#(( the writing of this ask just totally reminded me of the funeral one i got and i guess that’s where my mind went first 💀 ))

[basilone]

A blurred photograph + complexion for a MOTA character of your choice! Juno xx

Three months later and I'm finally getting 'round to filling this one. 🫣The time was apparently very, very right for this! Thank you for sending it. 💙

tug of war

“Fuck this. I’m fucking out. Some fucking bullsh–!”

Max winces as the door slams shut behind Lottie, effectively muffling the pilot’s tirade enough to no longer be understandable. One-Eye, furthest away from the door, casts a dark-eyed glare over Bucky’s shoulder toward the window. Undoubtedly Lottie has already stormed outside, not yet close enough to curfew to warrant trouble, and is making a case for herself being someone else’s problem. Max doesn’t track her any further than that, though One-Eye keeps peering over Bucky’s shoulder like it still matters what the hell Lottie gets up to these days.

“Draw straws?” asks Nora, casting a glance at everyone left in the room.

“Not it,” snaps Max, in tandem with Push’s coughed rejection.

“She’d put me in a headlock,” snorts Brady. His expression turns sour. “Again.”

“I’ll do it.”

“John,” says Major Cleven, sounding too tired to be surprised at Bucky’s volunteering. “Let Ace do the talking”– and Max is not imagining the collective wince that shudders through the room at Major Cleven saying Ace instead of Lot –“don’t push her too hard.”

“I’m a friendly face,” says Bucky, smiling so brightly that everyone can tell he’s lying. “She left her jacket. Gonna bring her that, before we have to ask the Ruskies how to defrost a pilot.”

Major Cleven’s hand folds around the letter Lottie left on the table. “You do that.”

Max swallows as conversations around the room begin to pick back up as soon as Bucky moves to leave. Nora and Crank certainly make a concerted effort to loudly discuss the camp’s insane music program with Brady and the rest, which Max leans back from solely because she's already told Brady anything but a funeral dirge is a waste to play these days. She doesn’t want to see their expressions shutter at the reminder of death again. She’d been too vocal about it, just like Bucky had, just like George back in England would not shy away from discussing it on the tarmac.

She watches Major Cleven’s eyebrow rise before he folds Lottie’s letter in a too-neat, too-precise manner. Sees that same letter go up in a flutter of flame – fed to the candle so decisively that it’s gone in the blink of an eye – and turn into a pile of ash in Major Cleven’s food bowl. There’s something hard in his expression. Chips of ice in his eyes and the flicker of deep-set fury around his lips. Max studies her kneecaps, knobbly in this too-big uniform, as soon as his gaze comes to rest on her bunk.

None of this is normal, but almost everyone pretends it is.

“Mama sent a letter,” offers Benny, next to her, voice remarkably steady for someone who’s just met the full brunt of Major Cleven’s silent communication. A DeMarco family letter is maybe the closest tether to sanity Max has got. “Papa included instructions on how to stitch the bedding. They’re both asking about you.”

“Yeah?” she says, leaning back against the wall, coming shoulder to shoulder with him. “What’d they want?”

“Ask how you are, if you’re getting through that cough from a few weeks back okay,” he says, nudging her slightly as if to underscore the ridicule of the mail’s slowness. “Mama’s asking if she can write to you, or if you’re expecting letters from anybody.”

Max frowns. “The hell would anyone be writing me for? Unless you count Val and George,” she amends, seeing Benny’s deepening frown out of the corner of her eye. “They’ve been writing to One-Eye and me, but George is also writing to Bucky and Val’s real busy and all.”

“That’s your crew family.”

“Only one I got, dumbass,” she shoots back, rolling her eyes for emphasis as she turns to face Benny. “I haven’t got a big family. Or any family. All I’ve got is some blurry photograph of a man who might be my daddy, might be a total stranger. Can’t write to what you don’t have, yeah?”

“I’ll tell mama.” His eyes crinkle with his smile. “She’s already adopted Frosty. She’s got room for one more.”

“Yeah, but you and Frosty are, uh, you’re all Italian and all,” says Max lamely, waving her hand as if she can shoo Benny’s stupid idea out the door again. “This complexion of mine? Pretty sure this”– she motions, rolling one sleeve up for emphasis –“is too damn dark to be Italian. First goddamn thing Huglin asked me when he clapped eyes on me is if I was one of those Tuskegee airmen. So much for being white-passing, huh.”

“You’re just very tan,” he says levelly, which she snorts at only because she’s used that excuse a million times before. “Doesn’t change the fact that my mama wants to write to you.”

Her eyes sting, then, and she has to cast her gaze to the top of her bunk until she’s certain she won’t do something stupid like cry about it. “That’s not fair,” she whispers, barely loud enough to be heard over the din of the music discussion. “I-If you… If you knew how many times…” How many times I wished someone would see me and take me in like that. She swallows the wish back down. Settles on the truth. “Folks don’t give a shit about orphans like me.”

Benny shrugs. “It’s just letters, Max.”

Max stares. “It’s never just letters with your family, Benny.”

“Yeah, so, maybe it’s not,” he says, setting his mama’s letter down. It covers the pages full of neat, looping script Max recognizes as Darlene’s – Darlene’s done all the lettering on their planes, she’d know it blind – as well as a shorter scrap of paper with the same script that’s not addressed to Benny at all. “But I’m getting real tired of updating my folks about you girls all the time, barely have enough space left to tell them how I’m doing,” he chuckles, “so be a peach and write to my mama for me sometime? You can do it with One-Eye and Push if you want, saves me even more space.”

“Right, because you’re such a poor little victim baby.”

“Cry myself to sleep about it,” he grins.

“Benny,” says Max, admiring, “sometimes you can be a real cunt.”

“All in an honest day’s work.”

“Honest, says the man who’s hoarding a letter to Lottie,” she says archly, nodding at the scrap of paper that’s still sticking out. “You gonna give her that?”

“Later.”

“Never.”

“Jesus, Maxine, I said later.”

“When? Because I’ll bunk with the fucking Ruskies on the day you hand her that,” she says, shuddering to herself. “Captain Petrov said he’ll find us a place with their bomber girls. I might even learn more Russian.”

“Captain Petrov needs to stop adopting everyone who reminds him of his little sister,” grumbles Benny back, expertly dodging Max’s question about the letter. “Hey, Buck”– and it’s a done discussion, apparently, which Max folds her arms and scowls about –“did you know Petrov put an offer in to adopt the girls?”

Max’s scowl almost breaks when Major Cleven’s confused which girls, Benny? mingles with Benny’s exasperated sigh and gesture at the room at large. And she’s gone and said it now – something else for them to focus on, something for Brady to mutter furiously about – and Benny’s already slipping off her bunk and conferring with the Major in low-voiced tones before Max can say she doesn’t think Captain Petrov would whisk them away without permission.

Her hand hovers over Benny’s letter a moment before she snatches it off the bed.

Dear Bernardo, she reads, settling in a huddle against the wall, eyes roving over the page until… She stops. Give little Maxine our love, it says, and she’s not…

She’s not ready for a thing like that.

She’s not at all prepared for something like that. And Benny won’t get that – not with his family like it is, not with Darlene writing to him like that – and Major Cleven will get it a little too well – she’s seen the way he holds his fork, all quick meal on the go – and she doesn’t want to talk to One-Eye about it because One-Eye still believes people can be good without wanting something from you.

There’s only one other person in this damn camp who’ll know something about what it means to be loved in spite of your own efforts to reject it.

“I’m going for a walk,” she announces, slipping Darlene's letter to Lottie into her large sleeve.

[ruki--mukami]

From the moment Yui entered your room late at night, you knew something seemed off about her. It wasn't like her to become this brazen overnight. Intrigued, you were going to give a remark but was suddenly interrupted when Yui jumped into your arms and shoved her face into your chest. Taken back by what has just happened, you feel wet spots on your chest.

"I miss him," cried Yui as she spelt out those three words almost in a whisper. "My father."

“Don’t cry, Yui. I understand the loss of a parent can destroy you instantly, starting from the inside until finally you can no longer contain yourself. The relationship you once shared with your father had both its morose and joyous moments, I’m certain, but remember how the two of us met. It was all thanks to your father’s absence in the first place,” slowly he welcomed her into his arms. “In other words, what I’m trying to say is that sometimes we must separate from our family to grow as people. Humans live on finite time, that is simply a realization with which we must learn to agree and cope. If he truly cared for you as often as you claim he did, then he would hate to see you shed tears over his passing.”

Stifled sobs, lachrymal stains upon the silk of his shirt, champagne curls messily entangled with the Vampire’s fingers, Ruki reciprocated her embrace with cathartic circles caressed into the small of her back, exhaling deeply as accursed memories resurfaced. Dire circumstances poisoned his mind, from his father pushed off the precipice of depression and his mother who long fled. For Yui’s sake, he threw that tragedy to the wind. Bodies melded together like a rose apricating in the sun’s warm wake, usually he would have considered a human weeping in his arms nothing more than a thorn in his side, stinging with trauma immemorial. However, he likened Yui to someone beyond a mere human, someone beyond a beloved one. A sweet seraph, illuminating the dark with her hope, it pained Ruki to genuinely see her overwhelmed with bereavement. Planting a cold palm against her florid pallor, the Vampire gazed intently into her refulgent rubellites teemed with the pearls of sorrow.

“You are my one and only Eve. Or at least, you were. Now you’re the Yui I’ve come to cherish. The Yui I’m eternally grateful who hasn’t experienced a life of solitude; lost and abandoned. Your father may no longer tread this earth but if it’s any consolation, you’ve found a new family. My brothers and I will always be here for you—especially me. You won’t ever have to be alone again, for I shall continue to love every single part of you.”

Narrowed tempests, countenance encroaching, and lashes fluttered shut like the wings of a bat, Ruki captured her lips with his. A kiss to silence her lugubrious bellows; a kiss to erase the agony; a kiss to swallow her worries whole. With each press, each dilatory cage of his arm snaked around her waist, he didn’t want to lose his mortal lover the way she lost her own parent, as shown by his possessive albeit protective kiss in hopes of comforting her. If he could shoulder the burden, and thus ease her pain, then Ruki would hold her always without complaint. Joining in an intimate union, just like this kiss, if it meant seeing her effulgent smile again.

“I love you, Yui. Come what may, even if the end of time approaches us, we’ll always be together. Whether we are alive, whether we are dead, I intend to meet you in every realm of existence possible… because we are inseparable. Sleep here with me tonight if it will make you feel safe. Just know that you can always rely on me, is that understood? Not just as your master, but as your family. And I don’t mean in the kindred sense of it… I intend to start our own family together with you someday. As husband and wife. So until that day comes, don’t cry, Yui.”

[avocado-writing]

Hello, writing req prompt if you're up for it: Aziraphale x reader first time intimacy

Btw I'm eating your every fic they so good!

notes: my fav thing is when people eat my stories. Reminds me of that Maurice sendak story. Anyway hope you enjoy!!!

pairing: aziraphale x reader

rating: E, minors dni

The first time he touches you it’s totally without realising. His mail got delivered to your shop and you’re bringing it over, grateful to have an excuse to talk to the man you’ve quite fancied since you met at the last Whickber Street Shopkeepers and Street Traders Association. As you pass him the small pile of letters your fingers brush together and you feel a little spark of electricity. You’re not sure if it’s static, or something… else. 

He offers you a cup of tea, and you accept it happily. He’s very easy to talk to. Before you realise, the day has slipped into evening. 

The first time he touches you on purpose it’s because you’ve walked into his shop and slipped over, falling heavily on your arse. It’s raining outside and you apparently brought in a puddle with you. The only thing bruised is your pride but he rushes over and offers a sturdy hand to get to your feet, all worry and care. 

“My dear, are you alright?”

“Yes, sorry! I didn’t mean to get your shop floor all wet. I can always mop…”

“Don’t be silly. You need a cup of cocoa and some biscuits on the double. Sit down, I’ll get you both. Oh, but let me take that wet coat first.”

It’s nice to have him fuss over you. You only came round to ask if he could see about getting a book in and, if you’re honest, that was just an excuse to say hello. He helps slip your raincoat off of your shoulders and he must also realise how intimate an action it is, because as he goes to put it on the coatrack his cheeks are flushed pink. 

Another lovely chatty afternoon. He reveals he’s never seen Notting Hill, and you simply can’t allow that to continue unremedied. So the two of you sit on his couch (he seems more than happy to close the store early) and enjoy the movie as much as each other’s company. 

The first time he holds you, it’s on one of the film nights you’ve scheduled with him. It’s your favourite part of the week, closing up your shop and scuttling to the bookstore with a dvd in hand. You’re watching the 1995 Sense and Sensibility, and he seems very tense the entire way through. For a while you’re not sure why until he finally gathers up the courage to put his arm around you. Your heart leaps up into your throat at the gesture, but you snuggle in tight next to him, letting him run his thumb up and down your shoulder in a little caress. 

And the first time he kisses you is as he walks you back to your shop that night - you live in the flat above it, so he doesn’t have to accompany you as it’s just over the road, but he insists it’s the gentlemanly thing to do - and, at the door, you spin and give him a quick peck. He seems dazed, but manages to get ahold of his senses enough to bring you back for a second, proper kiss. 

At your next movie night, you don’t pay attention to Four Weddings and a Funeral. You’re too busy snogging. 

And now, here you are. In his lap. The kissing has gotten hot and heavy, he’s unbuttoned your shirt nearly all the way down; you’ve stripped him of his waistcoat which makes him seem positively nude. His hands slide under your thighs and grip you tightly, moving a little closer to your arse as you breathe hotly into the shell of his ear. 

“Aziraphale…” you gasp, stretching your legs open wide so that he might fit between them better. Your hand runs down his beautiful thick chest to the front of his trousers, where you rub the strained tent. He gasps and his head rolls back at your sure touch. 

“Can I…?”

“Yes. Please,” he chokes. You make quick work of his fly and reach in to take him in your hand. He’s hot and heavy in your palm, throbbing with need, and you give him a couple of pumps just to hear the little overwhelmed noises he makes. 

He slips his fingers away from where they dig into your soft skin and presses them at the sweet point between your thighs. You moan and keel into him, letting his deft and precise movements sweep over you with pleasure. You kiss him again, moving only so that you can take off enough of your clothes to return with your lower half naked. To disrobe further would mean you’d have to stop touching him, and you can’t stand that thought. You need him close. As close as he can possibly be. 

Aziraphale settles his hands on your waist as you take him once more into your grasp. You line him up with your entrance and, checking that he’s ready with sultry eyes, sink down on him. He moans, bloody moans, and it’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard; you want to bottle it and keep it for yourself so you can listen to it again and again. He fills you, stretches you, makes you one with him. You’ve never felt so warm and complete in your life. 

Hands on his shoulders you tip forward to be able to rest your forehead against his. You’re both a little sweaty, both a little breathless, but both more than a little elated. His soft curls tickle your face as you begin to ride him with gentle but deliberate motions. You roll your hips and he squeezes you tighter, your name falling from his lips like he’s offering up a prayer to you. 

As the London rain pelts the windows, you make love to the bookseller in the back of his shop, and it’s perfect.  -

Taglist: @angiestopit@dazed-soul @@foolishprincipalitee@smile-eywa@staygoldsquatchling02@underratedboogeyman@cool-ontherun-world@emilynissangtr@cool-iguana@this--is--music @ilyatan

[warwickroyals]

Poor guy . . .

beginning - previous - next

[NICHOLAS] I was seventeen. I remember failing a science test at sixteen but . . . I don’t remember the funeral. I don’t remember reacting. Like, I watched YouTube videos of myself from that time and it felt like watching a stranger. It’s just a void, that whole three-month period.

[THERAPIST] That’s totally normal, sir, shock after a traumatic incident can result in loss of memory, people often experience dissociation.

[NICHOLAS] Yeah, I guess . . . but for months?

[THERAPIST] It’s not uncommon. shock can last years. So, you remember absolutely nothing? Nothing about family, friends? How ubiquitous was this void?

[NICHOLAS] Well, there were two sides of it . . . the public side, I remember next to nothing, maybe standing outside the gates of Chester Palace with my brother but . . . Other than that, I mostly remember being alone at home. My mom was in a lot of pain, obviously, so she wasn’t really around. In fact, I don’t remember seeing her, it was my dad’s private secretary who was looking after us before we got sent to our grandparents’.

[NICHOLAS] I mean, it was a very lonely time. My uncle was getting a divorce, so I wasn’t allowed to see my cousins through him, my brother stayed locked in his rooms. My mom . . . I wanted to be with my mom, my dad would have wanted me to protect my mom, but it was so intense with her. It was real. I couldn’t handle it, I didn’t know how to make her feel better, I still don’t, I guess . . .

[NICHOLAS] I sometimes have these dreams about my dad—maybe nightmares would be a better word, I don’t know—anyway, in these dreams he never has a face, it’s always hidden, and he’s always asking about my mom. If she’s happy or feeling better and . . . I’ve had these dreams on and off for ten years. Never once did I have a positive answer for him. Never once.

[NICHOLAS] How do I tell him? “I think Mom has PTSD” or “Mom moved up to Collingwood because everything in the city reminds her of you” or “Sorry, Dad, I outran my childhood and left Mom behind in the process”. Those aren’t the things he’d want to hear, but that’s all I have. Even worse if he asks about Alex.

[THERAPIST] You and your brother aren’t close?

[NICHOLAS] We haven’t been in years. There’s a royal biographer who’s writing a book. He’s been talking it up a bunch on the news. It will follow three generations of brothers in my family. My grandfather and his brother, my father and my Uncle Phillip, and me and Alex. It’s going to analyze the tensions that cause heirs and spares to break apart.

[NICHOLAS] Dozens of sources have already signed off on it, it won’t be good for us. The author is claiming my father would be shocked and upset about me and Alex . . . but I’m not sure. If he were alive to see the things Uncle Phillip has said and done, he wouldn’t be on speaking terms with him, either. He knows what that estrangement feels like, he wouldn’t be surprised. Which I guess still proves the author’s point, ironically.

[NICHOLAS] I always stay up late to read the news. If it’s not about my family, it’s about the cost of living crisis and all that.I constantly worry about this stuff.

[THERAPIST] You’re just one man, you can’t realistically solve everything.

[NICHOLAS] I don’t mean to sound conceited, but I am not just some random guy. That’s the whole point. I can do more but everyone around me wants me to do next to nothing.

[NICHOLAS] This might sound rich, but I envy the protestors. People act as if they’re a problem, but I admire them. Tens of thousands of people coming together to fight for something they believe in. I’ve never experienced that type of unity in my entire life—if anyone ever comes to you for a quote, don’t tell them I said that.

[THRARPIST] These sessions are completely confidential, sir, I couldn’t tell anyone even if I wanted to.

[NICHOLAS] Yeah, well, I’m sure you’ve already noticed, but I have very bad trust issues.

[THERAPIST] What makes you say that?

[NICHOLAS] I honestly have no idea. It just . . . I don’t know.

[CORALINE’S ARTICLE] While promoting my most recent novel, Currents, I’ve had the honour of speaking with many young people at various university campuses. Many have told me my writing has uplifted and inspired them. However, with the cost of living crisis looming in the background, these conversations have become less uplifting and more uncertain and even abjectly pessimistic. The truth is, young people are struggling.

[NICHOLAS] I have a hard to processing loss. Not just my father, but other people, too.

[THERAPIST] Others?

[NICHOLAS] I haven’t said her name in years, but, yeah, she’s an other.

[wonderlandleighleigh]

Tilting at Wind Mills

(Yes I know Bucky isn’t Jewish in the movies. No, I don’t care, he’s Jewish in every fic I write lol)

MCU/Mrs. Maisel Crossover.

1941

"I just don't see why I can't come with," Steve complains as he watches his friend get dressed up. "I'd be respectful."

"Because you can't fast," Bucky reminds him. "Yom Kippur is the one where you can't eat, remember? You'd black out in synagogue." 

Steve sighs. "Bring me leftovers from the break fast?" 

Bucky grins. "That I can do. Okay. Off to the Upper West Side I go. Wish me luck. Maybe I'll meet a rich, pretty girl."

It earns him an eye roll. "Leave."

He does. 

*****

He steps up in front of the ornate apartment building and adjusts his tie as his sister steps up to join him. 

"Ready for a fun-filled day of atonement with the family who has no idea what to do with us?" Ricky Barnes asks teasingly. 

"An entire day with the Sackville-Weissman's," Bucky jokes. 

Ricky rolls her eyes. "You and your Tolkein."

"If you'd just give it a chance-"

"Are you two going to come upstairs and join us?" 

It's a familiar voice. Tired and elderly, but infused with warmth, and soon both of them are wrapped in the arms of their grandfather. 

"Hi, Zeyde," they chorus. 

He chuckles. "Hello, kinder. I was just taking a walk. Getting away from the chaos of trying to convince Noah that God doesn't want him to eat today."

Bucky chuckles. "Every year with that kid." 

Chaim Weissman looks them both over critically. "You both look good. Strong. I was worried after your mother passed last year…"

"We're not that far away to check on, Zeyde," Ricky reminds him carefully. 

"That's on me," he admits. "Brooklyn is full of memories. I miss your mother very much. I never dreamed outliving one of my children." 

Bucky squeezes the man's shoulder. "Let's go check on Uncle Abe. See if he's blown a gasket yet."

*****

Services are long, and Bucky is hungry but he's got an eight-year-old girl cousin who is funny and they make dumb faces at each other when no one is looking. 

Noah and Midge are significantly younger than Bucky, but it's kind of nice. Noah is twelve and too smart. Midge, the aforementioned eight and funny and intuitive. 

Bucky isn't comfortable with his uncle and aunt's wealth (adding Sackville to the front of their name isn't a total joke), but he loves seeing his cousins and grandfather. 

These dinners used to end in arguments, before Bucky's mother passed away. About family responsibility. About money. About the fact that the Weissman's have quite a lot, while the Barnes branch rarely had enough (mostly due to Bucky and Ricky's father magically disappearing back in 37).

"You know, James," Aunt Rose tells him at break fast as their housekeeper (fuck, seriously?) serves the food. "There are some lovely girls I could introduce you to."

Zeyde tries not to roll his eyes. 

"I'm good, thank you," Bucky assures her. "I'm not really ready to settle down." 

