#anyway he starts bringing extra lunch just for her

[softquietsteadylove]

Hello, Love!

I don’t know if you are familiar with that but you know these days when you have such high anxiety and doubt about yourself? And that one friend who is your little light at the end of the tunnel?

How about Thena has this moment and Gil is there to hear her out and helps her calming down?

Would love to see some comfort moment between them!

Choose the AU.

"Boss?"

Thena winced as the knock and gentle voice came. She should have known he was still here, and she should have really guessed that he would just be able to sense that he should come to her office.

Gilgamesh had a bizarre sixth sense for when she was feeling less than her best.

He hadn't been in her unit long. Hell, the unit hadn't existed long, by this time. But every time she seemed to hit a wall with the brass, or they came back from a mission she was less than happy with, he seemed to know.

He would kind of drag his feet in leaving, hang around a little later than necessary. And then he would inevitably end up at her office door like this, asking to come in with such a soft tone.

How was she supposed to say no?

"Come in, Gilgamesh," she sighed, standing above her desk, staring down at the files she had been slapping around for the sake of her frustrations.

He poked his head in so timidly for a man of his stature. His shoulders followed as he slipped in unassumingly. "It's kinda late, isn't it?"

"I could say the same to you," she raised her brows at him, tipping her head to the side faintly. He didn't back down, though. Gilgamesh was frustratingly unintimidated by her. "It's a bad look for the team to be here later than the boss."

"Sorry," he smiled faintly, gripping the strap of his bag over his - truly massive - shoulder. "But, I mean...the question still stands, doesn't it?"

Damn this man and his emotional perception. She had no idea how he wasn't in the interrogation or psych branches. But she had to count herself lucky for that.

He looked around her office, which he had been in a handful of times before. As her chosen second in command, he had been in it more than anyone else, even the runner up being Kingo. "That's a lot of files."

Right, her migraine. She looked behind her and around the room, files simply stacked as tall as they could go without falling over. "Yes."

He chuckled faintly. He was also the only one not afraid to laugh in her presence, which she both respected and resented about him. He really seemed to see her as just some person--a real human, instead of the Goddess of War. "Seems like a lot to put on your plate."

"Well, that is what happens when you start your own division team," Thena sighed. She knew this came with the territory, perhaps she didn't think that it wouldn't be quite this...heavy.

"Is it just standard paperwork?" Gil shrugged, drifting closer to a file withing his reach. He kept his eyes on her, waiting for her to hiss at him or something. He picked it up, "reports and personnel files?"

"It is," she admitted, and didn't even want to do that much. But he was already reading the damn thing. "Paperwork for me to file, things that had to be filed before I was even the team leader, things for me to file now that I am. It's about six months worth of paperwork that has to be done within two weeks."

"That hardly seems fair," he frowned, setting the file down again.

"And does the agency prioritise fairness?" she eyed him. "Mister-Suspended-For-Rescuing-A-Cat?"

He chuckled, and his smile was so infectious and welcoming. It was hard not to smile when he smiled at her. "Okay, you got me there."

Thena looked back down at her desk. "Don't mind me. It's just some dirty work that has to get done. I knew it would come with the territory when I applied to have the Special Ops team designated anyway."

"Did you know you would be taking it on yourself though?" he frowned, even stepping closer to her desk and the chair that was across from hers.

"Yes," she sufficed to say. Didn't she do everything alone?

"That doesn't seem like the purpose of a team."

She frowned up at him as he swung his bag down to the floor to lean against her desk, seating himself as if he were just so at home in her office. "Excuse me?"

"Well, I guess the other guys don't have the clearance for all this," he shrugged as he picked up another folder of papers waiting to be signed and reports waiting to be reported.

"Gilgamesh," she said sharply, but her usually razor sharp tongue really just bounced right off this guy. Her crossed arms tightened and her frown deepened, "Gilgamesh!"

