how tragic that it would change only three short years later.

With a shake of his head, James followed the soft sound of music, coming from Harry’s nursery. Curious, he poked his head in, watching peacefully as Lily sat in the rocker, their son at her chest, a smile radiating across her face as she looked down on the infant in her arms.

Four weeks old, and this boy was arguably the greatest thing to have ever happened to them. He didn’t smile much, opting instead to blink up at his parents in confusion as they cooed over him. But that was alright, James would teach him to smile.

James watched as he detached from Lily's chest - his eyes hazy, milk drunk, as they blinked close - falling asleep contently with a full belly.

“Hey,” his wife said - ever so calmly as she lifted the baby over her shoulder, and patted his back to release a burp.

James sighed, taking in the sight - mother and son bonding in such a special way - Lily was the happiest he had ever seen, and James had played a major role in making her that way. “Hey,” he smiled softly, stepping into the room and leaning against the doorframe. “He didn’t take long to fall asleep…”

“No…” Lily looked down, contemplative, for the briefest moment, “you alright?” She asked him, looking back up at him, her eyes wide in concern.

“Not really.” He couldn’t lie to her. He was struggling - as much as he loathed to admit it, especially when she was the one who had just delivered an actual human being - he was bored, and scared. So beyond scared that this beautiful family he took part in creating, could be gone any day.

“C’mere.” Lily stood up, Harry nestled soundly in her arm, and with her free arm she threw her pillow on the ground, sliding it across the floor with her foot until it was laid against the crib. She carefully lowered herself, until she was sitting on the floor, her legs crossed, and Harry sleeping in her lap. “Sit with me.”

James could only nod then, sitting across from her, smiling weakly.

“So… what’s up?”

“You know.”

“I do know,” she said simply, handing Harry to him. Their baby boy cuddled against his chest, and James fought back tears - gazing down at the helpless infant in his arms.

“How do you get through it everyday?” James asked after a long moment of silence, simply soaking in this moment.

Lily smiled then, deciding to lay down, her back pressed against the floor and her arms spread out on either side of her. She closed her eyes, her smile growing as James maneuvered himself until he was laying down too, his head propped up on the pillow, Harry curled up on his chest.

“I just think about him, how much I love him. How I would do anything for him.”

“He is rather perfect,” James replied, stifling a yawn.

“He’s going to be so happy growing up, all we need is love James.” She rolled on her side then, facing them. “It’s fair to say we have more than enough to give to him.”

“When all this nonsense is over we’ll take him all over the world.” James said, his mind wandering to the image of a toddler, dark messy hair, holding his parents hands as they walked down the busy streets of Paris. Maybe a few years down the line they would start to give Harry a few more siblings. His panic ebbed away, thinking of what the future had in store for them.

“We’ll take him to the World Cup,” said Lily knowingly, “quidditch and footie.”

“I can’t wait till he can go on a broom, he’ll be mad about it.”

Lily reached out, running her hand through his dark hair. “As mad as you?”

“Of course.”

She laughed then, a full belly laugh as she scooted closer to them, resting her head on his shoulder. “Better?”

“Loads.” He blinked his eyes, staring up at the dull white ceiling. “We should paint his ceiling, to look like a starry night.”

“I bet I could charm the stars to twinkle, like little night lights splattered all over-”

“We’ll have loads of time to get it done. According to all those books he’ll probably be sleeping in our room for the next few months.”

“-at least until he the night nursing ends, I would like our room back at some point.” Lily interjected, knowing full well that Harry would spend most of his nights with them for as long as he wanted.

“Until we have another…” James said knowingly, he loved becoming a parent - as hard as it was now, he couldn’t wait until he could do it over again, and again.

“It’s a plan then,” Lily said, her eyes closing. “Paint a mural on his ceiling, get our room back.”

“Make another.”

“Make another…” she agreed. And James felt worlds better.

***

Start from the beginning here! 31 Day of Potters

#jily #harry potter #james potter #jily fic #jily fanfiction #hp marauders #james and lily #lily potter #marauders #hp fanfic

[michelleleewise]

Bump in the Night......

Pairing: Demon Loki x female reader

Warnings: haunted houses, ghosts, demons, mentions of blood (not graphic) character death (not graphic, considered suicide), all the spooky, alot of swearing.

Summary: you are dared to spend the night in the resident haunted house, but will you make it through the night.....

**hii!! Just my little contribution to Halloween and all things spooky and spicy 😏😏😏 I know it's late but I've been under the weather, and work is stupid!! Lol anyhoo.....