"Of course not," Uncle Abe agrees. "He's young, Rose. He's sowing his oats." 

"And we’re likely going to war soon," Zeyde chimes in. "James is strong. They'll want him to fight." 

Midge taps him on the shoulder from next to him at the table and Bucky leans down to listen as she whispers in his ear. 

"Don't die, or I'll find you in the afterlife and give you a wedgie."

Bucky laughs and wraps her in his big arms, giving her a tight hug. "Okay, Midge. You got it." 

*****

1945

At thirteen, Miriam Weissman attends her first funeral. 

There's no body to bury, so it's really just a memorial for her cousin. 

Bucky was always nice to her. Good natured and charming. Quick-witted. On Hanukkah when she was six, he taught her to make potato knish from scratch while Zeyde critiqued from the kitchen table. 

"No side seat cooking," Bucky had joked. "You wanna teach her, you come over and teach her." 

There's a handsome blonde man -Captain America - speaking to the congregation about her cousin. About what kind of man he was, and it all rings true. 

Midge remembers Steve. He used to come with Bucky to dinners sometimes. Small. Always polite. When she was little, he drew her a pretty picture of a flower that she still has framed on her wall. 

He looks so deeply sad, and Midge looks at her hands to avoid crying. 

Captain America dies not long after Bucky does. 

She pulls the picture he drew off her wall and stows it away. 

****

1950

Just before he passes away, Chaim Weissman promises his pretty granddaughter he'll make good on that wedgie when he catches up to James in the afterlife. 

Midge laughs and cries at that. 

*****

November, 1954 

“Congratulations,” a soft voice says. The accent is British, and Midge frowns as she turns her head. 

She gave birth to her first child just a few hours ago, and she’s exhausted, so she’s not even sure if this is real, but there, sitting next to her is a beautiful woman. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Dressed in a sharp skirt suit. 

“Thanks?” Midge tries, blinking rapidly.  

The woman smiles. “We haven’t met. My name is Peggy Carter. I worked with your cousin, Sergeant Barnes and his friend, Captain Rogers.” 

Midge blinks rapidly, looking surprised. “I…did you find something? Did you find-” 

Peggy reaches out then, placing a hand on Midge’s. “I’m sorry. No. That isn’t why I’m here. I’m here to ask for your help.” 

“Me?” Midge asks. 

Peggy nods. “My agency has multiple operatives who work under deep cover,” she explains. “It’s very dangerous. It’s very isolating. It’s difficult for them, at times, to keep their humanity intact. Bucky spoke fondly of you. That you were his favorite cousin. I know that you’ll be busy with your new addition for a while. But after…I was wondering if I could send them your way for a warm meal every now and then.” 

Midge bites her lip. 

“You won’t be involved in anything they’re doing,” Peggy promises. “You won’t be asked to carry secrets. They’ll be sent in under the guise of old friends of your cousin’s. And in quite a few cases, it won’t be a lie. Just dinner.” 

Midge thinks about that for a moment. About how she wishes she could make knish with her favorite cousin again. 

And she nods. “Give me a few months to get this motherhood thing under control, and then send ‘em my way.” 

Peggy smiles at her. “You’ll get forty-eight hours warning each time. Expect a call in six months.” 

“Your friends better be ready for the best meal of their lives,” Midge smirks. 

The older woman chuckles as she gets to her feet. “You are very related to James Barnes.” 

“Damn right.” 

*****

1955 

“Who’s coming over for dinner?” Joel asks. 

Midge smiles. “Just an old friend of my cousin’s.” 

“And his name is Dum-Dum?” Joel scoffs. “What the fuck kinda name is that?” 

Midge shrugs and smiles wider. 

***** 

December 1957

At eight months pregnant with baby number two, Midge knows she shouldn't be running around late at night, but she forgot the extra potatoes for the knish tomorrow and she can't sleep anyway, so she finds herself at a corner market. 

There's only one other shopper this late and he's a big man in a bulky coat, gathering pears into a bag. 

There's something unsettling about the man. And familiar. 

"Late night snack?" She asks. 

He glances at her. 

"I forgot the potatoes for the knish. My husband hates them but I love them." 

Still no answer, but he becomes more familiar the more she looks at him. 

Midge tilts her head. "You remind me of someone." 

He drops his pears and storms out.

She frowns down at them, laying on the floor, the only evidence the man was ever there at all. 

*****

1964

Lenny Bruce loves his second wife but some fucking times he is very confused by her. 

Like now. 

He's hanging out with her on tour in California. It's late. He's tired. But he's chasing after her as her heels click quickly down the street. 

"Midge-"

"Saw a ghost!"

"Midge, for christ sake, what does that even mean?" 

"What do you mean what does that mean? It means I saw a ghost."

"Friend or foe?" Lenny asks. 

"Family."

"So both."

She stops and frowns as she looks around the empty LA street. "I could have sworn…" 

Lenny catches up, taking her hand and giving her a gentle tug. "Midge, talk to me."

Midge bites her lip, looking around and then back at him. "I had a cousin die in action in 45."

Lenny frowns. "I didn't know…"

"Papa had an older sister," Midge explains. "She had two kids, and one was a boy. James. His name was James and he was fun. Nice to me. Anyways, I…they never recovered his body, and…just before Esther was born I ran into someone who looked…so much like him. In the eyes. And now…" 

"That guy on the corner?" 

She nods. 

He pulls her close. "You know, grief is strange, and long, Sweetheart. I'm not saying you're crazy, but this might be leftover shit from his death."

Midge considers that, cuddling in against him. "I guess it could be. I was so sure, though." 

"Evening, folks," a man says with a smile as he walks up. "Late for anybody to be wandering around."

"Well, we're comics," Lenny explains. "Terrible creatures of the night. And ghost hunters, apparently."

"Say, you're Lenny Bruce and Midge Maisel," the man marvels. "I don't suppose I could get an autograph." 

Midge smiles kindly and unwraps from Lenny. "If you've got paper and pen, we've got autographs. Who are we making it out to?" 

"Alexander," he replies, as he pulls out a little pad of paper and a pen. "Alexander Pierce." 

Lenny watches the man as he waves the pen in a strange way, and suddenly the street seems to settle around them in a way it hadn't before. As if someone who wasn't supposed to be there in the first place had gone. 

He signs quickly, letting Midge make small talk with this Pierce guy, and when they finally head back for their hotel, Lenny is so fucking relieved. 

*****

2014

The Village Vanguard 

"Good evening, everyone. I'm Mrs. Maisel and Captain fucking America is sitting in the back, holy shit."

The crowd- Steve included - laughs. 

"I have a secret to tell you," she says closely to the microphone. "I knew Captain America when he was just a scrawny Brooklyn kid who could get knocked over by a stiff breeze. And boy fucking howdy do I have stories." 

Steve laughs more and shakes his head. Sam is laughing too. 

"Have you ever watched a 98 pound gentile try to flirt with the tallest Jewish girl in the room?" Midge asks. "Let's settle in. It's summer, 1939. He is the only goy at our Catskills resort, and he is in it to win it with Shira Farber, who is six foot one and could break him in two. Now, as a little girl I just thought it was silly. As an adult? I have to ask: Steve, are you just really into women stepping on you? Because that is what would have happened if you'd succeeded." 

The audience laughs and Steve rubs his face. "I asked for this by showing up, didn't I?"

"Getting roasted by an 81 year old woman who's done it professionally since the 60s? Yeah." 

"Is it wrong to talk about Captain America and sex?" Midge asks. "Does being a symbol of the ideal America preclude you from wanting a good fuck? Not that he has to want to fuck, but is it because he doesn't want to fuck or because the government doesn't want him to fuck? I bet those USO girls back in the day knew the answer to that question." 

Sam slowly looks at Steve. 

Who turns red. 

"I mean that begs the question: is the American dream sexless?" Midge asks. "We've always been disturbingly puritanical, haven't we? My late husband got arrested how many times for dirty jokes? Where is the we like to fuck political party? Where's the candidate handing out Plan B at their town halls? You know. Just in case. Sure, we want liberty, but a lot of us also want orgasms. What is congress' plan to increase getting off in the coming fiscal year? Not that kind of coming. I mean I hope I'll be coming sometime in the next fiscal year." 

Sam laughs loudly at that. 

"Yeah, Mr. Falcon thought that was funny. I bet he fucks." 

Steve laughs at that one as Sam shrugs sheepishly. 

"Can you imagine being the woman to take Captain America's virginity?" Midge asks. "Steve, when you made it with a woman for the first time, did you sing the National Anthem?" 

Steve laughs and plays along. "My Country Tis of Thee!" He calls back, making the audience, and Midge laugh. 

"Good answer," Midge praises. "People think Captain America, they think patriotism. They think of earnest heroism. I think that guy at the Seder table who insisted on eating the horse radish and then hogged the bathroom for an hour. Steve, you were not the only one with a sensitive stomach that night Steve." 

"Seven days of Passover, seven days of lighting a scented candle in the bathroom because you may think Captain America's shit smells like fresh apple pie, but I can assure you it does not." 

Amidst the applause she beams. "I'm Mrs. Maisel. You've been wonderful. Captain America is still a great sport. Thank you and goodnight!" 

*****

Midge smiles at them as she sits in the little dressing room. 

"Hi, Midge," Steve grins sadly. "Great set." 

"Thanks for playing along," she says. "But I'm guessing you're here about Bucky." 

Steve nods solemnly. "I guess you heard."

"Hard not to," Midge tells him. "When they didn't find the body, his sister and my grandfather held out hope that maybe he'd survived…and now I know that the handful of times I thought I saw him, I probably did. Maybe…maybe he remembered me a little through the brainwashing." 

"We're gonna find him," Sam promises. 

She smiles sadly. "If you do, tell him Cousin Midge says hello." 

*****

2018

To the Ruler of Wakanda, King T'Challa 

My name is Miriam Weissman-Bruce. The world at large mostly knows me as Midge Maisel, and I make people laugh for a living. 

We've never met, but it seems your country is currently taking care of a family member we all thought had died back in the 40s. 

I write to you because he hasn't returned any of my letters. I know he's received them. Wakandan mail is top notch, and I know he has the ability to write back; The idiot lost his non-dominant hand. 

I think he's too ashamed to talk to me. 

I write to you not just to complain like the truly Jewish woman I am, but to request permission to visit him in Wakanda. I ask no special treatment (though if you have comedy clubs, I'd be more than happy to perform and make fun of America for your citizens), I only want to see James sooner rather than later. I'm pushing 90. I'm figuring I don't have time for him to get his shit together. 

Can I say 'shit' to foreign royalty? I guess I'll find out. 

Thank you for your time and consideration.

Miriam "Midge Maisel" Weissman-Bruce 

*****

Bucky Barnes narrows his eyes as Ayo holds the hand of a small, shriveled white woman, helping her through the field toward Bucky’s hut.

“You know, I know several fashion designers who would cut off their own left foot to make clothes for you,” the older woman chats. “Really. You are stunning. And so tall.” 

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, realizing who the old woman is. He holds back tears and takes a breath. “Everybody’s tall to you Midge. You’ve been short your whole life.” 

“The curse of the Ashkenazi Jewish woman,” Midge jokes. “Short as fuck.” 

“What is she doing here, Ayo?” 

“She petitioned our king for a visit,” Ayo tells him. “And she promised him a comedy show. And then when she got here, she insisted on cooking for the royal family to express her gratitude.” 

“We’re Jews,” Midge chimes in. “We’re very good at feeding people.” 

“Are you telling me you made dinner, and I missed it?” Bucky asks, feeling deeply disappointed suddenly. 

“It’s tomorrow night,” Midge assures him, waving the free hand that isn’t holding onto Ayo. “I was told I had to come knock some fucking sense into you first.” 

“Sense?” Bucky asks, offended.

“Fucking sense,” Midge corrects him. “Not responding to my letters. What the fuck, James?” 

“I like her,” Ayo grins as she helps Midge settle onto a little bench near the hut. “I cannot believe you are related. She is much funnier than you are, Barnes.” 

“Well, she did make a career out of it,” Bucky points out. 

Midge looks up at him curiously. “You’ve heard my material?” 

“When I found out, I bought all your records,” he tells her, sitting next to her and taking her hand. “Hi, Midge.” 

Her eyes well up with tears and her unsteady hand squeezes his. “Hi, Bucky. How’s life?” 

“Oh, you know,” he shrugs his shoulders. “I caught some fish yesterday.” 

Midge laughs and shakes her head. “My husband loved to fish. You would have hated him and then loved him after you got to know him better.” 

Bucky smiles, letting go of her hand to wrap his arm around her. “Tell me all about it.”

[the-navistar-carol]

A fact about me that I have not told anyone is that I keep my emails. A lot of them. Well, I keep the ones that are useful and I keep the ones that I like. I'm a very sentimental person, and that trait extends to... emails, of all things.

Just scrolling down my Promotions tab, I have Dracula Daily from October 9, which talks about a dog that was found dead and the funeral of the Demeter's captain. I think it was specifically because of this line that made me keep it.

The folk here hold almost universally that the captain is simply a hero, and he is to be given a public funeral. Already it is arranged that his body is to be taken with a train of boats up the Esk for a piece and then brought back to Tate Hill Pier and up the abbey steps; for he is to be buried in the churchyard on the cliff. The owners of more than a hundred boats have already given in their names as wishing to follow him to the grave.

In the same vein, I have kept all of the "Dear People of the Future" emails. The last one was from August 11, and it talked about the places the author had used to live and what lives there now. I've kept all the Answer in Progress newsletters, because I like their YouTube channel and what they put onto the internet. I've kept the emails from when I was changing laws.

My "Primary" tab is an amalgamation. It's got Ao3 in there (which, seriously, go back to Social), it's got Etsy emails (hello, Phoenix shirt), it's got things that are important in there. I've starred several of those Ao3 emails, actually -- because they are comments on "Aftershocks" (hello, @missezri, I had to look up your user four times because I'd look at it, go "i can spell that," and then immediately forget how) and they make me feel like I've accomplished something. It makes me proud of starting to write again.

My "Social" tab used to be full of Ao3 updates. I have kept fic update notification emails when I really liked that chapter, but usually it's comments. I've kept all the email receipts from when @protectgeorgeweasley replies to my essay-length comments (oops, I still haven't started Atlas, my bad) and I star the ones that really stuck with me. Or, actually, I used to star all of them, as I have just realized by flipping the next page of however many emails that are still sitting in my box. Because I loved reading them once, and I'm going to love reading them again.

Your "Socials" used to be full of Ao3? What's in them now?

I'm so glad you asked, random voice that I totally didn't invent.

The top email in my "Socials" tab is a notification that @zee-has-commitment-issues tagged me in the Mega Backstory Post. It's not deleted, even though I checked it over an hour ago. It's starred, because I value what's in that post. The email second from the top is Ezri again, but it's a comment on the "are we ready for Screwed ch 23 heartbreak?" chaos post. I've kept them, and more posts that I've been tagged in or more asks I've sent that people have answered, or all of the above, because I like being reminded that people know I exist.

TL;DR I'm too sappy for my ow good, end post

[iwadori]

When they leave you on your wedding day (Sakusa, Bokuto)

Genre: angst

Word count: 1.7K

masterlist

Sakusa’s will make more sense if you read this you don’t have too but it’ll help.

Sakusa:

“Y/N,” you hear knocks on the door outside your dressing room “I-I need to talk to you.”    

“But Omi, a groom must never see their bride until they meet at the alter,” you say behind the door.

“I-It’s important, and I must tell you right now.” he says a bit more intensely

“Okay, Okay... you can come in but im hiding in the closet since my dress is already on.”

“Ok.”

You hear the door open and shut, and a lot of pacing around of what you can presume was his fresh wedding shoes trotting against the hard wood floors.

“Omi,” you call wondering why he hasn’t spoken yet “Is everything okay?”

“Umm yes I-it's fine...it just I-” he says pausing

“Just what?”

“I don’t really know how to say this Y/N, I don’t really know how to say it’s just-” he says again pausing himself taking a deep breath.

“Just what Omi? Don’t tell me you’ve got cold feet love,” you say laughing at the thought of it, but your laughter ceased when you don’t hear the ‘Of course I don’t have cold feet Y/N’ that you were expecting.

“Omi?” you asked again, hoping he had he was still going to give you the response you wanted.

“Omi..” you repeated.

“Omi!” you say finally, now exiting the room (with your wedding dress on) to see why your fiance was not responding.  

To your shock, Omi was sitting down on a couch with his face in his hands with soft sobs coming from his mouth and runny tears and snot coming from his eyes and nose. “Omi whats wrong?” you say loudly, alerting him,

“Y/N you look beautiful!” he says sniffling.

“Omi you were meant to say that at the alter, but now that your crying forget about the dress... what’s wrong?” you say sitting down next to him.

“I don’t know how to say this...” he starts, looking away from you  

“Say what? Omi look at me...” you say feeling anxious  

“We...We can’t get married today,” he says still with his eyes off you.

“What do you mean, we can’t get married.” you ask but you get no answer,

“Omi answer me,”

“Say something please!” you say turning his body so that he’s facing you, his eyes are all puffy and bloodshot from the crying and now tears are filling yours “What do you mean Omi,”

“Remember Ex’s name?” he says confusing you cause what did she have to do with anything.

“Yes I remember her, I remember vividly being the girl you cheated on her with after you claimed you were ‘breaking up with her’ so I had to tell her.” you scoff “so yes, I definitely remember Y/N, what about her?”

“We recently umm how can I say this,” he says struggling for words “reconnected... and I do truly miss her and she’s made me rethink some things, see some things...”

“And those things are?”

“I’ve always loved her, she’s always been my one. The one.” he says smiling a bit at the thought of her making you feel sick.

“But Omi what about us? What about the wedding that’s going to happen in less than an hour?”

“Im sorry Y/N I’ll tell everyone what has happened.”

“I don’t want you to do that, I want you to marry me.” you say desparetly “please Omi, why her? Why now..”

“It’s always been her, and you’ve known that.” he says standing up “The day you told her about our ONE NIGHT stand, was the day that I thought I couldn’t live on, but when you came and accepted the pathetic mess I was, I gladly dated you since I had nothing else to loose...but its been 4 years since then I'm a changed man and EX NAME is a changed girl, a forgiving girl and the spark we had wasn’t lost I guess...and Im happy now”

“But what about me?” you say crying “What about me? And my happiness, don’t I deserve that? Don’t I deserve to finally be happy.”  

“Y/N, you do deserve to be happy. But not with me, not at the stake of my own happiness, I wont allow it.”

“Omi bu-”

“God Y/N, don’t be so desperate!” he said agressively “Im sorry for stopping the wedding, I know your parents have put in alot of money in it and I will certainly pay them back... in due time of course.”

“You’re sorry for stopping the wedding?” you say angrily “Not sorry for stopping this relationship. Stopping the longlasting feelings ive felt for you since the day I met you?”

“Cut the crap Y/N, all we did was have one night stand.” he says rolling his eyes and unbuttoning his top botton of his shirt and loosening his tie I dont know why but this Is what guys do when theyre mad in the movies.

“Your such a liar Omi, you used to come into my work place everyday flirting with me talking about how much you wanted me, PINING AFTER ME, making me fall in love with you and not even telling me you had a girlfriend at the time.” you yell “and you summarise that all to me falling in love with you after one measly one night stand.”

“I don’t want to do this Y/N,” he says heading to the door “We’re finished. No more wedding. No marriage. And definitely don’t contact me after this. We’re through.” he slams the door behind him, leaving you alone and jilted in your wedding dress.

You get why he broke it off with you, and technically you do play a small part to blame. You were the one that told his girlfriend that you slept with him and then dated him afterwards, so I guess ‘how you get them, is how you lose them’ definitely works in this case.

Bokuto

The bokuto and L/N wedding was going to be a joyous occasion. Your soon to be husband told everybody he saw that he were to be wed with you, he couldn’t contain his excitement.

“Bokuto calm down, we’ll be married soon.” was what you always said, whenever he started his rambles to which he always replied “I know Y/N, I cant wait.”

When it came to your grand day, you were excited from the moment you woke up you were buzzing, wondering if Bokuto was feeling even a half of the feelings that you felt.  

You looked beautiful in your dress, anticipating the look on Bokuto’s face when he sees you at that alter. Your wedding party was already at the hotel you were getting married at whilst Bokuto’s got ready at the houe and decided to drive there.

So after you got ready, all you had to do is wait for Kuroo, one of Bokuto’s best men, to tell you when it’s time for you to walk down the aisle.  

You were impatient, your leg was shaking now you knew how Bokuto felt when he rambled on how excited he was for you to become Bokuto Y/N. You finally heard a knock on the door and you dashed to open it,

“Kuroo, thank god you’re here!” you exclaim giving him a hug “I’ve been waiting ages for you, lets go! Take me to my future husband.” You pull his arm practically trying to run and see your man before Kuroo pulls your arm halting you.

“Y/N...” he says shifting his eye sight from left to right “I think we should sit down for a minute.”

“Why? Is he not here yet, gosh he’s always been late to things” you joke “but fine we can sit for a minute or two.”

As you sat, Kuroo turns his body to you putting his hands on your knees with his eyes looking sad “Y/N. I don’t know how to say this but...” he gulps putting his head down “there’s been an accident.”

“Accident? What do you mean accident? What happened? Is everyone okay.” you ask a bit frantically, since it would sad for someone to be hurt on your wedding day.

“That’s the thing Y/N, Bokuto he..”  

“Bokuto what? He’s okay.. Right?” you ask staring at Kuroo “He’s fine right?”

“No he isnt,” he says

“What do you mean he isn’t what happened, where is he? I need to see him.” you say getting up before Kuroo pulls you back down.

“He isn’t anywhere... well anywhere for you to see him. There weren’t enough cars for us, well there were but one of them the engine wasn’t starting and it sound a bit dodgy. But Bokuto said, he insisted for us all to be there. I even offered to let him take my spot in the other cars, I did Y/N I really did, but he promised us that he’d be fine. He left a bit before he did, saying that if he had chance to wander around the hotel it may calm his nerves. But when we were driving, we saw this car all mangled up on the side of the road, it was his. I told him not to drive that car, I told him and he did and I-” he rambled with tears pooling in his eyes “Im sorry Y/N im really sorry.”

“But why why didn’t you call?”

“He told us not too, he said that he wanted you be to as happy as you could be on this day as he knew it wouldn’t end with you becoming his wife.”