"I'm not saying it'll be fast, but doubling one is still twice as fast, right?" he went on, even picking up a pen - her pen! - to scribble his name on the papers. "Y'know, Kingo's really good at forging handwriting. If you have stuff you know only needs your name, I bet he could help-"

"Gil!" she barked, and finally, he looked up at her. She leaned over her desk, assuming the posture that usually worked to help her assert a certain predatory stance. He didn't even blink. "Go home."

He didn't even humour her, just looked back down at the paper.

"Gilgamesh, that is an order."

"It's almost midnight."

What? No, it wasn't. Thena looked over her shoulder at the clock above her desk. Fuck, it really was getting past 11:45; she hadn't even realised. She looked at him again, scribbling away, "all the more reason for you to leave."

"Not unless you're leaving with me," he looked up at her, "ma'am."

Her eye twitched; she needed sleep. She pulled out her chair roughly, "I could write you up for insubordination."

"And do even more paperwork?--I wouldn't," he snorted.

Fuck, he was right. Thena grabbed another pen for herself and aggressively swiped her signature over another paper. She glared at him, "you don't have to do this."

"I know," he admitted immediately, under no delusion that he would be rewarded for his disobedience. "Just doesn't seem right to bury you under all this. You can tell everyone you did it all yourself, if it's for your reputation. But I can't let you take this on alone."

He had such a tender heart. It was part of why she picked him, sure, but she didn't think she would ever have to be on the receiving end of such...tenderness.

He looked up at her, catching her glowering at him, and smiled.

Thena looked down at her paper, slashing through it with another signature. Her heart did a somersault in her chest. Perhaps she was more fatigued than she had initially thought. "Did you at least eat something?"

"I did," he volunteered between papers, "I'm sure you didn't."

That wasn't any of his business. "If I didn't?"

"Well, if you didn't," he shrugged, looking down at the done stack of papers to his left, "I would say I have some leftover lunch in my bag. But I'm sure my team leader is responsible enough not to starve herself while she's-"

"Okay, enough, just give it to me," she growled at him. And again, her snarling did nothing but encourage him. He bent down with a grin and handed over a perfectly wrapped riceball. "Please don't tell me you hung around here this late just to catch me doing paperwork."

"No, of course not."

Right. No, of course not, that would be ridiculous. She chewed her bite before asking, "so...what then?--why are you here?"

He smiled at her again, even more gently than last time (and yet the affect on her accursed heart was just as bad). "I was looking out for a friend."

Thena looked down at the rice ball. It had been in the fridge all day, but pulled out long ago enough that the rice wasn't hard. It was delicious, actually. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a friend.

She'd had teammates in her days in the academy. They had hated her. Trusted her, maybe, feared her, absolutely, but they certainly didn't like her. Even last she worked with Minerva, she wouldn't have called them friends (no matter what Minerva had to say about that).

She smiled; maybe having a friend wouldn't be so bad.

[libraryofgage]

Good Vibrations Part One

Hello, it's me, back at it again with another Steddie AU.

Anyway, if I were tagging this AU, these would be the most important ones: Deaf Steve Harrington; Tooth-rotting Fluff; Getting Together

If you wanna be tagged in future parts, just let me know!

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

----

Steve has blown through three pairs of hearing aids in the past year. The first pair had lasted a few years and needed replacement because of normal wear and tear. The second pair was sacrificed during that fight with Jonathan. He hadn't been wearing them, but they'd been in Steve's pocket, and he'd landed at just the right angle to feel them shatter. The third pair was taken by the Russians because, despite Robin's shouting and cursing at them for being dumbasses (and this was before she actually knew what they were for), they accused him of recording their kidnapping and torture.

Honestly, he wouldn't recommend fighting Russians and Billy and Mind Flayers and driving while nearly totally deaf.

The funniest part of it all, though, is that Steve doesn't even use hearing aids regularly. He normally only wears them at home. The pair lost to Jonathan were present because, well, that whole day had been a lot for Steve, and he needed the comfort of knowing he could stop reading lips the moment it became too exhausting for him. The pair lost to the Russians was because he'd been getting ready to tell Robin about being deaf. She'd already clocked the weird things he does (well, weird to her, normal to Steve), and he figured letting her in on the big secret would bring them a little closer.