"Your really gonna do it?" You heard nat ask bedside you, staring up at the house "yup..you don't get dared by Tony and NOT do it." You said laughing "besides, other then some dry rot what do I have to worry about?" You asked, the last part sounding shakeir then you wanted. "Oh I don't know...the demon that lives there!" Nat yelled waving at the house "seriously? I thought you had a brain." You said opening the gate grabbing your duffel bag "I do...I just know there's something off about this place." She said staring at it. "Alright, well go say four hail Mary's for me and I'll see you in the morning." You said closing the gate. " good luck y/n." She said turning to leave.

You turned around looking up at the house, Time had not been kind to it. The paint had completely peeled off leaving the wood exposed, the eaves hung from the broken windows. "Good thing I brought my sleeping bag." You said to yourself walking up to the doors. Pushing them open the loud creak echoed through the house, leafs on the floor scattering as the winds rushed in behind you. Quickly closing the doors you pulled your flashlight out and began looking around.

You walked into what looked like the living room, years of dust caked onto every surface, rips in the upholstery of the sofas and chairs. Your eyebrows furrowed when your light landed on a large wing back chair next to a large fireplace. Walking closer you noticed it was a deep forest green, not even a hint of dust on it. You set your bag in the chair, kneeling down you grabbed a few pieces of wood from the holder and arranged them in the fireplace. You looked down seeing a box of matches and some kindling and after a few failed attempts you had a roaring fire.

You got up, brushing the dirt off your pants looking around the room, seeing a large bookcase along the wall you walked over, seeing dust caked onto several of them when you came to a section that looked recently used. "What the.." you trailed off, hearing creaking coming from upstairs. "There had better not be a homeless person here." You said to yourself grabbing your flashlight. You crept towards the stairs, shining your light up into the dark when you heard heavy footsteps cross the floor. You froze in place, light shining onto the upstairs landing waiting when the footsteps suddenly stopped. "H..hello.." you called put into the darkness.

You took a deep breath, grabbing the railing you slowly walked up the steps, freezing when you landed one that creaked loudly. You felt your heart began to race as you made it to the top of the stairs, shining your light down the Long hallway. "A..anyone there?" You called out again only hearing silence. You crept down the hall, every step the wood groaned under your feet. You shined your light along the wall, seeing several picture frames hanging all covered in dust. You came up to a round shaped one, wiping it off you saw a black and white photo of two men standing side by side, one light haired the other dark. You leaned forward trying to get a better look when a door down the hall slammed shut making you jump. "Holy what the fuck!" You yelled falling in your backside. You shined your light frantically down the hall but didn't see anything.

"Im gonna have a heart attack before this is over." You sighed standing up. You slowly walked down the hall, approaching the one door that was closed. You took a deep breath grabbing the knob "ok...don't die." You said to yourself as you slowly opened the door. "Hello...is anyone here?" You called out shining your light into the room noticing a gaping hole in the wall, the wind blowing in sending a chill through you. "Well, that explains that." You sighed looking around. Other then the hole the room was pristine. The bed made and draped in dark green gossamer curtains, black curtains hung from the broken windows. Walking over to the nightstand you saw a picture of an elegant looking woman In a long flowing dress, and not am inch of dust on anything.

"OK, I'm hallucinating." You said looking around one more time before heading back into the hallway, stepping out you closed the door behind you so it wouldn't slam again. You slowly walked back to the stairs, shining your light back down the hall feeling like someone was watching you but were only met with shadows. You went back downstairs, walking into the living room you saw your bag and it's contents on the floor, your nightgown draped along the chair. "What the.." you trailed off hearing a low groan echo through the house. "Fuck this.." you said heading to the door you grabbed the knob pulling as hard as you could but it wouldn't budge. "Shit!" You yelled kicking the door when it dawned on you....this was all Tony, it had to be.

"Anthony Stark! You come out here right now! I know your messing with me to win our little bet!" You yelled shining your light through the house. "Well you aren't going to scare me asshole!" You yelled, being met with silence. "Freaking jerk." You muttered. Walking back to the living room you picked up you sleeping bag rolling it out on the couch. Looking around you grabbed your nightgown off the chair, sitting down you pulled your shoes off setting them by the fireplace. "You better not be peeping at me Tony!" You yelled pulling your jacket off draping it on the back of the chair. You quickly pulled your shirt off slipping the nightgown over your head, removing your bra from under the gown to shield yourself in case Tony was roaming around.

You stood up, sliding your jeans down folding them and setting them next to your shirt. You leaned down, stoking the fire adding another piece of wood before laying down on the couch zipping yourself in your bag. You sighed, feeling your muscles relax as you stretched out. You turned to your side, looking into the fire you closed your eyes, hoping the night would go fast....you woke a few hours later shivering. You opened your eyes seeing the fire had died down and your sleeping bag was...open? You shot up looking around rubbing your eyes, you knew you zipped yourself in...right?