“But the ambulance, you called an ambulance right?”

“He was D.O.A, Akaashi went with him since he knew that he probably wouldn’t be able to deliver the news to you.”

“Why? Why did he leave me? On our wedding day, it was supposed to be our day and now hes gone Kuroo hes gone.” you wail, but kuroo wraps his arms around you in a brotherly hug as he cries too.  

That’s how you spend your wedding night, crying in your friends arms over the loss of your ‘husband’ and his ‘brother.’

Bokuto’s funeral was the week after, and it was not an event you were excited for. It was a hard day to get through, but you did it with the help of Kuroo and Akaashi. You visit Bokuto every year on your wedding anniversary talking to your husband even though it always reminds you of the day that never came to be.

This is the wedding angst that is a gift from me to you sweetheart @teesumu you can totally block me after this cause girll I cried whilst writing it.

If you want a nice ending to the bokuto story to make you feel better read this

General taglist [bold can’t be tagged]: @sakuxxi, @iimoonii, @hamdehlesmis, @Shoyosupremacy, @iambashfulperson, @kayleighbeccaa, @dearkousei, @bakugouswh0r3, @xedspirits @borpcorp, @soft-angel-clouds, @foxxtrot-116 @Xogiaaa, @jesssobs, @apple-poptarts @galagcica @letssssus, @random-734, [join the taglist here]

[dollslayer]

Sweeter Endings

Sugar Daddy!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Still reeling from the financial realities of losing your mother you turn to a lucrative website for help and get more than you could have bargained for.

W/C: 5,325

Warnings: Smut (no minors 18+ only), light D/S dynamics, brief mentions of alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, swearing

A/N: NO MINORS, I wrote this for @donutloverxo 's Sugary 4k Challenge (Congrats!!) I love sugar daddy AUs so I was really excited to write this!! If you like it then please like/reblog/comment I'm all ears! Also maybe check out my other stuff if you want! Cheers!

Main Masterlist

____

The saying ‘desperate times call for desperate measures’ was truer than you’d ever imagined and you found out the hard way. Life had hit you hard last year. You had watched your mother succumb very quickly to cancer. A cold that just wouldn’t go away turned into a doctor’s visit turned into three months left to live. Having no one else in her life, the cost of her funeral and medical bills fell to you. The bills outweighing the inheritance you had no choice but to drop out of school.

One year later you were hanging on by threads to keep yourself off the streets without turning to a loan shark or selling yourself. Stocking shelves at a bougie grocery store in Soho by day and bartending in Tribeca by night had you working six days a week. What free time you had you were too exhausted to do anything with. Something had to give or you were going to collapse from the stress, you just didn’t know what.

A couple weeks ago you had been casually venting about how broke you were with a coworker when she jokingly suggested signing up for one of those Sugar Daddy sites. You laughed along with her but it sounded better than getting a third job. You had quietly asked one of your roommates to borrow their laptop saying you needed to look at job postings only half a lie, really and locked yourself in your room.

You were just gonna check out the website, maybe sign up and poke around, it didn’t mean you were committing to anything, just looking. You remembered first looking at the website once your shitty wifi loaded it, promising ‘beautiful and successful people making mutually beneficial connections’. You balked after reading that but you couldn’t look at any profiles without making one yourself so you had set to work.

After making your profile you hadn’t gotten any hits in about a week so you shrugged it off. You couldn’t keep hogging your roommate’s computer anyways so you set off back to work. Your days at the store wore on into endless nights at the bar and you wondered what other options you really had when you had no degree and no experience in any relevant field.

___

6 o’clock on a Thursday night, the typical after work crowd begins to roll in. The bar you work in is upscale, classy. Definitely trying to lure in the businessmen that worked in the area and their wallets. It annoyed you to deal with the same type of customers you did at the store all over again but with the high end crowd came good tips so you couldn't complain too much.

It was busier than usual when a group of men in suits walked in together asking for a booth. You saw a lot of business meetings take place over whiskey sours in this place so you didn’t think much of it. You tried your best to keep tending to your regulars when a pair from the group came over.

One of the men had deep brown eyes and a sly grin that when split gave you the perfect view of the gap between his teeth. He was confident but he had a kind look to him. His friend had dirty blond hair and a beard that clung to his perfect jawline and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t snuck a second look. You turned your back and continued filling orders to distract yourself when one of them cleared their throat behind you.

As you turned to face them you found it was the blond calling after you. His face held a hint of surprise but it was quickly replaced by a look of amusement as he smirked and one brow lifted, like he knew something you didn’t. He was like any other typical customer for you, professional and handsome, probably over-confident in himself. You returned his smirk and prepared your best charming banter. Time to earn those tips.

“Something to drink for you, gentleman?” You offered.

“We’d like a round of scotch for the table over there. You don’t mind bringing it over, do you sweetheart?” the brown-eyed man asked.

“Of course not” you answered. Pricks.

“Good girl” the blond said with a wink. Creep. A hot creep but still. Before you could ask he took his card out of his wallet and put it on the counter for the tab.

____

A round had come and passed, soon they’d asked for another but this time it was just the blond that approached you. You lifted your eyebrows in anticipation of an order.

“You here often?” he asked. Ugh, not even a good pick up line.

“Am I here at my job often?” You retorted with a playful smile.

The man’s shoulders shook as he chuckled. “Sorry you just uh, you look familiar that’s all. What’s your name?”

You supplied him with it and asked him if he wanted another round of scotch. He nodded.

“Smart girl, I’m Steve by the way.” He laid down his business card which you picked up with a look of challenging curiosity. Steve Rogers, CEO of Shield inc.

Oh. You didn’t recognize the name but you definitely knew the company. It felt like a quarter of their employees stopped in for a drink throughout the week and it was prominent enough of a company that you read about it weekly. Play it cool, these types want to feel like an every-man at the bar but still wanna feel important.

You raised your eyebrows again in recognition. “Nice to meet you, Steve, I’ll have your round right out.”

“Good Girl” he winked again at you. Okay so it’s hot, but he’s a total stranger and you don’t even know him. Stay on your game.

___

10 o’clock came around and things were thinning out slightly, regulars made their way out, awkward Tinder dates and rowdy young 20-somethings made their way in. The party of businessmen was still around but they were hopefully wrapping up after the 2 more rounds they’d had. Steve approached the bar once more and you preemptively picked up the bottle of scotch.

“Whoa, easy, girl! I’m here to pick up the tab” He said, taking out his wallet.

“What’s the name on the tab?” You decided to play dumb but based off the grin on his face he knew you were playing with him.

“Steve. Rogers.” He replied, his tone was stern but his eyes told you he was in on the joke.

You cashed him out and left him to sign his receipt so you could make more drinks. You saw him move in your peripheral and turned your head to see his face.

“Have a good night, sweetheart. I’ll be seein’ ya” he promised.

“Take care!” You smiled back.

A few minutes later you circled back to collect his receipt and found three $100 bills staring back at you. You blinked dumbly in disbelief, who the hell leaves a 200% tip? Looking around to see if Steve was still here he was nowhere to be found. You had no choice but to pocket the money.

____

Another week went by and left you wondering how much energy and concentration it would take for you to just evaporate, since that seemed easier than going to work today. Sadly still in solid form, you punched in at the store and stowed your things in your locker.

Your upscale customer base was a mostly pretentious and successful group of yuppies so even though you were grateful to not be on the streets you were constantly reminded of the professional success you couldn’t help but feel that you were missing out on. Stuck instead to listen to incessant whining ‘is this organic? I won’t eat it unless it’s organic’.

The upside of this job was that the time went by quickly because you always had so much to do. Plus with how monotonous the work was it was easy enough to zone out. So much so that you hadn’t heard someone calling your name and approaching you. A hand softly touching your shoulder snapped you into the present.

You looked up, startled to find a pair of blue eyes staring back into yours. You took a step back and processed who it was. “CEO guy?” Steve?

“‘CEO guy?’ I thought I recognized you, ‘barmaid’ or should I say… ‘stock girl?’” He joked using his fingers to make quotations.

Now that you thought about it, the store isn’t that far at all from the bar, it would make sense if he’s in the area. You smiled and tapped your nametag in response.

“I just came in on my lunch to grab a few groceries” looking down at his basket it held some protein powder, some eggs, and one lonely banana. “Clearly, I’m single. But you’d know that already, wouldn’t you?”

Your brows twinged together in confusion. What is that supposed to mean?

“Excuse me?”

He edged a little closer to you and lowered his voice “SeekingConnection.com?”

Your eyes widened in shock. The fucking Sugar Daddy site! I forgot about that! Surprise was quickly replaced with humiliation. You looked down and away as you felt your cheeks heat up.

“I don’t mean to embarrass you” Steve placated, “But I gotta say, I’m pretty hurt you never responded to me. I sent that message weeks ago and let’s just say I’m not used to rejection.” He kept his tone light, letting you know he wasn’t mad.

“I-I um, I’m sorry, I don’t have a computer and they don’t have an app, I was using my roommates’ computer and I guess I forgot about it…” You admitted.

Steve nodded in acknowledgement. Please say something to salvage this conversation. Please.

“Well,” Steve rummaged in his pocket for another business card. “You got a pen on you?”

You dug around in your apron and came up with one. Handing it to him you watched as he wrote on the back of the card. He held the card and the pen out to you.

“That’s my number, I’d ask for yours but I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, you already look like you wanna sink through the floor” Not helping, but I do. You took them from him and tucked them away in the pocket of your apron.

“You do have a phone right?” You only glared at him in response. “Well, if you check your profile, you would’ve seen I asked you out to lunch, offer still stands. Just text me when you’re free”

Should I even say yes? I mean, the winking the other night was weird but he’s good looking and at least somewhat considerate. I mean, it’s not like I had any other intention when I signed up for that site. What the hell. right?

“I… usually work mid shifts so I don’t know if lunch is doable, they only give me half an hour but, maybe we could do coffee? I’ve got tomorrow off from the bar I could meet you” you suggested.

If Steve felt pity for you he hid it well behind the wide smile he made when you offered coffee instead.

“There’s a place around the corner from here, just up a block, you know it? I’m off tomorrow at 6, why don’t you meet me there?”

“Sounds like a plan.” He winked at you again and started walking away. What the hell just happened?

____

You did end up borrowing your roommate’s computer once again when you got home to look up Steve’s DM. Sure enough, there he had been in all his internet glory. ‘Steve, 33, CEO. likes: art, conversation, whiskey. Digging around further on his profile you found that he owned several houses here and in Europe, he had a dog that was cuter than he was, and that he was ‘Seeking deeper connection’. All of these things piqued your interest.

‘Hey, Doll. Saw your profile and I had to ask, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this? Kidding, of course. But maybe you’d care to tell me your story over lunch? Your profile says we’re both in New York. - Steve’ Sent three weeks ago. Fuck.

You had texted him earlier to confirm, which is how you found yourself walking up the sidewalk towards the shop with a mind running rampant with nervous thoughts. What if he just wants to feel big about himself in comparison to me? What would I even really have to offer the relationship? A college dropout working two dead-end jobs with no social life. You needed to snap yourself out of it. You were just meeting for coffee doesn’t mean anything.

Pushing open the door you found Steve waving at you from a quiet corner. He was still in a suit, presumably coming from work himself. Even the buttons on his shirt looked expensive. You were wearing dirty jeans and a worn pair of work boots paired with a flannel. You couldn’t have looked more different if you tried.

“I waited for you to order,” He said. You smiled up at him, only now realizing how tall he was in comparison to you. He ushered you both towards the counter where you both placed your orders. You moved to take your wallet from your purse but he had already beat you there.

“Really? As if I’d let the lady pay, and on the first date no less?” He said playfully.

“Oh, so this is a date now, is it?” You kidded.

Steve shoved his hands in his pockets and gave you that boyish grin and a shrug. The pair of you made your way back to the table and waited for your drinks to be brought over.

“How was work?” You asked, “What exactly is it that your company does?”

“We offer security and surveillance software domestically as well as international. Stadiums, airports, other government buildings. Things of that nature. And work was fine, thank you for asking” Steve said with a genuine smile. “How was your day, doll?”

“Oh, my day was fine, more of the same but y’know,” You answered half-heartedly.

“You know, you never answered me, what’s a funny, pretty gal like you doing on a site like that?”

Embarrassment hit you again, this time maybe accompanied with a hint of shame. You were saved momentarily by your drinks being delivered. He seemed truly interested and since he was paying you supposed you owed him an answer.

“I was going to Columbia and I had a pretty good internship when my mom got diagnosed with cancer. She died three months later and since it was only always just the two of us I ended up footing the bill. I was on partial scholarship but between the hospital and the funeral I can’t really afford the rest of tuition on top of working for free so here I am” you explained, “Oh my god, I’m sorry I’m totally oversharing aren’t I? You probably don’t wanna hear about a bummer like this, sorry”

You tried to laugh to ease the tension you thought you’d created. Braving a look at Steve, he looked thoughtful and only a little bit like he pitied you. You could live with that.

“I’m really sorry about your mom, mine also got really sick before she died, I know it must’ve been hard. What were you in school for?”

___

You and Steve talked for hours, trading anecdotes of childhood and talking about each other’s interests. You had a similar sense in humour so you got on swimmingly. The evening seemed to be coming to a close as the night sky sent in through the window.

Being with Steve was probably the most relaxed you’d felt since before your mom was diagnosed. It became difficult to focus on anything but your financial situation and even though that’s what brought you here in the first place you had managed to forget all about it.

“So look, us getting together wasn’t exactly the most conventional on meet-cutes but to put it bluntly,” He said, “The CEO life makes it hard to meet real people and it gets kinda lonely, I mean, you saw my grocery basket” You both laughed at that. “You need money and I need company, I feel like we could help each other out. Whad’ya say? Think you could put up with me?”

You knew what this was but hearing it put so plainly was a little surprising. At least he was to the point.

“So if I said yes what does that mean, exactly?” you inquired.

“Well,” he started, “We take care of each other. Let me cover some of your bills at the very least, make it so you’d be comfortable quitting at least one of your jobs. And you’d keep me company, we go on dates, maybe you could come over, there’s the occasional work event or charity gala I’d need you on my arm for. Thoughts?”

God I can’t even imagine what it’s like to work only one job anymore. Maybe I could even save up and go back to school. He’s cute and he seems sensible, why not?

“Could we maybe take things slow? What you describe is something I’m down for but I don’t want to make myself completely dependent on you. But I’d love to be there for you, and I have to admit, the thought of only working one full time job is pretty crazy to me” You laughed.

Steve swallowed and placed one of his large, warm hands over yours.

“I can do things the old fashioned way, if that’s what you’d feel good with. I gotta say though, with looks like that it’s not gonna be easy” he jested.

You smiled shyly and looked away. You both stood to leave and he held the door open for you.

“I’ve already got your number from when you texted me earlier but I’ll talk to my assistant about my schedule and maybe I could take you out to dinner this weekend?”

“I um, I’d really like that. It’s a date” You stated.

“Oh, so you think this is a date now?” He jested.

You lightly punched him in the arm and he took the opportunity to pull you closer to him. You looked up to find his face inches from yours. You could smell his aftershave and his deep voice gave you goosebumps when he spoke next.

“I kinda want to kiss you goodnight, would that be okay?”

You could only nod as he shut his eyes and closed in. Your lips met in one perfect, chaste kiss. You sighed and leaned into his hand as it briefly cupped your face.

You broke apart and made promises to see each other soon. You felt like you could’ve floated home as you boarded the subway, caught up in the swarm of newly forming feelings.

_____

You sat in the break room when your phone buzzed to life, ‘Saturday at 7?’

You were about to type out a yes when you forgot you worked closing at the bar. Your thumbs moved quickly to tap out the reply ‘Working, sorry :/ the pitfalls of bartending. Sunday at 7?’

You were nervous telling him no and asking to change plans. You hated not being able to make things work but you only just met the man and the weekend tips were killer, it’s not like you could turn the shift down.

‘Ah yes, almost forgot. Sunday works too, I’ll text you the details. What’s your address? I’ll pick you up’

Oh, God. Steve can’t see my building! His cufflinks probably cost more than my rent!

‘I’ll just meet you there, don’t worry about it’

‘Not a chance, doll. Just tell me where and I’ll come get you’

You let out a worried sigh but knew you had to let it go. You sent him your address and went back to work.

____

Saturday was maybe the longest day in your entire week, in fact you loathed it. Mornings at the store followed by running immediately to the bar. Last call in New York was 4am so it’s a good thing you didn’t try to make brunch plans with Steve for Sunday. But ultimately both your shifts passed without major incident and now it was Sunday and you tried to ready yourself the best you could.

The place Steve mentioned was fancy, you knew that much from a quick search. Panicking instantly upon realizing you don’t really have any nice clothes you turned to your most fashionable roommate for help. She loaned you a cocktail dress that was revealing enough to draw interest without giving everything away. You just hoped Steve would like it.

‘Downstairs, doll. Silver BMW’ you exhaled. Hoo boy, here we go.

____

Steve handed his keys to the valet and rushed around to open your door for you. You held his hand and you clambered onto the sidewalk in your heels. His warm hand on the small of your back as he steered you towards the doors was a comforting weight.

Dinner has been lovely so far, he chose a place that wasn’t completely white-glove but was upscale enough to make you feel only a little underdressed.

You joked back and forth with him over the course of the meal, talked about your lives, and even found out you both have a guilty pleasure for cheesy rom-coms. It wasn’t until dessert and your third glass of wine came that you realized how much time had passed. You frowned slightly thinking of the early morning ahead of you followed by a long night at the bar.

“What’s wrong, doll?”

“Oh, nothing I just didn’t realize how late it was, I’ve got both jobs tomorrow it’ll just be a long day that’s all” you tried to wave it off but Steve frowned in response.

“Quit the bar” he stated.

“What?”

“Quit the bar. This is your card, I’ve already loaded $3000 on there. Put me in touch with your landlord and I’ll get you taken care of.” He slid the card across the table to you. Your name printed on the front. This got real very quickly.

“Steve, that’s.” You were in shock, a loss for words almost “that’s too much, I don’t know what to say.” You felt embarrassed taking the money. You knew that was the essence of your arrangement but actually taking his money had you feeling uneasy.

“Honey, this is what I’m here for. Let me take care of you. Give up your late nights. I wanna take you out on the weekends and you’ll need to be available for events. You can stay at the store if you want but quit the bar, you don’t need it.”

You took a deep sigh. He did say he wanted you to be comfortable quitting one of your jobs; it's just making the change that scares you. But something about Steve felt safe so you nodded and looked up to him.

“I’ll put in my two weeks”

“Good girl” he patted your knee and you involuntarily clenched your thighs. He smirked at that but let it go.

____

A few months had come and gone since that night and your time with Steve had been great. Only working the one job gave you so much more free time. You'd spent a good chunk of it just trying to form a normal sleep schedule but all the time you spent with Steve made it difficult. Not that you minded especially since your allowance was monthly but he’d showered you with gifts here and there.

They started off small, perfume, chocolates and flowers, or a simple pair of white gold hoops that reminded him of you. They gradually became pricier and more elaborate. You’d felt guilty accepting it all at first but he was insistent you deserve the best. He had even mentioned you moving out maybe finding a better place but you reminded him you needed to go slow.

He’d also been nothing short of a gentleman. Out in public at least, you’d learned the hard way that he was an absolute animal in bed. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep your hands off of him.

Something you had appreciated about Steve is that he never made you feel bad or less than for being broke. Never held his money over your head like leverage. You’d felt equal to him in all aspects, understanding you had just as much say as he did.

Still, there was a small nagging voice in the back of your head that reminded you Steve is not your boyfriend. This isn't a relationship and he's looking to get something out of just like you are. But if you were being honest you were catching feelings, it was hard not to when the man was giving you the fantasy. You decided to push that voice aside whenever it came up and let yourself be swept away. Maybe that would bite you in the ass but for now you were happy.

____

You were buzzed into Steve’s building and on the elevator ride up to his penthouse your phone buzzed. ‘I have to make a quick call- I’ve got a present waiting for you in the living room.’ You couldn’t help but feel giddy.

The doors opened and Steve was nowhere in sight but as you entered the living room a bag from Chanel and the Apple Store sat on the table. Oh god, what this time? I swear this man is too much.

You opened the smaller bag from Chanel first and found a beautiful black and white evening bag. It was sleek and simple, very much to your tastes. You were nervous to open the Apple bag, Steve always went overboard. Shakily removing the paper you pulled out the slim case in disbelief. A MacBook Air and a pair of AirPod Pros. The man well and truly spoiled you.

“You said you didn’t have a computer.” His voice came from behind you and startled you.

“Steve, this is too much. You’re too much.” You swung your arms around his neck and kissed him.

“Nothin’s too much for you, doll.” He kissed the top of your head.

“Think you could take a couple days off of work? I just got off the phone and confirmed plans for my house in Nice.”

A trip? France?? Oh my god. How is this my life? You felt so overwhelmed that you grabbed Steve by the collar and brought his face down to meet you in a kiss. His tongue swiped your lips and you granted him entrance. Moaning into his mouth your hands traveled up into his hair, pulling softly and coaxing a groan out of him.

He guided you to sit on the couch and brought you down into his lap. You ground down onto him and felt his hard-on through his slacks. Your hand moved slowly to undo the buttons of his shirt as he kissed down your jaw towards your neck. You sighed softly when he found your sweet spot and started sucking.

He helped you take off his shirt while you got started on his belt and undid his pants. He lifted himself off the couch slightly to move them down to his knees, taking his briefs with them. His cock stood proud and an angry red, leaking at the tip.

“I wanna ride you, I can’t wait.” You pouted as you writhed against him in need.

Steve tutted at you “that’s no way to get what you want. Ask me nicely, baby. Beg to ride my cock,”

You ground down even harder and whined. “Please, sir, please let me ride your cock. I need to feel you, I can’t wait any longer please.”

“Good Girl” Steve's hands flipped up your skirt and found your panties, ripping them to shreds. They were La Perla and had cost a pretty penny but he didn’t care.

He lined himself up and brought you down harshly gripping your hips. You moaned loudly in surprise and satisfaction and wasted no time moving back and forth. Steve made you feel so close and connected to him whenever he fucked you but he still made you feel sordid and dirty. You couldn’t get enough of the feeling, you’d gladly chase it.