Of course, that didn't go the way he expected. Robin thought he was confessing love and decided to beat him to the punch. That's how he learned Robin is a lesbian, and Steve couldn't let her be the only one admitting to something like that, so he told her about being bi and his long-standing, hopeless crush. And being deaf. But the bi with a crush thing seemed more important in the moment. She took it in stride, it brought them closer, and then Robin asked if Steve could teach her sign language.

Which meant that Steve had to learn sign language because he never had. Between not wanting to feel even more different than he already did and trying to convince his parents that, really, everything was fine and he didn't need to go to a special school for deaf and hard-of-hearing kids, he'd never learned. Learning it had somehow felt like an admission of weakness, and that was the last thing he wanted. But he learned for Robin, and they stumbled through sign language together, creating new signs only they knew.

But that's all in the past now, and Steve is working his ass off at Family Video to afford a new pair because he refuses to ask his parents for money. If he asks them, they'll come back, and that's the last thing he wants. They don't need to have all their worries confirmed that Steve is helpless, and he doesn't want them anywhere near Hawkins "Hellscape" Indiana.

So. Working his ass off, taking extra shifts, and babysitting the kids as much as he can to make up for the whole Friends and Family Discount he gives their parents. He's exhausted, but he gets to recharge somewhat during his lunch break.

About a ten-minute walk from the Family Video is a record store, which Steve has started visiting daily to just breathe. The lone worker in the store is usually too busy listening to her own music to pay Steve any attention, letting him wander and try to determine which records will best serve him.

Steve drifts over to the rock and heavy metal section, hoping to find a new album but unsurprised when he doesn't. He browses through them anyway, moving past Metallica and Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden. He already has all of these albums on his shelf at home. He has the cassette tapes for them, too.

But he really wants something new. He likes the novelty of experiencing unfamiliar vibrations through the speaker, letting them thrum through his fingertips and into his bones. It's fun and relaxing, and after all the bullshit he's been through lately, he probably deserves something relaxing.

After glancing over a few more familiar albums, Steve sighs and glances at the counter by the door. The lone worker is standing there, headphones over her ears, and idly flipping through a magazine. She's chewing gum, and Steve braces himself for the sheer hell of trying to read her lips without making it obvious he's reading her lips while she's got something in her mouth to disrupt the normal shape of words and sounds.

But he has to try. Steve takes one more deep breath before walking over, shoving his hands into his pockets when he comes to a stop at the counter. The girl raises a hand, motioning for him to wait, so he stays quiet as she finishes reading her page. She flips to the next one before looking up, not making any move to pull her headphones off.

"Hi. Do you have any new rock or metal albums coming in soon," Steve asks, feeling the vibrations of speech in his throat and hoping his words aren't too loud.

They don't seem to be. The girl doesn't flinch or pull back. She just looks him up and down, taking in the polo shirt and the nice khakis and the Family Video vest he forgot to take off before leaving. Finally, her neck and shoulders jerk slightly, and Steve knows she's huffed in annoyance. "No," she says, the word clear enough in the shape of her lips for Steve to know it immediately.

He frowns slightly, his fingernails digging into his palms. Steve wouldn't mind just leaving now, but something keeps him there. He just...he really wants new music. He needs something new. "Are there gonna be any shows nearby?" he asks.

The girl rolls her eyes and says something, her mouth distorted by gum-chewing. Steve can barely make out the words "you" and "check" from her response. Thankfully, it's accompanied by a vague gesture at something behind him. Steve looks over his shoulder to see a bulletin board with flyers plastered across it.

"Right. Thanks," he says, nodding to her before walking over. The flyers are all different colors with various fonts that scream for Steve's attention. Some of them are for bands, some are advertisements of garage sales or instruments in need of a new home, and others are just business flyers from stores nearby.

He's seen the bulletin board before, but he's never actually paid attention to it. Steve has always been laser-focused on browsing the records. But now, Steve carefully reviews each flyer advertising shows. Some are for comedy shows, which he immediately dismisses. One seems promising, but then he sees how far it is, and Steve definitely can't do an overnight trip like that.