You shook your head, getting up you stoked the fire again, adding a couple more logs when it roared to life making you jolt back, landing on your backside. "That's gonna leave a mark." You sighed, getting up Walking back to the couch you slumped down rubbing your temples. You laid back down, zipping your bag back up when you heard the heavy footsteps upstairs again, stomping across the floor. "Tony! Stop that and let me sleep!" You yelled burrowing down in your bag when you heard laughing at the top of the stairs. "Dude...I swear!" You yelled starting to get up when the scent of leather hit your senses making you freeze. Your head spinning to the stairs hearing someone walking down them. "Tony is that you?" You called out, leaning down to grab your flashlight falling to the floor.

"Dammit.." you hissed rubbing your elbow. "Such language from such a pretty mouth." A deep voice purred making you freeze. "I can think of much better uses for those pretty lips of yours." It said again. You slowly reached out, wrapping your fingers around your flashlight, whipping around you shined it at the floor as you scooted back, seeing a pair of dark leather boots, moving the light up you were met with a tall figure, wrapped in green and black leather sitting down in the green chair, your light hitting his chest you saw his long dark hair offsetting his pale skin, his green eyes piercing into you. "Y..you...your in the picture...." you mumbled remembering the pictures in the hallway. "Ah yes, that was many years ago, my brother and i." He said crossing his legs.

"What..why..are you.." you mumbled, your mind running a mile a minute when he held his hand up. "Let's get some light in here shall we?" He asked waving a hand in the air a dim light illuminated the room. "Please, sit. I will explain what is going to happen." He said waving to the couch. You got up, not taking your eyes off of him as you lowered yourself to the couch. "First, my name is Loki and yes, technically I am dead, but...I made a deal with some unsavory demons and now.." he said holding out his arms. "A..are you a..." you started "a demon? Well...I suppose you could say that." He smiled wickedly at you. "Your friend...Anthony was it?" He said rubbing his chin "came here to...make a deal with me." He said tapping his foot.

You stared into his eyes fidgeting with your nightgown "what does that have to do with me?" You asked "Well my dear, everything. You see, I have finally decided to take a wife, and in return for what Anthony wanted, he offered...you." he smiled again crossing his arms. "W..wait..what?" You asked standing up, him standing as well, slowly crossing the room "you are to be my bride y/n, we will be together for all eternity." He said stalking closer. "N..no, i.." you trailed off feeling his hand on your cheek, his cold skin making you shiver. "The deal has been made, you are mine." He purred. You slapped his away backing up. "No! I refuse!" You yelled running towards the door trying to pull on it again "you can try to run..I do enjoy a chase." He purred behind you.

You took off down the hall trying to find a back door or broken window. "I can make you very happy y/n." You heard echo around you, running to the kitchen you saw a door, trying to pull it open it wouldn't budge. "Come now y/n..." you heard, turning to see the man standing in the doorway. You ran, ducking under his arms you made it back to the hallway taking off again. Remembering the hole in the wall you ran upstairs, tripping scraping your knee "fuck!" You yelled "there's that mouth again, I may need to punish you pet." You heard, seeing him standing at the bottom of the stairs. You stumbled to your feet, feeling blood trickle down your leg as you rounded the top running for the bedroom, throwing the door open you felt the cool night air hit your face. "Oh pet...I wouldn't if I were you." You heard behind you.

You slammed the door shut, shoving a chair against it you turned slamming into a wall of leather, looking up meeting those green eyes as his arms wrapped around you "your going to hurt yourself pet." He purred. You shoved off him, running towards the hole, looking down you felt dizzy. "Y/n..." you heard him say sternly. You turned meeting his gaze "You cannot have me." You said, closing your eyes you fell back, bracing for an impact with the hard ground when your back met a soft surface. You opened your eyes, seeing the green curtains hanging around the bed. "Welcome back pet." You heard as you shot up seeing the man sat in a chair by the door. "But i..." You trailed off. "Jumped? Yes you did." He said waving to the hole. You slowly got up making your way over. Looking down you saw yourself, your leg at an odd angle, a puddle of red around your head.

"I..im..." you stuttered "yes darling, you are. And now we can be together...forever." He purred into your ear, pressing his chest to your back. He turned you to him, placing a hand on your hip, the other on your cheek "you will learn to love me." He smiled, leaning down he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. Maybe he was right, maybe you would learn to love him, you had eternity to find out......

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