His eyes were hooded as watched you chase your own pleasure and giving him some in return. His hands kneaded your ass and smacked it just to get a gasp out of you. He grabbed the back of your head and brought you in for a searing kiss that was all teeth and tongue. He’d nip at you and lick the pain away.

His hips met yours, finding your rhythm and speeding you both up when he gripped your hips.

“Can’t wait to have me, you had to fuck me on the couch huh?” Steve panted, “my dirty girl. So fuckin’ gorgeous.”

You put your forehead against his and went harder, pushing your clit to grind against the muscles of his abs.

“Only yours, sir.” Your orgasm was building. Steve was a pretty relaxed dom but you still needed permission.

“Sir, please let me cum I can’t wait any longer” you tried your best to slow your movements a bit.

“I think you can hold it baby, I wanna enjoy you a little longer”.

You could only whine in response and tried to slow your pace but his grip on your hips and his own movements pushed you further and further towards the edge. You tried to squirm out of his grasp but his hands only tightened. It felt like forever until Steve finally gave you permission.

“Go on baby, cum for me you earned it. Fuck your self on my cock and cum all over me”

Your movements were frantic, desperate to chase your orgasm when finally the perfect angle of his cock inside you and your clit against him set you free. You cried out above him and dug your nails in deep.

Steve held you firmly in place and started slamming into you from below, finally letting himself think about cumming. All you could do was hold on for mercy. Moments later he brought you down onto him one final slam as he came inside of you with a cry.

The only sound in the room was both of you trying to catch your breath. You sighed again and collapsed against him, nuzzling your face into his neck. He kissed the side of your face and let you make yourself at home while he caressed your back.

____

One shower and two more orgasms later you were both clean and made your way to the kitchen. Steve was gathering the ingredients for dinner when you hugged him from behind. Your head resting against his back. Steve twisted around and hugged you in full. You both stayed like that for a moment until you looked up at him.

You were so content. Moments like this where you were just domestic were some of the best between you. It wasn’t about money or material, it was just the two of you making dinner and enjoying each other, no barriers.

“Are you really going to take me to France?” Your voice came out muffled against his chest.

“Of course, doll. After dinner I want you to use your new laptop to buy some outfits for the trip. I left my card in your new purse.”

You lifted onto your tiptoes and kissed his nose.

“You really do think of everything, don’t you?”

“What can I say? I’m a planner” he retorted.

You didn’t know it yet but Steve was going to ask you to become official while you were there. He wasn’t worried in the slightest. In fact he’d never been so sure about something in his life.

[maddiwrites]

Precious Life

Pairing: JJ x reader

REQUEST (From anon): could you write a jj maybank imagine where he and the reader are together, but she pushes him away due to her mental health. she has insecurity issues after her last boyfriend and her bestfriend passed a few months ago leaving her horribly depressed. finally, she opens up to him and its just super fluffy and he showers her in love and support.

Note: Thank you so much for the request and I’m so sorry it took me a while to write, but hopefully you like it. I kinda suck at fluff, so I’m sorry if it’s not enough fluff. Let me know what you think! 

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: mentions of death of a friend, mental trauma from a past relationship, depression

You don’t know when it happened - whether it was overnight or throughout the past few weeks. Unlike everyone else who was excited about the summer finally beginning after what felt like the longest school year of your life, your days felt darker as you dreaded the upcoming season. You use to love summer - hell, you thrived during the hottest months of the year. You loved outdoor dining, surfing, beach parties, going out on the boat in the marsh with your friends. But now the thought of doing those activities made you want to vomit.

After your best friend passed away only a few months ago, you lost interest in all those activities. Because they all reminded you of her. She was the one who brought you out of you shell and pulled you out of your dark place when the world felt too unbearable to live in anymore. And now she was gone. Just like that. Life is so precious, you remember people telling you that at her funeral. They weren’t wrong. But you never thought your life could compare to the one of your beautifully made best friend.

Her birthday is next month in the early weeks of July. Her mother wants to hold a small party as if she was still there to celebrate. Of course she wants you there, but you don’t know if you’d be able to handle it. A birthday party for a dead girl? What an obvious reminder that she’s not there. It’s going to be the first birthday you spend without her. The tradition of getting smoothie bowls and going to the local zoo and finishing the night off with a bonfire and beer cans you stole out of your parents fridge is completely destroyed. Gone just like she is.

The only person making your miserable life a little more bearable is your wonderful boyfriend, JJ Maybank. Despite only being together for about two months, he became your closest friend. Your best friend would have loved him and would even be impressed that you went for such a bad boy. Your type usually consisted of stuck up boys with egos bigger than their daddy’s bank account. Sometimes you picture a life where your best friend and JJ knew each other. They’d probably be best of friends. Your friend would be weary of him at first, but JJ would work his usual charm and win her over in seconds. It’s what he did with you.

You met him after getting really close with Kiara when her dad hired you as another waitress at the Wreck. You remembered the day he first walked into the restaurant with his friends. You felt his eyes on you the entire time. Feeling bold, you walked over to his table and asked to borrow his phone. You opened his snap chat app and took a selfie with the two of you and said, “Here’s a picture if you want it to last longer.” And that was how the love story of JJ Maybank and Y/N Y/L/N started. JJ still has the picture saved as his Lock Screen. It makes you smile every time you see it.

Your life with JJ was nearly perfect. What started as a flirty banter became something serious. Kie knew JJ was in deep because he never complained about how slow you wanted to take the relationship. Aka sex. Usually JJ is the kind of guy who will go get what he wants. And if that’s a quick lay, that’s what he’ll go searching for. Someone that won’t make him work too hard for it. But with you? It was different. Sure he wanted to explore that part of the relationship with you, but only when you were ready. It was hard for him some days, especially when you wore his hoodies or kissed him so deeply that he swore his skin was on fire.

Although JJ has been nothing but a respectful KING about your decision to wait, you can’t help but feel guilty about keeping him waiting. It’s not that you didn’t want to - because god did you want to. But it was hard for you to give someone all of you like that. Part of you blames that on your own insecurities and the other part knows it’s trauma due to your past relationship. You never told anyone the kind of vile and disgusting things your ex boyfriend would say to your face. Well, you confessed to your best friend on the night he broke up with you. You physically had to hold her back by her hair to keep her from setting his house on fire. She tried to make you see that everything he said about you was wrong. Dumb, fat, whore, useless, poor, ugly. You wanted to believe her, but it was like your ex had physically tattooed the words onto your skin and it was hard to see anything else. When things were getting heated between you and JJ and you felt his hand dip under the thin material of your t shirt, you would pull away, afraid that he would feel the rolls on your stomach. You never let him see you without makeup on. And even wore baggy clothing so you wouldn’t have to worry about showing too much skin. You didn’t want him getting the wrong impression.

JJ tried asking Kie about it. JJ is smarter than people give him credit for. He had a feeling that your choosing to not have sex ran deeper than just not being ready. Which is totally fine but he wanted to be there for you if you needed help. Of course Kie had no idea. But just like JJ, she noticed you pulling away from the group slowly. She thought maybe it was the stress of finals as the end of the school year wrapped up, but then summer came around and the less you did.

“She’s been off, right?” JJ asks Kie. His legs bounces up and down anxiously and he chews on the nub of his thumb nail. “Do you notice it too?”

Kie doesn’t know how to answer. Of course she wants to be honest with her best friend, but she also doesn’t want to hurt him. “I mean, she’s been kind of distant with us. Maybe she’s been busy. I mean she’s gotten a few of her shifts covered in the last two weeks.”

JJ shakes his head. “I don’t know. I can’t shake off this feeling that it’s something more than that. Something I’m missing. I mean...” he sighs and takes his fingers through his hair. “Do you think it’s me? Did I do something? Maybe she feels pressured by this whole sex thing-“

“No. Of course not.” Kie says. She knows JJ would never make you do anything you don’t want to do, and he would never make you feel guilty about it. “You should talk to her about it next time you see her. I mean, I could bring it up too but I think it would be best coming from you.”

JJ nods and accepts this answer from Kie. It doesn’t make him feel any less anxious about the state of your relationship but at least he’s not crazy for thinking you’re pulling away.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He doesn’t see you for another week. You claimed that you’ve been busy with work and college prep. JJ didn’t buy it but he also didn’t push it. He saw you when you showed up at his window at the Chateau. 

You’d come after having one of your episodes - one where you can’t sleep or eat or even focus on one thought. You don’t know why you came to the Chateau. You knew JJ would be here but you didn’t think he’d be able to help you. No one ever can.

“Hey,” JJ flicks on the lamp from the bedside table as he watches your figure squeeze through the window. “What are you doing here?”

You shrug. “I - uh. I don’t know, exactly. Just wanted to see you, I guess.”

JJ tilts his head and narrows his eyes at you. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” You lie. 

JJ nods, but he doesn’t believe you. “Then come here.” He opens up his arms for you to fall into. When you do, he pulls you in close with your head laying on his bare chest. You focus on his steady heartbeat and his warm arms around your body. You miss this. Being with JJ whole heartedly - mind and body. Recently it’s only been your body - your mind off somewhere else. 

“Did I wake you?” You ask softy. 

JJ kisses the top of your head. “No.” 

When you close your eyes, you picture your friend again. Her smile and laugh. Things that should have made you happy. But they don’t. Not anymore.

You don’t remember when or how it happened - how you ended up being below a hovering JJ as his lips peppered your skin. You remember starting the heavy make out session, hoping to distract yourself from the depressing thoughts of your dead best friend.

However, the deeper you got into it, the deeper you got in your own thoughts. First about your friend and then about your ex. What he would say if he were the one above you - “I thought you were going to the gym?” “You didn’t shave?” “You could use some sun.” - His voice rang in your head like a screeching record and you couldn’t do it anymore.

“Stop,” you mumble softly enough that JJ doesn’t hear it until you physically push him off of you and say more loudly. “J, stop!”

As his back hits the mattress again, he holds his hands up in surrender. He didn’t realize he was doing anything wrong and his heart races with the thought that maybe he hurt you or had gone too far.

You quickly pick up your tossed shirt and bag while avoiding all kinds of eye contact with him. You felt embarrassed. It’s not his fault that you can physically feel every skin roll on your body or think you can smell every bad odor radiating off your skin. JJ has never been anything but a prince to you since you started dating. You felt bad that you couldn’t give him what he wanted. Sex should be a normal part of your relationship yet you couldn’t seem to give him your all just yet.

“I’m sorry. Did I-“ JJ starts to apologize but you cut him off.

“No. I’m sorry. I should go. I should have never come -“

“Hey,” JJ sits up and tries to reach for you, but you yank your hand closer to your body when his fingers graze your skin. JJ frowns. “You don’t have to go. We can just go to sleep. Or I can sleep on the couch.”

You pause at the bedroom door with your back to him. You squeeze your eyes tight to stop the tears from cascading down your cheeks. You hate this. Feeling like another burden to someone else. Not being able to give the one you love everything they want. It’s not fair. It feels like everyday your days just keeping getting darker and darker as if the sun never rises. And you don’t know how long you’ll be able to take it.

“Y/N...” JJ softly calls out for you. He can see the tension in your shoulders and your knuckles turning white as you clench around the door knob. He knows something isn’t right. That there’s more than meets the eye when it comes to what you’re going through. He’d never force you to tell him anything. But he wants you to feel comfortable enough that you know you have the option to talk if you wanted to.

“I’m sorry, J...” your voice cracks which makes JJ’s heart break a little more. Still with your back to him, you shake your head. “I can’t be what you want me to be.”

“Y/N -“

You finally turn to look at him. “You deserve someone who will give you everything you want. Someone who makes you happy - someone who is happy.” You sniffle back the tears. “I’m sorry. That’s just not me.”

Tears prick at JJ’s eyes. He wishes he can say he is surprised, but he honestly saw this coming. You’ve been distant and hard to read. He thought you were falling out of love with him for weeks. But that doesn’t make this any less hard to hear.

“Don’t do this,” JJ shakes his head. “We can work this out -“

“I can’t do it anymore,” you shake your head as one lone tear falls down your cheek. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You rip the door open and stumble through John B’s house before JJ could say anything else. You throat feels on fire as you bite back a heart wrenching scream from what you’ve just done. You probably ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to you. No surprise there, you think. Nothing in your life seems to ever go as planned.

You run home until your legs feel like they’re literally on fire. By the time your back hits the mattress of your own bed, your muscles feel like jello, and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to walk again.

You cry into your pillow until the world around you fades to darkness.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Its been about two weeks since you last saw JJ and the Pogues. You didn’t think it was possible, but without them, your life somehow felt even emptier. Days feel like years. Your body feels so heavy, it’s hard to get out of bed most days. You can’t remember the last time you showered. Your skin on your face feels dry from all tears that have been shed. Some days you want to pick up the phone and call JJ or Kie, just to hear their voice. But you don’t. Because you don’t want to feel like a burden to either one of them. You broke up with JJ. You’re not their problem anymore.

With your head tucked deep into your pillow, you feel the corner of your bed dip as if someone had just sat down. You figured it was just your mom checking in on you again for the hundredth time. She doesn’t say anything and you don’t acknowledge her either. 

Your phone beeps with another text message from JJ. You peek your eye open at your phone and slowly reach for it. You hesitate opening the message, afraid that whatever he has to say will only break your heart and make you feel like an even worse human being.

“You’re seriously not going to answer that?” The person sitting on your bed says, making you snap around to face the girl who is for sure not your mother, but your best friend. The same best friend who’s buried in a cemetery fifteen minutes away from your house. 

She looks exactly how you remember her. Long beautiful hair that frames her perfect jawline. Tan almost glistening skin that radiates off the sunlight that shines through your window. Eyes sparkling with life and mischief.

You look at her with wide eyes and an open mouth. You were truly at a loss for words. Confused was an understatement. It didn’t make sense.

She laughs at your reaction and shakes her head. “Do you need a minute?”

“I don’t - how - am I - am I dreaming?” You stutter. 

“No I’m just the prettiest zombie you’ve ever seen,” She says sarcastically and holds her grin. You blink at her. “Yes, you’re dreaming. Well, kinda.” She stands up and faces you. “You’re definitely dreaming but I’m in control of visiting you in your sleep. Kinda cool, right? It’s a ghost trick I recently learned.”

“I’m officially going crazy,” You say.

“You’re right. You are going crazy,” Your friend rounds to the other side of the bed to come face to face with you as you sit up and rub your eyes. “But not because you’re seeing me. Because you’re not seeing JJ.”

You drop your hands at your side and glare at her. “You don’t even know him.”

“I know of him,” She says. “He’s a Pogue. A hot one too. And he’s head over heels in love with you. What else do I need to know?”

You shake your head. “It’s complicated.”

“Why? He loves you and you love him.”

You flip your comforter off you body and walk past the girl who loves sticking her nose in other people’s business. You always told her it would get her in trouble one day. But you secretly loved that she was so nosy. Because she cared and always gave the best advice. 

You walk towards your dresser and stare at yourself in the mirror above it. The bags under your eyes are dark and your skin pale. Your hair is greasy from your lack of washing it and you’re starting to realize you’re beginning to smell.

Your friend sighs and sits back on your bed. “He’s in your head,” She says glumly.

You scoff, “I think if anyone’s in my head, it’s you.”

She glares back at you. “You know what I mean. Y/Ex’s/N. He’s still tormenting you after almost a year of not seeing him.”

You shake your head. “No I’m -”

“Come on, Y/N. You can’t lie to me. You’re still hiding your laugh behind your hand because he called it obnoxious. You hide yourself under baggy clothing and you won’t have sex with JJ because Y/Ex’s/N said you were bad at it -”

“Stop.”

“Clearly you weren’t bad at it since he got to come every single time. If anyone was bad at it, it was him.”

“Y/BFF’s/N.”

“What? It’s true,” She shrugs. That’s what you always loved about her. She was unapologetic. She meant what she said every time no matter what. You wished you had her confidence. She sighs and moves over on the bed so she’s closer to you. “Y/N, you deserve to be happy,” she says more softly. “And JJ makes you happy. Why are you pushing him away? Why can’t you let yourself be happy?”

“Because you’re not here!” You finally kick down the wall that’s been building in your head since your friend’s death. You never talked about her with anyone. Not even with her own family. She was your person - the girl who was going to stand by your side at your wedding, be the god mother to your children, your shoulder to cry on, and your therapist when you needed to rant. And now she’s not here and it feels wrong living the life you were supposed to live together. “How can I be happy when you’re not here?”

“Y/N...”

“No,” You cry. “It’s not fair. You’re supposed to be here. I can’t pretend like everything’s normal when it’s not. This was supposed to be the best summer of our lives and then you just left.” You snap your fingers. “Just like that. Out of nowhere. And if that can happen to you then it can happen to -”

You cut yourself off, afraid to say what you really were thinking. You didn’t want to put that kind of energy into the atmosphere because the thought haunted you every night when you were alone with your thoughts. You never thought you could lose someone like you lost your best friend. You didn’t think that would ever happen to you. But it did. And it put life in perspective for you. You don’t think you’d be able to live through another loss like that so falling for JJ was scary to you. Because if something ever happened to him, you wouldn’t know what to do. 

“Hey,” She stands up to embrace you in a hug. You sob into her shoulder and squeeze her tightly against you. You don’t want to let her go. She feels so real. You’re actually touching her. “Look at me.” She eventually pulls away to look at you. She offers a sad grin and pushes your hair out of your eyes. “I’m sorry I died. But you get to live! You know how jealous I am that you have the ability to eat smoothie bowls every day and go surfing and date cute boys and go on road trips with your friends and family? You don’t even know how good you have it. And on top of that, you have the hottest guy on the island fawning over you and you’re too sad about me to even realize it. I don’t want you to live this way -” she motions to your messy room. “I want you to take advantage of the life you have. If I can’t live it, then you have to live it for me.”

“I don’t want to do it without you,” You cry.

She shakes her head. “You’ll never be without me, chick. I’m always going to be with you. Besides, I like JJ. You’d be stupid to let him go.”

You bite your bottom lip and feel a rush of heat climb up your neck to your cheeks. “He is really good to me.” You knew your friend was right. She was always right. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” She says. You both turn when you hear someone knock on your door. She looks back at you and smirks. “That’s my cue.”

“Wait -”

“Don’t worry, chick. Remember what I said. I’m not far away.”

You gasp awake wrapped in your sheets with dried drool stuck to your chin. You sit up and look around frantically for any sign of your best friend. But she’s gone. So is any sign that she might have been here. You rub the dried saliva off your chin with your fingers and sigh up at the ceiling. It felt so real.

Your mom lets herself into your room and smiles at you. “Oh, good. You’re awake.”

“Yeah...” You say slowly. You think back to everything your best friend said to you in your dream. How lucky you are to live a life that she can’t. For the first time ever, she was jealous of you. For a life you’re taking for granted. Although it was hard to be happy without her by your side, you knew she didn’t want you sulking around for her. Some days are going to be hard. That’s just the inevitable. But you have the ability to make it easier. It all starts with you. “I think I’m going to take a shower.”

“Really?” Your mom says, surprised by the effort you’re making so early in the morning. 

“Yeah,” You grin and walk past her to get to your bathroom. Today is going to be a new day, you say to yourself as you let the warm water rain over you. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Two days later was your best friend’s birthday. A day you’ve been dreading for weeks. Your heart felt heavy and your mind clouded as you moved around your room getting ready for the day. As much as you wanted to stay in bed, you knew it wouldn’t be what she wanted. You haven’t spoken to her since that night, but you knew she was quietly watching over you. 

You throw on a pair of sports shorts and a long sleeve t shirt. The day is cold and foggy so you knew the cemetery would be cold. Your parents offer you a small smile as you walk out the door with a bouquet of flowers and a blanket.

You slowly come to a stop as you’re walking to your car parked on the street in front of your house when you recognize a familiar truck parked behind it. JJ steps out of the driver’s seat and approaches you with his hands tucked in his short pockets. He smiles sheepishly at you and glances down at the flowers. 

“Hey,” He says. 

“Hey,” You shuffle awkwardly on your feet. Why did he have to look so good? He’s dressed in a Coors Light tank and cargo shorts. His golden hair is perfectly quaffed and his skin perfectly sun kissed. “How are you?”

“Good, good,” He nods. He hates that your relationship has resulted to this. Awkward small talk. “I’m sorry. Am I catching you at a bad time?” He motions to the flowers. 

“Um,” You glance between the flowers and him and shrug. “No. I was actually just going to see a friend. Would you like to come?” You remember all the things your friend had to say about JJ. How he loves you, you love him, and he makes you happy. You messed up by breaking up with him, but maybe you can make it right by explaining everything to him. 

“Oh,” JJ looks surprised that you’re offering time to hang out. He was afraid you were going to push him away and shut your front door in his face. He didn’t know what was going to happen. He just wanted to see you. “Yeah. Definitely.”

You smile. “Great. But we have to stop for smoothie bowls on the way.”

JJ laughs. “No problem.”

Surprisingly, it wasn’t awkward being alone with JJ after all this time. The two of you spent the car ride talking about the other Pogues and what they’ve been up to in the past couple of weeks. It was bittersweet talking about them because of how much you missed them, but you hoped that they would accept you back into their friend group after you explained to JJ why you’ve been so distant. 

“Uh, Y/N.” JJ says when he parks the car.

“Yeah?” 

“This is a cemetery.”

You can’t help but giggle at his apprehension. “I know. Come on.”

JJ carries the flowers and you carry the brown paper bag that holds your three smoothie bowls and a blanket. You lead him through the wet grass, past dozens of tomb stones until you find where your best friend peacefully lays. 

JJ stays silent as he looks between you and the tombstone. The years etched onto the tombstone indicate that someone your age is buried here. He quickly puts the puzzle pieces together and tries to read your facial expression. Your sadly grinning at the tomb stone when you feel JJ’s eyes on the side of your face. 

You lay the blanket down and offer half of it for him to sit next to you. He does but stays quiet, waiting for you to explain whenever you’re ready.

“This is Y/BFF’s/N,” You introduce her. “She was my best friend.” JJ nods and lets you continue as you stare at the tombstone. “She died a few weeks before we met.” You pull out the smoothie bowls and pass one to JJ and place the other one in front of the flowers placed by the grave. “Today’s her birthday and  we had this tradition that we would get smoothie bowls every morning of our birthday.” You pop open the lid of your bowl and push around the berries laying on top with your spoon. “I know I owe you an explanation.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to...”