Finally, Steve sees a flyer advertising a show at the Hideout later that week. It's close enough that he won't be out overnight. The place is kind of seedy, but Steve figures he can find some corner near the stage to hide. Or he can bring Robin and let her help him navigate any potential social situations. He tugs the flyer off the board, gaze lingering on the "Corroded Coffin" emblazoned across the top.

He knows the band. Of course, he knows the band. He's extremely familiar with their singer. From a distance. Honestly, Eddie Munson probably doesn't have the best impression of him, but Steve's heart never really cared about that. Because Eddie is like everything Steve wants to be: he's loud and unafraid of being so, he doesn't care about his image and how others perceive him, and he looks like his laugh sounds beautiful. Steve wouldn't know if he's actually right about that last point, but Eddie throws his head back when he laughs, eyes crinkled and hand over his stomach like his muscles ache.

His mouth suddenly feels dry, but he's also filled with unprecedented courage. Steve has graduated (barely), and that means a significantly lower chance of running into Eddie during the day if watching the show somehow goes wrong.

Steve folds the flyer into quarters and stuffs it into his back pocket. He'll be overly aware of it being there until Robin starts her shift and he can show it to her, but that's okay. He throws a quick thanks over his shoulder as he leaves the shop, glancing up at the bell he can't hear that signals the door's opening. He vaguely remembers what bells are supposed to sound like (he'd heard a few before losing the ability to hear them), but he doesn't let himself dwell on it.

Instead, he focuses on the trip back to Family Video, keeping an eye on the road to watch for any cars he wouldn't notice otherwise.

----

When the final bell rings, Eddie Munson can't get out of class fast enough. He'd been packed for the last five minutes, and he slid out of his seat the moment that first peal rang out. He has a gig to prepare for, and every second counts. At least, each second counts until he notices something (or someone) that could prove entertaining for a while.

He spots Dustin alone near one of the exits, and Eddie decides to relieve the kid of his isolation. He waits until he's behind Dustin to shout, "Henderson!" and throw his arm over the kid's shoulders, ignoring the way he jumps like he'd been expecting an attack.

"Holy shit!" Dustin shrieks, jerking back to look up at Eddie. "Don't do that, man, you're gonna give me a heart attack."

Eddie snorts, waving away Dustin's concern as he continues toward the exit. The general flow of students trying to get out helps him along, and Dustin doesn't seem to realize they're actually moving until they've gotten into direct sunlight. "You're fine," Eddie says, "Anyway, whatcha doing all alone, Henderson? Lose your way?"

"No, I have...stuff to do today," Dustin says, shrugging as he blinks to acclimate to the sunlight.

Oh, yeah, way too cryptic for Eddie to not dig for more. "Stuff? What kinda stuff? Got a hot date? Going shopping with your mom?" he asks, and then he gasps dramatically and moves to stand in Dustin's way. He puts both hands on his shoulders and very seriously says, "Be honest, Henderson, you're seeing another DM, aren't you?"

Dustin stares at him for a few seconds before rolling his eyes and shrugging his hands off. "Who else in this town DMs?" he asks, "Other than Will, I guess, but he's still working on a campaign."

"Fair," Eddie concedes, "so, whatcha really doing?"

After a few seconds of getting nudged by the students around them, Dustin sighs and says, "I have chores, okay? But that doesn't sound cool to say, does it?"

Fair. Eddie nods in agreement and moves out of Dustin's way, continuing to follow him. "So, what, your mom picking you up today?" he asks.

"No, Steve."

"Oh, the famous Steve."

Dustin nods, looking over the parking lot before pointing to one end. "Yeah, he's awesome," Dustin says as Eddie follows the direction of his finger.

And standing there, leaning against the hood of his car and looking to the side where a group of trees is swaying in the breeze, is Steve Harrington. Steve "The Hair" Harrington. King Steve. The worst thing, Eddie thinks, is that Steve looks good. His hair is still perfect, of course, and his stupid little striped shirt is pulling against his biceps and riding up just enough for Eddie to see a tiny sliver of tanned skin above his jeans. He looks a little tense, but Eddie chalks that up to him being back on the campus after already graduating.