“Trust me,” You smile at him, “I do. She would kill me if I didn’t.” 

You told JJ about the mental toll her death had on your life. Even with JJ by your side, you felt her missing presence heavily all day every day. It wasn’t that you weren’t happy in your relationship with JJ, it was just that something was missing and it was something you couldn’t bring back to your life. Because of her loss, you fell back into a depression you once experienced towards the end of your last relationship. You told JJ about the mental anguish your ex left you with and why you don’t feel comfortable opening yourself up to him, both physically and mentally. You promised it wasn’t because of JJ but because of your ex and the things he said to you. With your friend’s birthday coming up, everything was weighing you down mentally and you didn’t want to hinder JJ’s life any longer. You told him you thought breaking up with him was best for him so he didn’t have to deal with your problems and he can find a girl that makes him happy. You regret ever walking away from him that night. Your friend was your person, but now so is JJ. You want him to know everything about you. Good and bad. He deserves to know the truth.

“She would’ve liked you,” You brush your fallen tears away with the back of your hand. “You guys are alike in a lot of ways.”

“Yeah?” JJ smiles at you. “How?”

“She made me laugh and always pushed me past my comfort zone. She challenged me to do more with my life. And she never gave up on me,” You grin up at him. “I’m sorry for pushing you away.”

“You don’t have to be,” JJ says. “I get it. No one deserve to lose a friend like this. I don’t know what I would do if this happened to John B or Pope or even Kie.”

“I still love you, J. And I want to give you every part of me. I just...need some help opening up.”

JJ sets down his smoothie bowl and turns to face you. His hand caresses the side of your face and pushes your hair back behind your ear. “Hey....we can take it as slow as you want. I’m not going anywhere.”

You smile at him. “So, you wanna try this again?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

JJ leans in to kiss you on your lips. Butterflies erupt from your stomach and fireworks shoot across every nerve in your body. When you eventually pull away, you’re smiling because even when your best friend isn’t here to physically push you, she has her own way of getting into your head and making sure you don’t take the life you have in front of you for granted. And you couldn’t be more grateful for that.

Unbeknownst to you, your friend watches from a far with her arms crossed and a smirk on her face. Slightly shaking her head, she says to you, “You’re gonna be just fine, chick.”

[heyheydidjaknow]

So you know when you write about the same character that isn't even yours for almost half a year and you think, “Hey, why not expand a little bit and try writing for a different fandom?” and you end up writing for someone you know very little about because you were too impatient to play through all of the source material and you have to pray that it isn’t a blatant bastardization? Yeah, me too. Anyways, here’s this.

‘They’re going to die someday.’

You are next to him, your legs crossed, sat on the ground as you continue a story that now went in one ear and out the other— something about someone causing some trouble for a personal friend of yours. You were grinning from ear to ear as you orate to an invisible audience in front of the two of you, and as you took a sip from your apple cider, the thought struck him with such an unprecedented, dizzying force that, had he not been seated, he would have stumbled from the sheer magnitude of it.

He had, of course, been aware of your mortality. It was impossible not to be aware of it, given the type of person you were; you spoke often of your own death, laughing about it more often than prematurely grieving, but more noticeably planning for when you would have to die, hopefully, according to you, either by some dramatic and romantic disease— Phthisis— or in your sleep. The god would have been foolish to believe that you would— or, indeed, could— live as long as he would, but as was with the other citizens of his kingdom, he had simply decided to not think of it, to cross that bridge when you got to it.

But at that moment, as you sat there, simply wiping off the blood from sitting on a particularly sharp rock, hardly caring about such a blatant reminder of your mortality, he can not help but be reminded by just how fragile you are.

“Hey, Y/N?”

You glanced over at him. “Yeah?”

“Who do you think will take care of the funeral arrangements?” He fiddled with the buttons on his sleeves, not quite meeting your gaze. “When you die, I mean.”

You thought for a moment, shrugged. “I guess my family. What about you?”

He rested his head on his knees. “If I had to ask someone to perform the arrangement,” he admitted, “I’d probably ask you.”

“Yeah?” You grinned. “I don’t know you held me in such high esteem, Venti.”

“Yeah, well,” he smiled weakly, “it’s not like I have anyone else to ask.”

You pushed him playfully. “Rude.” He heard you rest your head on one of the rocks.”If I die before you, I’ll send you an invite to my funeral.”

“Promise?”

You hummed in confirmation.

The silence that fell between you two was unusually heavy.

“Why do you ask?”

He leaned back, joining you at your side. “I don’t know,” he sighed. “Just been thinking about it more recently.” A rueful chuckle bubbled up his throat. “I’ve probably spent too much time around you.”

“Probably,” you agree, crossing your legs as you stare up at the stars. “But, hey? It gives you things to write about.”

He smiled at that. You are not wrong, he supposed, but a bit out of the know. He was not a stranger to writing songs about grief. It had just been a while since the sting of it was as fresh as it was now, and like a picked scab, he struggled to keep his quiet dread from spilling over. “I guess so.”

“But you know “ you shuffle closer to him, “if you’re finally going to join the Painfully-Aware-Of-Your-Own-Mortality club, you can’t let it get you too down. You’ll drive yourself crazy if you do.”

“Wisdom coming from you?” He reached down, taking your hand gently in his, thumb on your pulse.

“I know,” you grinned, “terrifying.” The stars swam in your eyes, and you shivered in the cold night air. “Almost as bad an omen as you getting introspective all of a sudden.”

“Is it?”

You closed your eyes. “Yeah,” you yawned. “It’s creepy. Like how right before the inciting incident of a book, the characters talk about death and then one of them dies.”

“Or when right before the climax,” he offered, “right before the battle’s won, one of them dies?”

“There you go.” A smile graced your lips, features highlighted by the moonlight. “You get it.”

His fingers squeezed your hand a second. “It’s lucky we aren’t in a book, then.”

“You don’t know.” Your eyes drifted open a second, closed again. “I heard that some people think that—“ you yawned again— “that we’re all living for someone else’s amusement. It’s a whole thing.”

“Do they?” He rolled over on top of you, resting his head on your chest with his ear pressed against your heart. It thumped so assuredly, unflinchingly, and the impossibility of it stopping made his chest feel hollow.

You nodded. “And they say that, if that’s true,” your other arm wrapped around them, “then it’s a whole deterministic thing, right? Because writers care about how they write stories, so everything’s set up, if you believe in that sort of thing.”

He closed his eyes softly. “I’m not sure how I feel about that. Someone controlling all my actions, I mean.”

“Well,” you sighed, body relaxing against the earth, “you don’t have to believe in it. Isn’t that your whole shtick, not having to do things?”

“It is, but that doesn’t mean I have control over that.”

Your fingers gently played with his hair. “Venti,” you declare, “we don’t have any control over anything ever. We fight an endless stream of uphill battles based on a hollow belief that the grass will be greener on the other side, and when it turns out that it always is, we feel bad about it.” You squeeze his hand back. “We struggle against our bodies to live long enough to do even the most basic of tasks. It’s all we can do not to keel over.”

He laughed dryly and your boisterous delivery. “You are very optimistic.”

“But,” you continue, ignoring his comment, “that’s what makes life so valuable; it’s so hard to live at all that even being able to talk to you is worth more than almost any gem or vision or whatever thing you want to compare it to.”

“Almost?”

“I will kill a man for good hash browns.” Your chest shook with quiet laughter. “But you get what I’m saying.”

He thought for a moment, nodded. “I think so.” He smiled again, more comfortable now. “You are acting very wise tonight, Y/N.”

“Hey,” you protested, “I’m totally wise! Just not most of the time.”

“A broken clock is right twice a day.”

“Don’t push me, little man.” You looked down at him, pressing your hand against his face. “I can and will push you off.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist tightly. “I’m stronger than I look.”

The rest of the night was a pleasant one. There was a lot of quiet laughter about this and that, huddling in each other's warmth. You had to leave him after a while. You offered to walk him home, but he had insisted on staying out a bit longer. “Go on,” he waved you off, smiling after you. “I’ll be there before morning, I promise.” He would be.

His hand stretched out towards the stars, fingers flexing every once and a while as he examined it for the umpteenth time. It was not a foreign object anymore; when he was younger, he had taken a while to get used to the idea that he was attached to it, for his head to wrap around the fact that it was not his. It had taken him a while to get used to that idea, too, that he was gone forever. As an immortal being, that part of humanity was always hard to accept. There were ways, he supposed, that he could keep you from dying. If other beings like himself had become gods, it was certainly possible for you to join him.

But he could not honestly say that he wanted that for you. Immortality was undeniably terrible. It was a long, unending sludge of an existence, being unable to relate to the bare minimum in regards to humanity. He could write thousands of songs, sing a thousand more, but he would never quite understand those he cared about. It was unfair to even consider it. Still… the idea of seeing you, skin pale, cool, eyes wide and glassy and blood dripping—

He shut his eyes, screwed them shut. Even if you had to die, you would not do it like that. You would die quietly, he knew, in bed. There was no reason you would have gotten involved in anything that gruesome.

It was like you had said. He just needed to hold onto you as long as you would allow. Before you slipped through his fingers, he needed to appreciate you as you were

Venti could only hope that you had enough time for him to remember you by.

List of Works

[vroomvroomkachowboi]

I Hear a Symphony

smut, fluff, angst: angst/fluff 

pairing: draco malfoy x reader(fem)

word count: 1.5k (1580)

summary: draco’s has been depressed ever since astoria died and he’s been learning to parent as a windowed single father, that is until he meets y/n

warning: death, depression, cursing 

a/n: inspired by a song i found on tik tok called “i hear a symphony” by cody fry, i totally recommend it, it’s soo good. ik i said i was gonna write a fred imagine, but dang i’ve been getting so much inspo to write draco imagines. ik astoria died when scorpius was 13, but let’s pretend she died much earlier, also don’t know much abt astoria, so if anything is wrong, i’m sorry. I'm super proud of this so without further ado, enjoy 

Draco still remembers the day of Astoria’s funeral. He held his son, Scorpius, crying as he clearly lacked his mother’s warm touch. Narcissa and Lucius gladly took in Scorpius while Draco mourned and grieved. He had entered his large, empty mansion, and laid in his California King sized bed, feeling the dent of his late wife’s body on the mattress.

He had to pick up his son a week later because he could not look at him, a reminder of Astoria, and the fact that she risked her health for him, for him to not be lonely after her blood curse took her, and yet he was still lonely. He felt a void in his body, and waking up every morning, it felt like it was just getting bigger.

He noticed he was getting very pale, so he decided to take Scorpius and himself to an ice cream parlor in Diagon Alley. The lady at the register had y/l y/h hair, and y/c eyes. As Draco got closer to the register, he noticed how young she was, possibly around his age. She gave him a sweet smile. “That’ll be 2 galleons sir,” She says. He pulls out 2 galleons out of his left pocket and puts it on the counter. “Thank you. Have a nice day-ooh, your son is going to need napkins.” She lets out a giggle and hands him more napkins. And she was right, Scorpius had strawberry ice cream all over his mouth, dripping from his chin. “Thank you.” He says quickly, and grabs Scorpius’ hand to sit down.

Draco often took Scorpius out so he wouldn’t be cooped up in the house all day. Draco also didn’t want to be reminded of the emptiness that his wife left behind.

They both decided to go to a park in London. Draco sat on a bench, observing his child interact with the muggle children, he knew Astoria would be happy about it. “Hello.” A familiar female voice startled him. He turned around to see the lady from the ice cream shop in Diagon Alley. “Hello.” He replied.

“I thought Malfoys hated muggles.” She says and takes a seat next to him. He shifts over, uncomfortably, but she didn’t seem to notice. “No, I stopped thinking that way. What about you? What are you doing here?” He says. “I came to visit my muggle family. My niece is over there.” She points to a young girl on the swings. He nodded, unsure of what to say.  

They both just sat in a somewhat comfortable silence, while watching all those happy young kids running around.

Suddenly, Scorpius’ screams were heard from across the playground. Draco got up quickly and rushed over to his son. Scorpius had scraped his knee really badly. Draco carried him over to the bench, with Y/n still sitting, in shock of the crying child. “I fell off the swings!” Scorpius whined when Draco asked what had happened. “Oh god, I can’t use my magic here! I’m sorry Scorp, I can’t heal you.” Scorpius seemed to cry louder.

Draco's heartbeat quickened. It felt like everything was closing in. ‘Astoria would’ve known what to do.’ He thought. He felt so unfit to be a single father.

“Don't worry Draco. I’ve got just what you need until you get home.” Y/n said. Grabbing a brown bottle and a cotton ball from her bag. “My brother gave me all this stuff in case my niece got hurt. What luck.” The bottle read “Hydrogen Peroxide”. Draco watched as she poured some on the ball. “This won’t hurt.” She said with a soft tone in her voice, and Scorpius nodded hesitantly. She dabbed the cotton ball on the wound, he watched as it bubbled.

“What is it doing?” Draco asked. “It’s cleaning the scrape. I’ll put a bandage on it, and you can fix it with magic when you get home.” Draco nodded. “Thank you. What do we say, Scorp?” He asked. “Thank you.” Little Scorpius said quietly and got up to play again.

“I believe I never got your name.” Draco asked. “Y/n.”

This was the start to a lovely friendship. Draco and Scorpius often went to visit Y/n at the ice cream parlor. When Draco needed Y/n, she’d always be there. Because she knew how vulnerable he was since the death of his wife, he also trusted her enough to babysit Scorpius, and thankfully Scorpius loved her.

Every night after her shift, she’d come over with pints of ice cream for all of them to eat. With her help, he was able to finally mourn healthily. No longer was he alone at nights, she would sleep in the guest room close to the master’s bedroom.

Although, something was wrong with Draco. He cared for his new friend, but his admiration for her grew the more he got to know her. He grew feelings for her quickly. ‘I can't do this to Astoria.’ Was always a reoccurring thought, but the more he tried to suppress it, the more his love grew.

It also seems that Scorpius viewed her as a second mother, he couldn’t hurt them.

He decided to give her the silent treatment. The less he hangs out with her, the faster his feelings fade, right?

It went on for a month. Slowly but surely, ignoring Y/n more and more. She spent most of her time with Scorpius, not that she minded, but Draco was acting strange.

So, enough was enough. She was going to confront him about it. So on a Friday night, she put the blonde 6-year-old to bed. Hearing the light snores from the young child, she slipped out quietly from his bedroom, looking for his father. She looked all around the large home, but found him outside, sitting on a bench by the tall grass hedges.

“Draco!” She called out. He flinches and hesitantly looks up at her. She sat by him. “What's up with you? You’ve been acting strange lately.” He stayed quiet. “You can trust me, Dray. We’ve been friends for over a year now.” He sighed loudly. “I...I like you.” He whispers.

“Oh.”

Draco shuts his eyes tightly, feeling as if it was a mistake. “I think you need to leave.” He hears Y/n’s feet shuffle on the grass. He let out a heavy breath and puts his face in his hands. Tears pour out of his grey eyes. ‘I can’t do this to Astoria.’ He felt so guilty. As if he was cheating on his wife. Why did he need to feel this way? What would Scorpius think? Would he think he's replacing his beloved mother?

“I’m sorry, Astoria.” He cried. He headed to the master’s bedroom and dozed off.

The next morning, Draco had realized it was a mistake to send Y/n home, because Scorpius had been nagging him all day about her whereabouts. It went on for an entire week as well. He also felt very lonely, she brought light into the dark home. He needed her, whether it was as a friend or a partner.

He decided to make amends, so he took Scorpius to the ice cream parlor.

Y/n heard the bell at the door, she was ready to serve her next customer, until she realized who it was. Draco and Scorpius. “What can I get you two?” She said professionally. “Strawberry.” Young Scorpius replies. So she scooped some strawberry ice cream for the 6 year old, and handed the cup to him.

Scorpius thanks her. “Go find us a seat. I’ll be there in a second, Scorp.” Draco says to him. Draco pats him on the head before sending him away. “And you sir?”

“Come on, Y/n. Don't be like that. I’m here to apologize.” He looks into her e/c eyes. She sighs loudly before going to face him. She walks towards him. “Talk.”

“I’m sorry. I apologize for ignoring you and for sending you off after confessing something big like that.” He grabs Y/n’s hands. “I have feelings for you. And I thought that if I ignored you, they might go away, but they didn't. Having a crush on you felt like I was cheating on Astoria. I felt guilty, and I didn't want Scorp to think I’m replacing his mother.” She furrowed her eyebrows but let him continue. “Ever since you entered my life, you’ve helped me become a better father and helped me mourn. You're my best friend, N/n, sending you away made me realize how much you’ve impacted me and Scorpius’ life. My life was boring, and miserable, but you came in, and you pieced me back together and fixed my broken heart. Astoria would’ve want me to be happy, and I’m happy with you.”

“Wow.” Draco chuckles at her one word. “That was one of the most beautiful declarations of love I've ever heard.” She threw her arms around him, and he quickly returns the gesture. They both knew what the other wanted.

Draco and Y/n pulled away from each other a little, but only to lock lips. Y/n’s hands were placed on his waist, while Draco’s pale hands were on her face.

Kissing each other was like hearing an entire symphony, adrenaline rising, and making them want more affection from each other. Draco once felt like he would never be happy again, but now he's the happiest he's been in over a year.

She pulls away and smirks, “I’ll get your ice cream now. I’ll see you once my shift is over.”

[1994sunflower]

Hi lovely 💕 I absolutely love your heaven to you series I was wondering if you could write something where you and Mikey and going at it and idk maybe ash or cal walk in on you and Mickey doesn’t stop so there just standing there watching him raw you idk maybe you can make it better than I said lol xx

merry christmas eve everyone! i wanted to post this early today so you would have plenty of time to read it without it interfering with your holiday plans. i hope you all love this as much as i loved making it & consider this my present from me to you.

in which ashton walks in on you

In hindsight, maybe sending Michael those dirty pictures wasn’t the best idea. Especially riling him up when he was in class when you knew he already didn’t pay attention. But, no matter how happy you were that he did what you asked and went anyway, you never really considered just how frustrating it was to be alone when all your classes had already finished.

Especially how frustrating it was when you were alone and horny. You couldn’t even waste the time by studying because your mind would always stray to him, his intimidating size, his cold eyes, his mocking smirk, his cock, the way he would pound you so roughly and perfectly that had you seeing stars and hugging onto him just right. You needed that right then. You wanted to be under him, letting him do whatever he wanted. You wanted him to satisfy you. 

God, what had he done to you?

You weren’t exactly sure what got you so tense but all you knew was that you were aching for him. Really though, you blamed how long it had been. School had been so hectic and both of you had so been busy that you haven’t had sex in weeks. Which was honestly a feat for both of you, considering how often you went at it. It wasn’t for the lack of Michael trying either but you were always quick to shut him down and focus on studying, making him do the same. Now though, you were the one that was insatiable. 

Even without him there, as you posed in those unquestionably suggestive poses (one on your knees, the other on all fours - ass sticking out behind you, the last with your legs spread), you could practically feel your panties sticking to your wetness. 

You needed him. 

And after sending them, you had giggled in his empty home. You’d been there since that morning before he left for class and you were excited just how much easier it would be for him to get straight to you after class. However, that excitement turned to eagerness when his reply came through. Always a man of few words, his message still rang loud and clear if the butterflies in your stomach were anything to go by.

mikey

i’m gonna fucking stuff you full when i get home

It was exactly what you wanted. You whimpered to yourself as you read and re-read his filthy words. You ground your pulsing clothed pussy against his bed, hating that you barely felt anything at all if the feeling didn’t come from him. You couldn’t even get yourself off without feeling your need for him grow even larger.

-

You were in the kitchen when you heard the key rattle of the doorknob. It was mischief that kept you in your place instead of going to meet him like you wanted to, like you’d been anticipating all hour.  

So when the cup of water in your hands was suddenly snatched away roughly, you couldn’t help the naughty smile at the expected reaction you brought out in him, even if you were turned away from him and couldn’t see his exact expression. But still, you whined as if in objection and lifted yourself on your tip-toes, reaching up to get your drink back.  

And you were finally face to face with Michael. A very frustrated Michael if his blown out pupils and tense jaw was anything to go by. But it wasn’t so surprising to you that his expression only served to have you aching more for him. 

He held your cup above both of you, his height allowing it to be out of your grasp even on your tip toes, even when you tried to jump a bit for it back. And if he hadn’t known better, maybe Michael would have mistaken your whimper for one of disappointment. But he knew better. He knew your all of your filthy, horny sounds especially when you were starkly reminded just how small you were compared to him, just how much power he held over you because of that.

So he didn’t hesitate to wrap his rough hands around your neck, effectively stopping all of your movements. And his frustration seemed to multiple tenfold at your widening eyes. Like a shocked little girl. 

“When did you turn into such a whore?” There was that cold, mocking smirk you begging to see. 

Neither of you missed the way you rubbed your thighs together at his words. “I’m sorry daddy. Just want your cock.” You never could keep up the facade of being a brat for long. Not when you knew being a good submissive girl would have him giving you what you wanted quicker. 

His eyes trialed down to your lips sensually before he leaned down and gave you a bruising kiss. One that had you quickly forgetting about your cup of water and instead had you all but leaning completely into him, savoring the feeling of his lips on yours and his wandering tongue. Leaning as high as you could on your tiptoes to meet his lips, your hands were traveling his chest and torso, trying to feel as much of his as you could. You felt him pick you up easily. 

It’d been too long and he had been needy as well, but was holding it in to give you time to do your work but it seemed you had finally caved and were just as tense as he was with the need to get off. He had made sure a long time ago that you wouldn’t ever be able to get off without him, he was the only one your body would respond to as he had trained it to do, the only one that could give you release. 

Thrill was the only thing that filled you when you felt your back hit wood, maybe that’s why you didn’t care that it was the kitchen table you were over. As you stared at Michael hovering above you, you couldn’t get yourself to chastise him as you normally would have; you were normally so respectful of shared living spaces, especially ones everyone would eat on later on. But as Michael’s expert hands undid your bra to leave you bare before him, all you could be was excited for what was to come and thankful that Michael was just as weak as you to give you what you wanted without delay.

“Never gonna listen to you and go to class again.” He muttered as his roughly spread your legs. You weren’t sure if he was mad at your earlier stunt or just too turned on to be gentler, but you didn’t mind. “I could have fucking opened those pictures in front of others, or is that what you wanted? Wanted those motherfuckers to see something that’s mine? See what a useless slut you are without me? You would’ve been the cause of their fucking funeral.” Definitely still mad. 

He pulled you hair roughly, exposing your throat as you leaned back and stared into his eyes. But nothing could hide the horniness swirling in his eyes, or the poke of his hard cock against his jeans on your inner thigh. You tried to wiggle your hips to ground against his cock but were met with only air, causing a wanting whimper to leave your lips. Michael spread your legs even further, dealing with his own clothes in the process. He could pretend all he liked but his quickness to get inside you spoke for itself. 

“Do you know how hard I was in the middle of class? After all the times you told me to go to class, you can’t even let me focus on learning. What a bad influence you turned out to be, little one.” His voice was taunting but you could only focus on getting him inside you faster. All the feelings of desire you had when alone in his room, that drove you to send those pictures in the first place, had come back tenfold.

Your breath hitched and you clenched around nothing, his previous swiftness had turned into a torturous stalling and you were sure he was doing it on purpose. But as if the dirty visuals you had sent directly to his phone were what was driving him, he finally took a hold of your hips and entered you. You were so wet you didn’t even need any foreplay. You were shaking with excitement. This was so much better than what you had tried home alone without him.

“Is this what you wanted?” He asked, his hand moving to your neck deliciously. His words were spit out sarcastically as your eyes rolled at the fast thrusts that had your body moving from the momentum. Your tits were moving with the rhythm of his thrusts and it was easy to see his eyes drawn to them. The table under you creaked with Michael’s strength.

But you couldn’t even answer him, your mind was jumbled in the bliss of finally getting what you wanted. His tight grip around your neck and rough thrusts was just a bonus. But the feeling of him against your tight walls, the sound of skin on skin sounding throughout the house had you in a haze. Only moans filtered out of your lips.

Michael’s hips moved skillfully as he stood between your completely spread legs, leaving you totally exposed for him. You were turned slightly to the side as he drilled into you, his hair falling in front of his eyes as he watched you carefully with hard eyes. Small grunts left him. He sucked in a breath. “That’s good, little one. Shit your cunt’s dripping, I’m going to wreck you.”

Maybe he was just as equally in a haze as you were. The need you had planted in him had driven him wilder than he let you believe. Maybe that’s why, in that vulnerable position he had you in, when you opened your eyes slightly you were the first to notice Ashton at the end of the hallway that led from the front door. His eyes were wide, keys still in hand and his mouth was drawn open. 

You couldn’t be sure how long he had been standing there. Only that he hadn’t said a word to stop you or announce his presence. It was his shock that prevented him from speaking, surely. 

For all the years you and Michael had been together, you were so cautious to never be caught, especially by Ashton who you respected enough to never purposely want to put in this position. This embarrassing position. Suddenly you were acutely aware of just exactly what Ashton was seeing. You were completely bare before him, only covered by the parts that Michael’s own body hid from view and maybe his large frame would be swallowing your small one more effectively if he had been leaning over you more but he wasn’t. Your face was washed in pleasure as your boyfriend, his best friend, drilled into you relentlessly. The way Michael had your legs spread guaranteed him a good view. You couldn’t even stop your moans in time so he was seeing and hearing every last detail. You’d never felt so exposed.

There was a battle within Ashton. It had started since the moment he walked in and heard you, then seen you two. His first thought was to announce his presence and tell you to find a room, or maybe to leave himself. But he couldn’t even fully develop that thought before he took a good look at the scene and he had trouble opening his mouth at all. With all his racing thoughts, it was hard to pick one to know what he was feeling but the drying of his throat as he heard your melodious moans and as he saw the way Michael had you submitted to him, body made easy to fuck and as he saw the pleasure before him, he had a good idea of just exactly which emotion was winning. His body sure knew anyway. And that part of him didn’t want to stop this.

But you took it upon yourself to do what he couldn’t. “A-Ashton” 

You hadn’t meant to moan it out but with Michael’s thrusts never ceasing, it was hard to get anything out any other way.

It was a token of how lost in you Michael was, how focused on your pleasure and the feelings he hadn’t been able to have in weeks, that he hadn’t even noticed Ashton, his presence or your notice of his presence. So hearing his best friend’s name, or any other man’s name, coming from your mouth in a moment as intimate and sexual as this was disorienting. And infuriating as he felt a lick of jealousy and possessiveness creep into him. 

His eyebrows furrowed as he tightened his already steely grip on your throat. “What the fuck did you just call me?” His thrusts never lightened and he heard you scream slightly, back arching, as he made sure to reach a crevice he knew would have you seeing stars. He didn’t know what you were playing at, whether you were trying to be a brat again to get him to go rougher but he quickly decided just how much he hated hearing you moan another man’s name while under him. Not when this was something only he had the right to do, the only one who had ever and will ever be with you in this way.

“N-no, no Mikey, Ashton h-he’s….” You trailed off but one of your hands reached to cover his that was on your neck and the other extended to point beside him. 

You watched him finally look over to where Ashton stood. You were biting your lip to prevent more sounds from escaping you as you saw him and Ashton finally make eye contact. You noticed when Michael leaned forward slightly, covering you up much more from Ashton’s gaze. And then you realized with horror that he hadn’t stopped thrusting in and out of you and didn’t seem like he was going to anytime soon. 

Michael hips didn’t even falter when he saw his best friend watching him with wide eyes, a blush now adorning his cheeks in embarrassment and in reaction to the sinful sounds coming out of you. Try as you might, moans and whines still left your mouth for Ashton to hear, powerless but to respond to Michael’s stimulations.

Maybe if it was anyone else, Michael would have covered you up completely, preventing any man from being able to see your body, something only Michael should have access to. Maybe if it was anyone else other than his best friend he would completely eclipsed your small body with his large one, possessively. But it wasn’t anyone else, it was Ashton, whom he trusted so much. So he made no move other than to hide you just a bit more, trust or not, he wasn’t going to allow Ashton to be able to see all you. He didn’t deserve it, not just yet.

He continued thrusting into you, more deeply than before. The sound of skin slapping still echoed throughout the house. Michael’s stoic gaze didn’t leave Ashton’s and his tone when he spoke never wavered, it almost sounded like he was having a normal conversation. “Are you going to get out or just stay and watch?” He saw your mouth drop in surprise, eyes wide and embarrassment filling into your eyes.

Ashton didn’t respond, wasn’t sure if he physically could even if he tried. But Michael didn’t wait for it either, after a few seconds of silence and of him not moving to leave, Michael’s gaze left his, almost disinterested, and returned to your whimpering figure. 

You couldn’t believe what Michael was doing, what you were letting him do. If there was ever a time that embodies just how much he was corrupting you, this would be it. This situation that you would’ve never otherwise been in without him. And what was worse was how much you liked it, you couldn’t deny the heat spreading through your body, how much wetter you were getting, the way you clamped down on Michael as the situation really set in. Your body was powerless but to respond to his rough thrusts still ravaging your body, how full you felt by him. It was hot to know Ashton was seeing just how good Michael was making you feel and was experiencing Michael’s dominance. Your eyes slipped down before you could stop yourself and you saw the bulge in Ashton’s pants. He was liking it just as much.

Maybe that’s what took away your embarrassment, at least hid it for the moment being. Or maybe it was Michael slapping your cheek. “Look at me.” His voice was just as dominating as it usually was and your whine was just as needy as it usually was. Your hips began moving of their own accord, desperate to meet his thrusts. You were forgoing any hint of shyness at your desperation being seen by someone else. You were too far gone, all you cared about was feeling Michael’s thrusts and getting to the release you had been needing for so long.

You heard Michael’s mocking chuckle. “Guess someone will see how much of a submissive whore you are, after all.” It felt as if your heart skipped a beat at his words.

Ashton was seemingly mesmerized. He hadn’t meant for his answer to be to stay and watch but he didn’t think he could move to leave, even if he wanted to. The only time when he felt as if he snapped out of it was when he saw Michael slap you. He always knew Michael was rough in bed, it was hard not to imagine when he overheard him so many times through the paper thin walls. But to see you welcome such degrading and rough treatment almost wantonly was an image that seemed to cause his already hard dick, strain even more against his pants. Especially when he had only ever seen you as a shy, quiet girl. This was a new side of you he had never expected would have even existed. 

Suddenly he understood why Michael was with you. It shouldn’t have made sense. You were too different. You were too proper and sweet, much too much to ever be a part of something like this, and Michael was too violent and angry. Just watching Michael’s heavily tattooed torso and chest come into contact with your lower body with every thrust, you resembled a girl getting taken by the delinquent of whatever story you were a part of, one that should’ve never had you in that way, one that you should’ve never even looked twice at. Not for the first time, Ashton wondered how Michael had gotten someone like you. But as he watched you submit so easily to Michael, as he saw you letting Michael take you raw, the way your wetness was dripping around your inner thighs, his hand around your throat, his tattoos clashing almost violently against your completely bare skin, heard you crying out in pleasure, he knew that no matter how, Michael had ruined you, tainted you and made you to be perfect for him, the perfect slut he could fuck however he wanted because you wanted it just as much. Your body was his for the taking. Your sweetness made you the perfect fit for him. And he made sure you would never be content with anyone else ever again. 

Ashton always wondered just how you two worked, with you being so tiny compared to Michael but now, he couldn’t help but watch just how your small body was taking him in. Though it couldn’t have been entirely with ease, he could tell with the roughness of Michael’s grip and thrusts, as if fighting against your walls to be able to bottom out inside you. He could see the way Michael fit tightly inside of your tiny cunt, the way you looked almost stuffed with his size each time he bottomed out in you. You looked so small under him, you almost looked like a doll. And somehow, knowing Michael was stretching you open made everything so much hotter. 

And maybe he would’ve been able to hold out, just content with watching the tangle of moaning bodies in front of him and hearing the chorus of your moans and skin slapping, but then he heard you whimper out “Daddy, don’t stop.” and he had to physically hold back a groan, his hand coming up to palm himself above his jeans. Your voice was so filled with hazy pleasure that he didn’t know how Michael didn’t cum right then and there. It seemed as if Michael was fucking away your care about being watched, the pleasure was too high. He was rendering you dumb, unable to hold a thought still in your mind.

Michael made it clear he had no care about an audience; nothing could take his attention from you in these moments and he didn’t mind showing off just exactly what he did to you - what only he has ever done to you. Which is why he had no qualms about making you moan loader.

Grabbing a hold of your hair, he pulled you up off of the table and to your feet, regretfully pulling out of you. You didn’t even have the time to whine in disappointment before you were being practically flung onto the couch, landing with your knees bent on the seats and your hands and face over the backing of it, ass facing Michael’s approaching figure. 

You couldn’t help but notice, with a blush, how much closer it was to Ashton. Part of you wondered if it was done on purpose, to rile up Ashton all the more, give him more of a show or if it was just to get you to a more comfortable place like Michael would’ve likely wanted you to think. It was easy to forget what was happening before, to not remember that you were currently being wrecked in front of your boyfriend’s best friend, letting him see everything, you naked and willing like a submissive slut. But now, it was impossible not to see and be aware of just how exactly you were being exposed for their pleasure when you were directly across from him and it was wrong to be aware of how much your pussy heated up with want and how you clenched around nothing while Michael took his place behind you. His heavily tattooed upper body just helped him look even more daunting behind you at his full height, towering over your cute figure easily and vastly. 

He took a hold of your hips before quickly entering you again, easy as if it was his rightful place. But he stopped his own movements once he was buried in you to the hilt. He groaned out under his breath when your hips circled, crying out for more. “Good girl.” He muttered before he began hammering into you with a speed you had been dreaming of. After weeks of nothing, this felt so so good. And despite the fact it looked as if Michael could have been ripping you apart with the size difference, you were taking it so well. You were so little, if Michael pulled you up against his chest, even at the elevated position you were in then, you’d barely reach his chin. And he knew the reason Michael wasn’t doing just that was because no matter how much he trusted Ashton, he wouldn’t let anyone experience you entirely, he’d never completely expose you like that to anyone else.

Your eyes closed almost immediately at the sensation, your head thrown back allowed Michael to take a hold of your hair to keep you still. He pulled just enough for it to hurt and your mouth dropped open, the bruises on your neck from Michael’s hands visible. The hungry screams that escaped you from his vigorous thrusts didn’t embarrass you, you had given up trying to silence or lower your sounds for Ashton’s sake. But your screams of ecstasy still reverberated through the house. They were breathy and full of desire, feeling your body move to match Michael’s. You couldn’t think straight enough to formulate words.

But then Michael pulled harshly on your hair again, “Open your eyes.” And when you did and met Ashton’s gaze directly, you felt yourself blush, at least having the decency to feel a little embarrassed at your weakness in front of him. And by his blush and almost pained expression at his own desires arising, you couldn’t tell for which of you Michael’s orders were more degrading for. “Tell him how much you love getting fucked by me.” 

You sucked in a breath. There you were, gazing at Ashton eye to eye as your body moved from the thrusts racking your person as your grunting boyfriend was behind you, fucking you without mercy. Not caring that he was doing all of this in front of his friend. In fact he didn’t look the least bit embarrassed or uncertain. He never had issues doing things publicly or where you could get caught and even in this extreme he looked unbothered, as if this was just any other time you had sex. He didn’t care about being watched, especially watched making you feel good. Because he never cared about other people or their opinions, even in moments like these. You were the one and only exception in his life so his only focus was your pleasure and experiencing you as he saw fit. And the possessive part of him wanted to make it clear to everyone that it was him that was doing this to you, fucking and destroying you so well. That he was the only one that knows and will ever know your body, he had claimed it and you making it so you were conditioned to always respond to him and only him; and you were powerless to stop it. He wanted them to see how submissive you were for him because you were his. 

Your hands clenched into tiny fists on top of the couch, your mouth open as you continued to whimper and moan, face furrowing every now and then as Michael’s thick cock reached a particularly deep part inside of you. You couldn’t even hide your face as Michael held it in the air by your hair to keep your eyes on Ashton. You couldn’t help but see Ashton gasp at Michael’s request as well, his hand in his pants moving faster than before.

It was almost too much, too dirty. But when Michael moved to be further on top of you, his chest leaning directly on your back so he could whisper in your ear. “You’re just my fucking cocksleeve that I can use whenever I want.” 

Maybe it was his words or maybe it was the way the new angle made him, with every slowing thrust, hit your g-spot every time. You could feel him against your tight walls, fitting so perfectly in you. But your face scrunched up in pleasure, a particularly loud moan leaving you, your eyes never tearing from Ashton right in front of you. 

He saw everything, every little reaction you had as your boyfriend fucked your small body so good. He could only see your face and torso as Michael large body completely eclipsed yours. Your size difference was never more obvious to Ashton as it felt as if Michael would break you in an instant with how weak and little you were to the point where he completely overtook you. Just a little more and he wouldn’t even be able to see you over Michael’s tattooed back. That knowledge was very clear in your mind as well and you loved it. Especially to know that Ashton was a witness to how you were completely dominated in all senses and protected by your big boyfriend. All you had were thoughts of pleasing and obeying Michael. 

“I-I love it when he f-fucks me.” You told Ashton, watching how his eyes widened, dark with lust and his hand moving faster. Michael continued thrusting into you, not making his request of you speaking easy, spreading your ass as he did which made you gasp out whenever he bottomed out inside of you sharply. You writhed forward at his thrusts and feeling but he kept you in place, preventing you from moving forward and away, keeping you at the perfect angle where he could move as deeply and as quickly as he wanted in you, using you for his pleasure just as much as he was providing it. His thrusts were sharp and precise. Your head fell downwards at the pleasure of his hips, moaning, but never for long before he pulled you hair to have your head up in the air and eyes on Ashton yet again, back to the humiliating position of having to watch as Ashton was witness to your sinful and horny actions. You could feel your orgasm coming close and your toes curled at the feeling. This was what you wanted and had been craving for, what you’d teased Michael for in the first place. 

Ashton didn’t seem to mind your stutters, broken sentences or even your dirty words. Your voice was small and breathy mixed in with whines and gasps. You could’ve sworn you heard him groan out, muttering a small Fuck under his breath. But Michael didn’t seem as mad as he would be in any other situation where a guy was getting off to his girlfriend. Maybe because no matter what, he was the one that was currently drilling into your tiny pussy, leaving it a mess.

Your next words weren’t part of the script but you knew it would please your boyfriend. “He…he fucks me so good, I’m his…his dirty little fucktoy” Your mind was buzzing and your heart clanged against your chest. It was so degrading, even humiliating but still you couldn’t help but feel even closer to your release.

Michael’s hips stuttered at your words, caught off guard. “Shit.” Your words fulfilled his possessive appetite perfectly. Hearing you claim yourself as his in front of someone, with your voice completely filled with pleasure was hotter than he ever imagined. You knew just what he wanted, without him even having to tell you completely. Holding you closer as his continued thrusting in an out of you, grunting with each thrust. He was moving your body for you, moving your small size so easily up and down on his big dick - just like a toy. At times pulling out to the tip just to be able to impale you back down to hear your gasped out moan. You were clenching your already tight walls around him to hug his cock impossibly tight. He had lasted so much longer than he thought possible with you feeling this good. 

“Thats right, squeeze daddy’s cock just like that, little one.” Michael groaned out. He could feel himself being close, if he wasn’t before he definitely was after your words. The urge to cum inside you and claim your pussy, with his cum filling and dripping down you, had never been larger. But he wanted to see you spasm around him first, fully showcase just how good he was making you feel. “I’m going to stuff you with my cum in front of him. Gonna show him how my bitch lets me cum inside of her, breed her. This is my fucking cunt.” 

It was too much, the image he had planted in your head, the certainty he felt in claiming you no matter in front of who, especially when his tatted hand came around your body to find your clit. You screamed at the same time you came around him, eyes closed as you still faced Ashton. “Yes daddy cum inside me, please. F-fill me up.” You were whining like a bitch in heat. You sounded as delirious as you looked. You were almost drooling in desire for his cum. Your mind was gone.

But it wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t be expected to go weeks without your boyfriends cock, not when you were so spoiled and used to having him whenever either of you felt needy. It had been like a self inflicted punishment. But if sex like this was what you got afterwards, after teasing him then you had to do it more often. 

That was all it took for Ashton, seeing you fall apart completely and hearing your dirtiest words as of yet. He wished he could be more embarrassed about cumming from the sight of best friend’s girlfriend getting railed but he couldn’t bring himself to be as he watched you still getting milked.

“Fucking cum hungry slut” Michael cursed out loud when he felt you tremble beneath him. 

“Yesyesyes”He felt your cum around his cock and that was all it took for him to be releasing into you, holding on to your hips with a loud groan. He heard you whimper at the feeling of his cum filling you up to the brim. He wasn’t sure if it was just how long it had been since the last time he had had you like that or just the situation but he felt as he never came as hard before in his life. He’d never let himself be deprived of you for so long ever again. 

Even when he pulled out, some cum still splashed onto your thighs and back but you did nothing but breath out heavily and snuggle deeper into the couch, hiding your body from any wandering eyes, exhausted and still in disbelief. Michael really had corrupted you beyond your wildest imagination.  

Ashton was leaning on the wall behind him, breathing just as heavily as the two in front of him. He watched Michael, with his glistening body and labored breaths, take a hold of the first fabric he could find and clean off any excess on your body. It wasn’t lost on Ashton what it meant that you trusted Michael enough to let fuck you raw and cum inside you instead of using a condom, the intimacy of it all. Silently, Michael stared at you with soft eyes - so different from the hard and focused ones he had on while relentlessly driving into you. And if he hadn’t known the dynamic of your relationship before, it would have been very obvious to Ashton now, just how much Michael loved you. Even after he had degraded you so much just moments before. Michael wouldn’t ever care for anyone the same way he was currently tending to you, he never had and never will again. Even if he was infinitely more experienced with infinitely more people, this behavior from him was for you and only you. You were the only one he would ever love as much. His focus was entirely on you, ignoring the audience as he had been for the majority of the time. He didn’t care, his only care was ever on you. But even he couldn’t deny how hot the situation had been.

Michael didn’t say it but Ashton knew, even if it was just an accident and even if it had been used to embarrass you and dominate you even further, that he was lucky to ever be allowed to see you like he had just done. Michael likely wouldn’t have let anyone else so close, maybe just enough to see him wrecking you and enough to hear you but never so intimately and exposed as Ashton had witnessed. He was too jealous for that. But he trusted Ashton and knew you did too. 

So why would he have to stop his moment with you, one he had been needy for for weeks when he didn’t have to or want to. He didn’t care about anyone or anyone’s feelings or thoughts, other than you. Nothing would keep him away from you in that moment, especially after being teased as he had been. And Ashton was thankful to have walked in on such a hot scene. A front row seat to his own personal porn video.

Your face was heating up as you peaked out from the couch. Embarrassment and timidness was clear as you chewed on your lower lip. It was almost comical to see you like that now after the side of you that you had just let out. But you had never been in that position before, only having heard it from the very dirtiest talk your boyfriend had mentioned before in bed. But never did you think it would really happen. Ashton had seen you begging to get fucked and bred, seen your naked body, heard all of your dirtiest sounds and words and seen the way you submitted to your boyfriend as he dominated over you as he always did. What would he think of you? 

But you only saw the way his pants were unzipped and unbuttoned, the disheveled look he watched you with. And you didn’t think you saw a hint of judgement in his gaze, just horniness and shock. 

It was silent, neither of you knowing what to say and Michael not caring enough to break the silence.

But eventually Ashton couldn’t take it and he tried to make his voice was filled with humor as it usually was. “Dude….we-we eat on that table.” He stuttered, it was hard not to after what he had just seen. His mouth was dry and he licked his lips to wet them.

Michael threw his jacket over your small body, its size enough to cover your entire figure. But then he looked directly at Ashton, not a hint of the embarrassment you were experiencing. He didn’t feel the need, he had given Ashton a choice. And he had gotten to please you and get to finally feel you around him again which were the only things he really cared about in the world; you and making you feel good. Fuck everyone else.

In fact, he felt a swell of pride at having claimed you so thoroughly, shown just how well he had tainted you to be his. He felt even better that he could finally fuck you like he had been wanting without being interrupted or having to stop because of the interruption; he didn’t have to be angry or protective over you because Ashton was too mesmerized by you and what happened to make you feel even shyer. 

“I didn’t hear you complaining.”

[idanit]

possibly underappreciated Good Omens fics I enjoyed once upon a time

Indirectly inspired by a video series about fanfiction I watched, I decided to pull together a list of Good Omens fics I have bookmarked as stories I enjoyed, but which have less than 250-300 kudos at the time I’m writing this. No particular order. They’re accompanied by short excerpts from my private fic reading notes (not originally intended to be read by anyone but me, mind), sometimes slightly edited for clarity—and, sometimes, the comments I left on the fics.

This list sat in my drafts for a long time and the recent S2 announcement reminded me of it. I’d love it if it inspired you to do something similar! Spread the love.

And mind the tags, please.

△ = general and teen ▲ = mature and explicit 

thermodynamic equilibrium ▲ 7K the author has such an ear for dialogue and is unapologetic about what they want to write the characters like. They think of the characters as a mix of TV and book canon, but they feel like a homemade blend to me. (...) It’s very funny.

such dear follies ▲ 6K I can really picture this Aziraphale—Crowley as well, but her especially. She’s rather distinct. (...) Nice writing.

The Words Were With - △ 1.2K post-Blitz vignette, Aziraphale realizes what he feels and wonders if they're human enough for this. I liked it, and I liked the tag "transhumanism, but in reverse?", too—what an interesting idea. I'd say it's a vignette in a dire need of a follow-up, but, well, there's the show. The show is the follow-up. It fits very nicely within the canon and I totally believe it could have happened, like a deleted scene.

Gossip and Good Counsel △ 19K/? I love their companionship and how they're set up to be opposites by the management even though they get on pretty well. It feels very in keeping with the canon, but I feel like the fact that it's an F/F set in this particular time period adds a meaningful layer to the situation. It's women supporting each other in the world of men, working with the personas that are created for them, but, privately, being normal, well-rounded people. (...) and of course your writing is always a pleasure to read. (...) SDHDGDHDHDG Maisie is truly an Aziraphale.

Crowley Went Down to Georgia (he was looking for a soul to steal) △ 6K This was nice. Based on a song I didn’t know. Crowley goes to a funeral in the USA, one of a fiddler he knew and lost a bet to once. (...) The fic has not one but two songs composed for it and embedded inside it and that makes it even better. I really enjoyed the experience.

The Thing With Feathers △ 18K WARLOCK you'rE HORRIBLE AND I LOVE IT I would read an entire novel-length fic just of Crowley fighting his battles with Warlock. Written like this? It would be a blast. (...) The OCs are believably characterized and well-loved by the story. (...) Everyone seems to need a friend in this house. (...) This was so fun, and at the same time, their mission has weight here (...) We wonder about what the future holds even though we know it.

Here Quiet Find △ 11K This fic aimed for my head and the aim was sure precise. It was a story of Crowley sensing Aziraphale's distress and finding him in a self-quarantined English village in the seventeenth century, tired and anxious. It's hurt/comfort, so there was washing and bedsharing and I had to love it, so I did.

outside of time △ 2K Post-Almostgeddon, (...) nicely-written, short, but strung with a soft kind of tension and unspoken words. There's no drama, just "can we really", and "do you really" of sudden freedom. They fall into being inseparable. Book canon, which I like for this story (sitting on a tarmac). I liked the footnotes. There's a mention of Eliot. All in all, very much yes.

She'asani Yisrael △ 2K It’s Crowley going through a two-hour service and drinking blessed wine. He also keeps an eye on a boy he was asked to. It’s 1946. It was pretty good, so far the best Jewish GO fic, I think, from the ones I’ve read.

To Guard The Eastern Gate △ 11K  I loved it. You really made Sodom feel lived-in; the description of Keret, Hurriya and Yassib's house and relationship were great. I got attached to both them and the city (...) Aziraphale and Crawley’s interactions were generally very entertaining. I laughed (...) Your rendering of their voices just lands so well (...) But then oh, the entire ending (...) hurt, hurt a lot, and your descriptions are so vivid.

If you’ve been waiting (for falling in love) △ 14K AAAAA a good ending line. The whole paragraph, in fact. I love a good smattering of philosophy in my fics, and this was really nice. I can get behind Thomas Aequinus's and Crowley's view on eternity. It's (...) a pretty simple fic (...) - the courage to express yourself and take a risk is awarded with winning what was at stake by the virtue of reciprocity - but the way it was intertwined with a study of how they would experience a forever was done well. 

Holy unnecessary ▲ 2.2K It's well-written. (...) this is my type of sexual humour if I have any. So subtle. Blink and you'll miss it. Lovely.

The Parting Glass △ 17K Through the ages, they're dancing around their relationship until after the Armageddoff. (...) Wow, this was really, really nice. Very simple in its concept and nothing I haven't read before, but very well-executed. (...) AAAAH I LOVED the first chapter. I always like abbeys as settings, that's a given, but the banter, the good writing, the moral ambiguity!

Name The Sky △ 33K This Crowley is different, but very intriguing. Without his sarcastic talk, and much more animalistic. (...) I love how expressive Crowley is. (...) This fic has a very nice balance of drama and levity. I don't love Crowley-before-the-Fall stories very much, but with this execution I can read about it. (...) Okay I've read Crowley offering fruits, and even Aziraphale biting fruits, but the two of them sharing the apple? Outstanding. Ingenious. What a take.

A Flame in Your Heart △ 5K post-Blitz (why are so many dance fics post-Blitz?), they go to the bookshop and have an actually believable conversation. Then they dance the gavotte. It was really nice! Believable writing, emotions, the dancing! (...) Of course it's too early for them, (...) but the author's note? yeah.

Put down the apple, Adam, and come away with me ▲ 32K At this point it's just reading original stories with characters with names and some personality traits that I recognize. (...) I really enjoy this, the careful dance, the opposition between their views. (...) This is well-written, wow. (...) it's not an easy read (...) this story feels very believably 50s, but also reaches out to the present time. 

Liebestraum ▲ 10K/? It really is like music. I'm enjoying the writing a lot. (...) oh my actual god. This, this? Wow, uh. This came for my throat. (...) THE MUSICAL COMPOSITION, THE MOTIF RETURNING, THE AUTHOR KNOWS WHERE IT'S AT (...) Excellent. This hits the right beats so precisely, (...) and with feeling, too.

Down Comforter △ 2.4K and they lay down in angeldown, a soft rug ‘neath their heads– alright. Well, Crowley lies under Aziraphale's wing on a Persian rug after the Apocalypse, and they talk (...). It was sweet.

The Corsair of Carcosa △ 5K Crowley wakes up from a nap, visits Aziraphale for some drinking, and they read The King in Yellow that he happens to own. Good writing, so I'm bought. Aziraphale mentions Beardsley, so I'm bought twice over. My god, a discussion of etheral/occult madness? Caused by some wrong/true reading? Yes.

Very Good, Omens! △ 6K It's rather well-written, well-pastiched. People don't do that too often, nowadays - try to write in the style of a particular writer. (...) I love wordplay like this.

Reviving Robin Hood: The Complicated Process of Crème Brûlée △ 30K it's well-written (...), has a rhythm to it, and quiet humour. (...) Finally some nice, good, light writing. The attention to detail! (...) I'm still reading most of it aloud, the rhythm of it compels me to. (...) okay this does sound like Pratchett&Gaiman, the Good Omens itself (...) The fic is meandering, hilarious, sensitive in all the right places, and overall lovely.

my dear acquaintance △ 1K Oh. Oh. Yes, yes! Aziraphale in Russia, Russia I've never been in, but I can feel the snow and the evening of. Very real, and the bar, too. Attention to detail - vodka flavoured with dill, what on earth? Yes. He would totally have a distinct taste in operas and he would totally complain about a subpar one. I'm glad Tchaikovsky's there.

there is a crack in everything △ 1.8K This was good! Ah. Inspired by a comment (...), I went looking for Mr. Harrison and Mr. Cortese fics—really, what a big brain moment someone had and why have I never thought to look for them? This is Crowley getting suddenly anxious and Aziraphale going out of his way, through all his layers of not-thinking and denial, to console him. I also really liked how the Arrangement is a carefully unacknowledged partnership-marriage.

Scales And Gold And Wings And Scars △ 6K  No conflict, no plot, one tiny arc like a ripple on the surface of water on a calm sunny day - of Aziraphale discovering Crowley’s scars. It's the South Downs and it's early summer. They bask and swim in a spring. Non-sexual nudity, love in the air like a scent. Nice.

Nineteen Footnotes In Search Of A Story △ 0.4K This is a Good Omens story told only through footnotes. Your mind can fill in the gaps. Fascinating (...). Also, it’s an experiment so apt for this particular fandom.

Hell on Earth △ 6.5K Oh, I loved it! How could I not love it: it's Beelzebub-centric, it's historical, it has classical painting, and even a hilarious scene with a cuneiform phrase, as if I didn't enjoy this story enough already. There are so few Beelzebub fics out there and I find searching for them very difficult (I accept recs if anyone has any), and it's such a shame, so this was really like a gift to the fandom. I absolutely adore the way you portrayed them, small, frightening, powerful, and confident. Also, it was super fun to see how different Crowley seems when we're not in his POV or in a story about him and Aziraphale. (...)

Go Up to Ramoth-Gilead and Triumph △ 24K Daegaer is... pure class. (...) hdhdhdh what pfttt why you so funny (...) I love this Crowley. (...) This got unexpectedly intense. (...) I love the little nods to the fact that Israelites, especially the poorer ones, still believe in other gods. I also really like that they sleep on roofs. It's just the kind of detail that grounds the story and shows that the author is, in fact, a historian. 

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Let's Call It Funny

Prompt: Hi! If you know about those gen z peter parker posts, could your write something based on that? With Steve Getting It (tm) because fatalistic nihilism in humor tended to show up during the world wars and we’re seeing a reflection of that now? Sorry- I just think it’d make great options for steve and peter bonding, and dad!tony but actual emotions (gasp!) You can totally ignore this if you want!

Don't ever apologize for giving me such a great ask

Read on Ao3 Part 2

Warnings: uhhh gen z humor

Pairings: none! all found family in this bitch

Word Count: 2529

Here’s the thing about humor. It’s not necessarily that one generation is any funnier than another, it’s just that high school kids are perpetually the funniest people alive. Something about being in a pressure cooker of an environment with a bunch of other people whose bodies are changing in new unpredictable ways whilst having very little say in how their lives go creates humor. Gasp of shock, right?

So basically what Peter’s trying to say is that he’s fucking hilarious.

Come on, not only does he have the default high schooler stuff, he’s also gay, which gives him an instant bonus. He’s trans, which opens up a whole new subset of humor for him to explore. He’s neurodivergent as fuck, and we all know that makes people funny as hell. And if that weren’t enough, he’s severely traumatized and he’s Spider-Man.

Peter Parker is funny as hell.

What is truly devastating—and really, it’s their loss—is that so few people seem to appreciate it.

Ned gets it. Ned’s not someone Peter would expect to not get it, just because hey, it’s Ned. They’ve met each other in the hallways and been like ‘hey! You’re still alive! Congrats on having a body!’ Only for the other one to go ‘hey! You’re alive too! I wish I had an intangible form!’

Because bodies are stupid and evolution really fucked us over but at least we’re not horses.

A solid 50% of their interactions are just quoting John Mulaney and Bo Burnham bits back and forth at each other. Peter’s never gonna forget the day they both had detention and had to watch that stupid Cap PSA—it’s propaganda, you Nazi fuckwits—and something reminded them of the ‘horse loose in a hospital’ bit and they just did it. Full out. Stood up and did the actions and everything. The rest of the room was either trying to do it with them—and failing, because they didn’t have nearly enough practice—or looking so confused. The security guard—Paul, he’s great—just looked at them blearily after they finished and went:

“I mean, you kids are right, but you’re not supposed to talk in detention.”

Well, excuse them for trying to make it more entertaining for everyone.

MJ gets it. If Peter’s being honest, he learned most of his humor from her. She is the master and it is an honor to study in her wake. He’s definitely hijacked the asking whether or not anything’s actually meaningful existentialism jokes and they’ve wormed their way into his day-to-day repertoire.

“Why are you late, Mr. Parker?”

“Time is a social construct, Mrs. B, none of us are ever late or early except in the subjective spacetime paths. The limits of our sensory perception make it so we can’t tell if anything is real, let alone whether or not they conform to some arbitrary definition of ‘time.’”

“…just sit down, Peter.”

See? It works.

Aunt May gets…worried.

Sure, they’ve actually talked about when Peter needs help and wants to reach out and when he’s just making jokes off the cuff because hey, humor’s a great coping mechanism or it’s just a joke and not that serious. Peter loves his Aunt May, so so so much, and the last thing he wants to do is really worry her. And she’s gotten pretty good at figuring out when he’s just joking and when he’s spiraling.

Sometimes, though…

“Peter,” Aunt May calls from the kitchen, “did you remember to stop by the store on your way home?”

Peter freezes halfway through the door.

“Peter?”

He swallows. “…no.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am too stressed and consumed by the swirling pit of blackness deep in my soul to remember my head is connected to my body, let alone remember to go to the store.”

Silence.

“…Aunt May?”

“Do you want to drop off your stuff and then go to the store?”

“…yeah, please.”

“Love you, Pete.”

“Love you!”

“Try to remember that you’ve got arms so you can pick stuff up.”

“Got it!”

See? It’s fine.

The Avengers don’t get it. Like, at all.

Natasha and Clint like, sorta get it? They make the same jokes all the time when they think Peter can’t hear them, which—come on, you guys are super spies, surely you know people are gonna hear you when they’re gonna hear you. Natasha will make a crack about something, Clint will laugh and shove her shoulder. It’s their dynamic, we get it. But when Peter does it…

“Hey, Baby Spider?”

Peter sticks his head up from the ceiling. “Yeah?”

“Where’re you crawling off to?”

“I’m gonna go hide in the garage.”

Natasha blinks up at him. “Why?”

“Because if I get crushed by the airlock doors then I won’t have to do my paper tomorrow.”

Silence. Natasha’s mask is too good for Peter to actually see what’s going on with her, let alone from this angle, but silence isn’t good.

“Nat—oof!”

Something blurs out of the vent nearby and tackles him down onto the couch.

“Clint!”

“Nope,” Clint mutters, wrapping Peter up in a hug as Natasha comes to join them. “You’re staying with us now, Pete.”

“Guys, I’m fine.”

“Peter,” Natasha says softly, “don’t joke about that, you’ll make us worry.”

“I don’t wanna do that,” Peter mumbles, “but it’s fine.”

“Coping mechanism, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s got too many brain cells to do that,” Clint says, ruffling Peter’s hair.

“Stark has a lot of brain cells, you see what good that does him?”

“Hmm. Guess you’re gonna have to stay awhile, Pete.”

There are worse fates. Definitely.

Thor just kind of gets confused by it. He acts like Peter isn’t going to be absolutely fine because there’s no need to do anything like that. No, Peter, you don’t have to put the bleach in first into your cereal, there’s plenty of milk left over. No, Peter, you don’t have to throw yourself off the roof because your laptop is freezing, Stark has so many just lying around. No, Peter, you don’t have to pack a rucksack and run away to the Alps and live like a recluse, come here and get a hug.

Peter suspects Thor’s playing dumb on purpose. The man is smart as hell, there’s no way all of this is flying over his head. And honestly, it warms his heart a little bit when he sees Thor’s sincere, concerned look when he thinks Peter’s not looking.

Banner and Rhodey just kinda shake their heads and move on. They’re used to it. They live and work with some of the most dramatic fucking people in the goddamn universe, they’re used to a little bit of extra humor. Occasionally one of them will give him a look that says he’s pushing his luck, but that’s not often. Less often now ‘cause he knows what he can get away with. He’s also seen them hiding smiles behind their hands or poorly disguised coughs. They’re not as slick as they think they are.

Tony.

Tony is the fucking worst.

Peter can’t get away with so much as sighing too hard before Iron Dad™ is swooping in all soft words and concerned touches. Jesus. You’d think he’d get it, he uses humor as a coping mechanism too, goddamnit, why is he so worried about Peter?

Okay, fine, he knows why.

MJ’s over at the Tower, having another one of her ‘sketch people in crisis’ appointments with Natasha. Peter is coming off of a 32-hour caffeine rush and is violently wishing for death. Tony is in the kitchen doing…something.

“Hey, do you think bleach would make a good smoothie?”

Tony wheels around to see MJ pulling a glass out of the cupboard.

“Kid—“

“Sounds like a filling breakfast,” Peter groans, “can you make me one too?”

“…I’m legitimately concerned,” comes Tony’s mutter.

MJ ignores him. “Who’s the bitch on your forehead?”

Peter rubs absentmindedly at the massive knot on his head, courtesy of a wall that rudely decided to move at the last second while Peter was attempting to walk through a doorway. “He’s called DJ Braindeath and he’s my only friend in the world.”

“Peter—“

“Oh did you meet him at the furry convention?"

“Technically it’d be a buggie convention.”

“What the hell are you two talking about?”

“The pantry doesn’t have good coffee, I’m going to Starbucks.” MJ grabs her bag. “You want anything?”

“A will to live?”

“Peter, what the fuck—“

“Oof, I’ve only got like…20 bucks.”

Peter lets his head drop back to the counter. “Then just leave me here to die.”

“Can I have champagne at your funeral?”

“I’ll be dead, I won’t fucking care.”

“God, I wish that were me.”

Then MJ’s gone and Peter gets treated to a 20-minute conversation with a very concerned Tony Stark that he doesn’t remember most of because hey caffeine crashes aren’t fun.

He definitely does it on purpose sometimes just to wind Tony up. Like there’s this one incident with an interview he does as Spider-Man and he gets asked what he thinks about Tony Stark’s newest intern, Peter Parker.

“That boy’s an embarrassment, just…complete failure. Can’t speak without stuttering through every other word and self-esteem issues all over the place. Also looks like he got dressed in the dark.”

The reporter had awkwardly moved on to another question. The interview aired later that day while Peter was at the Tower. Tony sat next to him on the couch about halfway through.

“You look good, Pete.”

Peter had mumbled halfheartedly, only to hear the reporter ask the same question.

“See, that’s the problem with having a secret identity, you don’t…” Tony trailed off as he heard the answer.

Peter snorted as Spider-Man finished talking. “Say that to my face, you bitch, get a real job. At least I don’t look like someone vomited silly string all over my spandex.”

“Are you okay?”

See? Fun.

The only one he’s made a conscious effort to not be this funny around is Steve.

Because, okay, here’s the thing. Steve’s disappointed look has no effect on him anymore. He’s immune, motherfuckers, he’s had detention too many times for it to still work. Here’s the other thing: Steve doesn’t actually use that tone of voice that often. It’s this meticulously crafted image he plays up in interviews because it catches all the bad guys so off guard when Captain America is suddenly swearing a blue streak at them and telling them to go fuck themselves in, honestly, quite creative ways. The sincere Steve Rogers disappointment and concern still very much works. Also doesn’t help that Steve does caring so fucking well, like…who gave him the right to say a few things and hold Peter like he’s something precious and do the quick one-two punch of saying a super sincere compliment and following it up with ‘I love you.’ Who did that? It’s rude. Stop it.

And yeah, Steve’s the resident Mom at the Ready. It’s a risk to even sit on your bed looking sad ‘cause here he comes, wearing something snuggly and saying ‘hey’ in that stupid, stupid compassionate voice. So Peter knows he’s just gonna end up crying from too much soft if Steve actually gets concerned. Which won’t be fair because he’s gonna try and explain that he’s fine and it’s just his sense of humor while crying. Yeah, like that’s gonna be believable.

So he’s trying not to but damnit it’s hard.

Then he walks into the kitchen one day to see Steve struggling with the toaster.

It’s one of Tony’s new prototypes—which means that anyone struggling with it is so fair—and from the looks of it, it’s managed to not only burn the bread to a crisp, but also mangle the slices beyond recognizable shape.

Peter’s not paying that much attention. He’s on his phone, heading towards his spot in the corner with the beanbag chairs and definitely doesn’t recognize Steve as he goes.

He only plops down and hears someone declare, in a completely deadpan voice: “There is no point to existing at all.”

“Oh, mood.”

He doesn’t think much of it. He doesn’t even know who said that, that’s how hyper-focused he is right now. He hears the others come in and feels Clint plonk down next to him.

“Hey, Pete.”

“Sah, dude.”

“Just vibing. Did I do it right?”

“Yeah, man you’re going great.”

“You teach Thor ‘yeet’ yet?”

“We’re getting there.”

“Steve,” he hears Tony call from the kitchen, “what the fuck did you do?”

“Language.”

“Don’t fucking talk to me about language when you’re making toast that looks like a goddamn welder’s table, what is that?”

“Your prototype’s work, I imagine.”

“How did you even—“

Clint chuckles next to him as the two of them start fondly bickering. Peter’s too busy speedrunning the five stages of grief in his head.

Did���did Steve say the thing about there being no point to existence at all?

No…no way.

He must be imagining things.

Then, of course, there’s a chime on his phone.

Ned: Did u do the bio hw?

There was bio homework?

Ned: yeah, due at noon

“I now know why God abandoned this timeline and when will death come to take me?”

The room goes silent.

Shit.

“Peter,” Clint says, “it’s gonna be fine, you can do bio homework in your sleep—“

“Are you okay?” Ah, that’s Thor.

“Kid—“

And Nat, and Tony’s probably rushing over here as he speaks.

Then there’s another voice.

“We can only pray the reaper arrives early for his appointment with us, kid.”

Peter’s head snaps up.

Steve.

Steve fucking Rogers raises a coffee cup at him in salute and takes a sip. He makes a face.

“…that was definitely salt,” he mutters, before shrugging and downing the whole thing.

…what?

Peter’s still staring at him until he catches his gaze and winks.

Oh, fuck yes.

“Steven Grant Rogers,” Tony says, hands on his hips, “explain.”

Steve just gives him a look. “I grew up in the Great Depression, Tony, and I was in the army. You don’t think I have a fatalistic sense of humor?”

“Plus the fact that most of my generation is resorting to types of humor found when death and stress are so ever-present that you have to joke about it says something,” Peter adds, “doesn’t it?”

Steve raises his cup again. “See? He gets it.”

And just like that, the bond between Peter Parker and Steve Rogers was written, formed, and sealed in salt and existentialist depression.

“There’s two of you,” Tony mumbles, “oh my god, there’s two of you.”

“Oh, you just wait ’til Buck and Sam get back.”

Peter can’t fucking wait.

[frederickthegreat]

my thoughts on TUA season 2

(spoilers, obviously)

- opened with Klaus and Ben, my kings. Klaus’s hair looks so weird straightened while short 

- AWESOME opening soundtrack 

- seeing all their powers so controlled makes me wonder how they leveled up to that skill in the alternate timeline. like the only time we saw Klaus use the powers of other ghosts in the correct timeline was when two of them caught him falling out of the sky. however Diego did end up controlling bullets and Allison used her voice to technically kill one of the Swedes

- the homeless man screaming Allison’s name alongside Luther... funny shit

- big teddy bear Hazel

- Elliot was fucking awesome i think he was a great addition as a side character. rip tho :(

- honestly i don’t understand why Diego would WANT to save JFK. like it’s not that big of a deal. does he not understand what messing with the timeline can do??

- Lila... impeccable

- Sissy and Vanya... impeccable <3

- yeah and fuck u Carl

- ugh, Klaus’s beard. disgusting <3

- Ben and Klaus definitely act like they should be, given that they’ve been stuck with each other for over a decade. i’ve seen some people calling Klaus an asshole for not telling his siblings about Ben, which is completely understandable (cause he was an asshole), but I’m guessing it was because he was afraid? that sharing Ben with his siblings would mean that he would lose him to them, or his siblings would find him selfish, or they would ask something of him that he couldn’t give. if that makes sense

- that ghost bitch comment was funny tho 

- to the guy who called Klaus pretty boy at the bar: sir you don’t know what you’re getting into

- Raymond!! he’s such a sweetheart, i really liked him in the show. i’m really happy that Allison has found a bit of normalcy (as normal as the 1960s Civil Rights movement could be). it shows how passionate she is about what she believes in: even though she knows the movement is far from over, even back in 2019, she’s not gonna abandon it

- Allison staring at the moon every night: either thinking about Luther or how the moon blows them all up. maybe both

- of course Luther would be working for Jack Ruby

- awesome cinematography during the mental asylum escape 

- yeah it makes sense that the Handler would still be alive. she was a cool villain. although it would’ve been awesome to see how evil a fish could be

- Diego’s plan was pretty stupid. that’s my boy

- honestly they revealed how Klaus started a cult really well by having one of his followers find him at jail. Klaus, ever the musical aficionado, of course writes his scripture based off of pop songs

- Raymond and Klaus meeting!! that was cool to see how their paths connected

- Lila painting Elliot’s toenails green. ugh i love that crazy bitch

- i LOVE how they incorporated the umbrella man!! tbh i’ve always believed he was the one behind the assassination. Lee Harvey Oswald was framed 

- honestly a bit understandable that Luther was planning on killing Vanya? cause he had no idea who she is now, but them reuniting was actually really sweet. he’s grown up so much

- the Swedes and their cats.

- the Umbrella company building with the nuclear family mannequins... creepy, awesome shit

- baby pogo baby pogo baby pogo baby pogo

- shanked diego shanked diego shanked diego shanked diego

- did anyone else get vibes from Klaus’s episode opening that he was an escort to the old woman? like how he was being shown off at her arm or something and getting out of jail from a call from the governor. idk maybe the lady was just very taken with him, as anyone would be

- Elliot, our helpful king

- Allison and Klaus’s reunion was so sweet!! i’m so glad they got to interact so much more in this season 

- Ben getting Raymond out through a haunting... hilarious

- sweet intimate moment between Lila and Diego

- Ray meeting Luther was hilarious, but i do feel for the poor guy. i mean i’m not in love with my adoptive sister but still

- the sit-in was really well done and beautiful while terrible. the ‘riot’ that ensued was very appropriate for today’s setting 

- D-Dave

- honestly i was scared that Klaus was gonna be overly attracted to him or whatever, which would be weird cause he’s years younger than Klaus, but honestly, at the core he just wanted to save Dave’s life. even if it means never meeting him in a different timeline. he truly loved Dave. and that ptsd flashback was done so well

- i knew Lila wasn’t trustworthy but i didn’t REALLY expect that! 

- Vanya and Luther talking with each other, Luther admitting the apocalypse wasn’t all her fault. beautiful

- the Majestic 12 reminds me of the conspiracy theory that only a few families control basically everything in the world. the Majestic 12 may be based off of that, idk

- idk about everyone else but Klaus’s scorpion and the frog story made total sense to me! frogs ARE bitches

- the diner scene.... ugh. it really shows that the two of them did fall in love and they did stupid in love things, like talking about their family, about why Dave wanted to join, favorite colors, favorite foods, etc. however that’s seen later on when Dave visits the compound

- yes it’s very disheartening when Klaus is attacked, but honestly i think it had to happen, just like the riot had to happen. the 60s weren’t a fun time for lgbt people and poc. it was only going to be a matter of time before the show HAD to acknowledge the consequences of Klaus’s ‘flamboyancy’ in 1963 Texas. it doesn’t make it right or easy to see, but it’s realistic. 

- it also makes sense that Klaus fell off the wagon after experiencing something like that. yes we all would’ve liked him to stay sober, but sobriety and recovery aren’t linear. 

- Allison is so happy with Ray can we please drop this pseudo-incest plotline let’s MOVE ON 

- Texas Grace ! who is not actually Grace rip (i think? i was a bit confused lol)

- the scene with Harlan running off was really upsetting but we got to see those weird light particles that we saw in the first season

- Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo

- Klaus being a dick to Ben again, as brothers do. i do feel bad for Ben though it must be sooo frustrating. that scene with him and Allison was really sweet and funny tho

- i just have to say that Luther and Diego are so fucking funny this season it’s awesome. like there are a LOT of good lines overall by everyone but they’re hilarious. “At least he didn’t shank my ass” “no bro, he shanked your heart”“Dads part of a sinister CABAL that’s plotting on killing the president.” “a caBAL?”“You two still a thing? *leans in* do we need to talk?” “No, she’s married.” “Woah dude... that’s rough.” and countless others

- the sibling reunion!! 

- Klaus really does get left out of everything tbh

- Ben :(

- sisters and Klaus!! that was so awesome to see. and Klaus’s hairpins, Vanya saying she’s gonna tell Sissy she loves her, their dance sequence, Klaus calling Allison out on that incest. beautiful

- the fucking Swedish cover of Hello was PERFECT i mean i was sad for the Swedes but it was hilarious. there were a couple beautiful shots of the boat on fire though

- god it must’ve been so traumatizing for Allison to be thrust into such a hostile place with no voice and no way to contact her family

-  idk about you guys but long live Team Zero

- calling Ben that he was becoming their father was a bit uncalled for 

- the fact that Klaus didn’t help Dave’s chances, and in fact escalated Dave’s own timeline.. his trembling hands... robert sheehan is an amazing actor

- the Black president bit lmaoo loved it

- the way Reginald spoke to Diego.. i’m gonna throw hands with an old man

- Klaus LITERALLY looked like he was having a seizure and they all just... played it off?? 

- poor, poor Carl. nah fuck him lol

- that bloody opening scene was awesome! and thank god Five got to say fuck. the fact that it was about a candy bar makes too much sense

- Robert Sheehan acting as Ben: amazing showstopping spectacular he’s so talented

- the whole multiple Fives and Luther bit was honestly really funny, and i immensely respect smaller Five over bigger Five. 

- yes Klaus, you survived a family of seven. you got this

- not sad about Carl dying one bit!

- Ben... that was such a beautiful scene. not just the content of the scene, but the cinematography. Ben fading away... Vanya hugging him... ugh. the main takeaway i had from that scene is that at the core of it all, Ben and Klaus love each other immensely. they have a weird, dysfunctional, fucked up relationship, where Klaus is an asshole and Ben definitely shouldn’t of possessed him without his consent, but they’re still brothers, and Ben forgives him. 

- oof Ben’s funeral was hard. also was it just me or did Klaus’s kid actor sound weird? like it sounded like Robert was dubbing his lines 

- all the siblings back together again!!!! Klaus going with Vanya to save Harlan!! Vanya telling him Ben forgives him and that it wasn’t Klaus’s fault Ben got stuck with him!! everyone in the car!!! be still my beating heart

- yeah didn’t see Lila having powers coming tbh. i really feel bad for her she’s had such a rough and traumatic life, especially with the Handler as her only parental figure

- the Swede brother and Five putting down their weapons: “enough.” the Swede wanted revenge for his brothers - an eye for an eye, but there was a mutual understanding between the two of them: they would do anything for their family. if the Swede hurts one of the Hargreeves, Five would never stop coming after him. i thought it was very beautiful 

- mmm Reggie’s foreshadowing coming into play. proud of u Five

- the ending was so beautiful. everyone got closure in some type of way. except now Klaus is alone with nothing but his dog tags :(

- EMO BEN HAHAHA WTFFF?? is Lila in the sparrow academy? why was Ben’s portrait over the mantle piece? did Five disappear?? is the sparrow academy just older versions of the siblings who stuck around?? so many questions

FINAL THOUGHTS

- Ellen Page’s acting consistently blows me away. she is amazing 

- beautiful cinematography, funny writing, pretty good acting. i didn’t like the soundtrack as much as i did the first season’s, but some of it wasn’t bad.

- i’m glad ben got peace, but i’m also glad justin min isn’t gone for good. his social media presence is too vital for us

- i swear to god if they keep treating klaus as a joke and don’t let him get any actual development like everyone else had (he barely got closure with Dave, he reconciled with Ben through a second party) next season, i’m gonna riot. PLEASE i want to learn more about his powers now that Ben is gone. what happened to seeing tons of ghosts when he’s sober??

- Luther and Diego were probably my favorite duo of the season, I’m so happy that they’ve reconciled and are bonding more. 

- just seeing Vanya grow and be happy was amazing 

all in all, really wonderful season. i probably liked it better than the first one. now it’s time to consume fanfiction and maybe finish my own (check out “god doesn’t want him and neither does the devil” on ao3!)

[beardrabbles]

rock solid bonds.       pt. two

characters: zhongli, female reader, gimel ( geo hypostasis )

warnings: none

word count: 2,520

notes: well, this took me too dang long to get to! got caught up writing other things, but i hope it was worth the wait. i’m fleshing out a plot for this along the way, and i’m hoping it makes sense in the end! but for now it’s just fluff. lottsa fluff and semi-slow burn. thank you for reading!! you’re a treasure.

Even if you hadn’t arrived at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor the night before and formally signed your name on the contract Zhongli had meticulously drawn out, you would have kept to your word and arrived at Gimel’s island the next morning as promised. You had little with you, since you were reminded with a rather stony voice that this was meant to be an exercise in understanding and not an opportunity for battle. All you had in your little bag was a tightly wrapped lunch, a book and another vial of the concoction you had brought the day before — just in case.

No weapons. No hostilities.

You felt odd keeping your hulking claymore out of sight, but it was for the best. You weren’t looking to actively sabotage yourself, after all, and the arrangement wasn’t an awful one. All Zhongli had asked of you was to be civil towards the hypostasis and to sincerely make up for the damage you had caused. No matter how unintentional it had been, you knew it was right thing to do.

“Gimel?” You had considered hiding behind one of the walls and calling out, but concealing yourself now seemed like a silly idea. Although, calling out the element’s name to the open air felt just as silly.

The ‘ arena ’ was empty, the domineering shadows of the surrounding outcroppings shifting away as the sun rose higher over the horizon. You couldn’t feel the usual vibrations through your feet, and that only added to your concern. Every hesitant step took you closer to the center of the circle that made up Gimel’s home.

Was it still afraid? Or had it fled knowing you would be visiting more frequently? You wondered if it were possible for it to take up residence elsewhere and if that would, somehow, spoil both of the contrats you had agreed to. Hot panic was on the verge of squeezing you hard around the chest when you heard a sign behind you.

Startled, you let out a little squawk and whipped around.

“Mr. Zhongli!” You were partially relieved to see him, partially irritated that he had approached so quietly. “I didn’t know you were there.”

“I apologize for the fright.” He sounded genuine, but the fact that his gaze was trained on the center of the circle didn’t elude you. “When did you arrive?”

“Not even five minutes ago.” You smiled sheepishly. “Had a rough morning, but I’m here.”

“I can see that.” A fleeting smirk flickered across his features before he pursed his lips and cast his eyes around the arena. “And our friend?”

“Hasn’t shown up.” You shifted uneasily but masked it as adjusting the shoulder straps of your pack. “Can’t really blame it.”

“Time and patience. Sincerity. The wounds you’ve left won’t be healed so soon.” Reminded your companion. You sighed and slipped your pack from your bag.

“I know. I just — I want this to go well.” You huffed and sat down heavily, pack beside you. When you looked up and found you were the only one seated, you patted at the ground beside you. Zhongli blinked once, processed the request, then came to join you. You weren’t sure why, but it was amusing watching a man so tall and proper folding his legs as he settled down. Yet he didn’t look the least bit out of place, his serene expression matching the gentle whisper of the wind. In the growing light of day, he seemed to glow, as if soaking in the blooming heat of the sun like light-starved soil and warming rocks.

“If that is your true desire, then I believe all will go according to plan.” He assured you. You were mesmerized for a moment — was that optimism or confidence? You couldn’t tell, but both were appreciated.

“You’re really sure?”

“I have been around for a long time, and I like to believe that I have become quite adept at reading people. Although.  .  .” He paused for a moment, lips turning down. You leaned in.

“Although?”

“Hu Tao says I can be quite oblivious at times.” Zhongli admitted. You snorted, drawing his attention.

“I wouldn’t have guessed it. Wait, Hu Tao. Isn’t she the director of the funeral parlor? Doesn’t that mean she’s your boss?” You asked. Zhongli nodded once, and you continued. “She doesn’t mind you slacking off and comin’ out here to see Gimel?”

“I am merely a consultant. My services are required only when they are needed. When I have no work to attend to, I tend to wander.”

You hummed and leaned back on your hands, eyes up towards the brightening sky. “Do you wander out here a lot?”

“I’ve found myself visiting Gimel more often as of late.” Zhongli said with a sideways glance. You frowned and refused to peek in his direction purely out of guilt. “I like to check on them every now and again, just to see if they’re recovering properly.”

“I didn’t think they needed to recover.” You grumbled.

“Our world is no different than our mortal forms,” started Zhongli, “it can and will hurt if people aren’t careful. We can leave wounds. Look around you — these islands are proof. Gimel is no exception. While it is acceptable to harvest from a hypostasis, harvesting too frequently can leave it permanently damaged. It needs time to rest, to regrow. Tell me, did you notice anything strange the last time you fought it?”

You thought back for a moment, trying to recall the last battle you engaged the hypostasis in. It had been two days ago, you remembered. It had rained heavily in the area, leaving the ground muddy, the stone slick and the sands clingy. It had been both a blessing as a curse, or you’d thought that then. Thinking back, you did think it strange that the basalt pillars it created weren’t as strong as usual. You wanted to blame the rain, but that had hardly been your first encounter with it in the middle of a drizzle.

 “I saw them crumbling. I thought it was the rain.” You finally answered.

“That is a logical assumption to make, but you are aware of the truth now.”

“Yeah, I am.” You slumped forward, elbows on your knees and chin held in your hands. “What about other people? What are we going to do if someone else comes here expecting to find Gimel?”

“We will give them the chance to change their mind.” Zhongli shut his eyes and took in a deep calming breath. “May I ask you something, Miss Y/N?”

“Sure. Go for it.” You shrugged and fell silent, allowing him the chance.

“Thank you. I hope I’m not being terribly invasive, but what were you doing before your contracts bound you?” The question was asked delicately, leaving you room to deny him an answer if it was one you were unwilling to give. And while it did surprise you, you weren’t sure that you had any reason not to answer.

“Honestly, nothing and everything. I didn’t have an actual job. I just sort of.  .  . did what people asked me to do. I ran errands, I lent a hand where it was needed, I’ve babysat.” You let out a small, bitter laugh. “Now I’m a servant for the damn——!”

You clamped your lips shut and shrank into yourself. Without looking, you knew Zhongli was staring sharply in your direction.

“For whom?”

“Does it matter?” You pulled your knees up and scowled into them. A moment quietly slid past, and you still felt his eyes on you. His piercing gaze bore a hole in the walls you had abruptly thrown up, and you found yourself squirming uncomfortably. “Fine, it’s the Treasure Hoarders.”

“I had ventured a guess, but I wanted to hear you say it.” Zhongli sighed through his nose. “Have they hurt you or your family?”

“No.” You shook your head. “Not yet.”

“You anticipate a change?” He wondered.

“I’ve never known them to be totally honest. They’re a small group with a dumb name, but they’re loyal to their leader. Well, both leaders. The guy in charge thinks that if he can get me to find all these treasures for him, he can present them to whoever’s above him in the ranks and get himself a lovely, safe position in the group.” You scoffed. Zhongli arched a brow.

“You seem to know an awful lot about this mans intentions.” He pursued carefully. At this, you allowed the barest hint of a simper appear.

“He’s an idiot. He talks loud because he thinks it makes him intimidating. It only makes him look like a moron when he tells everyone within hearing distance what his plans are.”

Zhongli couldn’t help but to chuckle. “Am I to assume he is.  .  . how have I heard it phrased before? Ah, right. All brawn and no brains.”

It was your turn to laugh now, but the sound was a surprise when it left you. Despite your first encounter with him being tense and awkward, you realized now just how at ease you were around him. He radiated peace and understanding, calmness and patience. Lately, those were all feelings you had seen a distinct lack of. Where the Treasure Hoarders were brusk and unforgiving, Zhongli aimed to educate and reshape.

You wouldn’t have assumed for a moment that you would find yourself casually talking to him after all that had happened the day before, but you were glad for it.

“He is.” But as you both fell into a comfortable silence, you began to grow curious about the man beside you. You didn’t want to shatter the quiet you two had created, but the realization that you wouldn’t have many days like this with him prompted you to turn towards him and devote all of your attention to him. “When did you meet Gimel?”

Zhongli was taken aback, and you couldn’t help but to wonder if he had become too comfortable simply sitting next to you. His amber eyes fluttered, then grew distant, as if peering at something in the far-flung distance.

“I don’t believe it’s an exaggeration to say I’ve known them my whole life.” He started. “I can’t seem to think of a time when I haven’t known them. The form has changed, but they’re still the same.”

“Sounds like you’ve always been connected. Guess that explains the Geo Vision.” You leaned back to glance at the crystal attached to his coat. He turned his head to look over his shoulder, but realized he couldn’t see it. Instead, he settled for admiring you and the way your eyes shone when you glimpsed his faux Vision.

“Do you have one?” He asked.

“No.” You sighed loudly and fell back, laying across the stone and resting your hands on your stomach. “Visionless! Not worthy. Haven’t done anything in my life that warrants the gods blessing me.”

“I don’t believe that.” Zhongli frowned, his stony expression marred momentarily by disapproval. “Lacking a Vision does not make a person unworthy.”

“But it does make the people that have one super special, right?”

“I.  .  .” Zhongli stopped, made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, then rerouted his thoughts. “You don’t believe you’re special?”

“Not at all. Do you?”

“Do I what? Believe I am special because I have a Vision, or do I believe that you are special?” His counter question was sudden and took you aback, like a sudden slap to the face. You gaped, and when you didn’t answer, he dared to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” You huffed.

“Your face. It turned the most interesting shade of red just then.” The smile he passed you was soft and kind with the faintest trace of amusement. You felt your cheeks burn hotter and quickly turned away to hide it, but it was too late. “Don’t be so quick to dismiss yourself. I sense potential in you.”

Your stomach knotted and your lungs were madly aflutter, all thanks to those words. Out of habit, you wanted to deny him, but the tender way he spoke was too reassuring not to latch onto.

“You’d be the first to.” You spared him a quick, embarrassed glance. “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it. It costs nothing to build a person up.” He reminded. You frowned, but not out of unhappiness. There was now a solid, burning determination in your eyes that Zhongli barely glimpsed when you stood. “What are you up to?”

“You just said that it doesn’t cost anything to build a person up. It should be the same for elements, right?” You grinned broadly, then cupped your mouth with your hands. “Gimel! I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you can, I want you to know that I’ve always thought you were really amazing looking!”

You paused, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Looking down your shoulder, you found Zhongli nodding approvingly.

“You, uh.  .  . Actually, if I’m being honest, I’ve seen a few hypostasis! I’ve seen the ones in Mondstadt, and the one in Dragonspine! You were always the one I was the most excited to see, even if it was to come fight you. You’ve been the toughest too. And I’m sorry!” You enthusiastic shouting was met with silence, but you thought for a moment that you felt the ground beginning to vibrate again.

As quickly as the sensation came, it left again, leaving the bottoms of your feet feeling numb. Had the hypostasis acknowledged you, or had you mistaken your quickly beating heart and rushing blood for the thrum of an elemental life force?

Your shoulders drooped, and your chest felt heavy.

“Don’t lose hope. I think what you said was lovely.” Zhongli encouraged. You sat down again and dragged your pack forward, drawstrings loosened.

“Thanks. I know you’re right. I know it’s going to take more than just saying nice things to fix what I did, but I’m going to do it. Even if we hadn’t made that contract, I’d be here.” You pulled out the lunch you had brought with you and carefully unwrapped it. “But all that shouting made me hungry, and we’ll be here for a little while longer. You want some? I made it myself.”

Zhongli made to shake his head, but you gave him a stern glare before he could.

“Don’t even. You need to eat too, you know.” You portioned out your food, placed it in his hand, then giddily began to scarf down your half. Zhongli felt an odd stirring in his chest as he glanced down at the food you’d prepared. You misunderstood the sudden admiration and gratitude for hesitation, so you nudged him gently. “I’m not the best cook in the world, but I’m not bad either! Trust me, it’s decent.”

“It smells wonderful.” Zhongli bowed his head. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it! Quick, eat it up before it gets cold.” You paused your chewed and pocketed the bite in your cheek. “I can bring something tomorrow too if you end up liking that. Sound good?”

Zhongli nodded, and the feeling in his chest grew more agitated. “I look forward to it.”