"Harrington? You've been talking about Steve Harrington this whole time?" Eddie asks, his voice a little strained, "How the fuck do you know Steve Harrington?"

"He's my babysitter," Dustin says, his voice implying that much should have been obvious, but Eddie wants to grab his shoulders and shake until his head rolls off.

Steve Harrington doesn't babysit. He doesn't know nerds that talk about D&D. He doesn't drive nerds around. At least, he never did in high school. Granted, Eddie never actually talked to Steve, but everybody knew that Steve Harrington was too cool for, well, anything that wasn't the typical jock and popular guy shit.

As he's thinking about the last time he saw Steve Harrington (in the halls, while the guy had bruises and looked worse for wear), they get within shouting distance. And Eddie has zero impulse control when Wayne isn't around, so he doesn't think before shouting, "Hey, Harrington!"

Next to him, Dustin whips his head to glare at Eddie. And Steve Harrington doesn't fucking react. He just keeps staring at that group of trees like it's the most fascinating thing in the world. "Dude," Dustin says, grabbing Eddie's arm and yanking harshly, "don't shout like that."

Eddie frowns, anger beginning to simmer in his stomach at the complete lack of acknowledgment. "Why are you upset with me?" he asks, gesturing at Steve as he continues, "I'm not the one being a douchebag here."

Dustin opens his mouth, about to say something, only to snap it shut once more. He frowns like he's just realized he can't say something, and huffs with frustration. "Just...just don't do that," he finally says, keeping a hand on Eddie's arm and dragging him across the parking lot. And, yeah, something is definitely weird here.

Instead of just walking up to Steve, they make a large arch until they're within Steve's line of sight.

Eddie watches as Steve notices them, seeing Dustin first and pushing off the car. He relaxes for a split second until he sees Eddie and his shoulders tense again.

Great.

Once they're close enough for Eddie to count the moles above the collar of Steve's shirt, Dustin grins and says, "Hey, Steve." But it's odd, because Eddie has never heard Dustin talk this slow or this carefully, like he's doing his best to enunciate his words.

Steve flashes a grin and ruffles Dustin's hair. "Hey, twerp, you're late," he says. He then glances at Eddie, his grin becoming a little smaller, and says, "Hey, Munson."

Wait. Steve Harrington knows Eddie's name? And he called him by it? He said Munson, not Freak. Eddie stares at Steve for a few seconds before nodding. "Harrington," he says, "how the fuck did you become a babysitter?"

Is he just imagining things, or is Steve looking at his mouth? Like, really intensely. He's definitely not, because Steve looks up after a few seconds with a raised eyebrow. "I needed some extra cash. Also, don't swear around Dustin. I'm the one who gets in trouble when he curses in front of his mom."

Something about the words makes Eddie grin. Never in a million years would he have guessed that he'd be talking to Steve Harrington. And he would have laughed you into Mordor itself if you suggested their conversation would be about Dustin Henderson swearing in front of his mother. "What's his mom do when he swears?" he asks.

Because he can feel the conversation veering into something potentially embarrassing for him, Dustin lets go of Eddie and starts pushing Steve toward the driver's side of his car. "Okay, we gotta go. So many chores, so little time," he says, his voice back to that normal speed and enunciation.

Steve frowns slightly, looking down at Dustin and tilting his head just slightly. "What?" he asks. Instead of actually answering, Dustin just makes some vague gesture with his hand and looks at the car. "Oh, right. Go ahead and get in the car. And, uh, see you later, Munson."

"Is that a promise?" Eddie asks before he can think better of it.

Steve pauses, looking at Eddie's mouth with a slight scrunch to his nose. He seems to be considering something as Dustin scrambles into the passenger seat, watching them with narrowed eyes. Honestly, Eddie is surprised he's not blasting the horn to hurry Steve up. Finally, Steve comes to a decision and meets Eddie's eyes again. "Your band has a show tonight, right? At the Hideout? I was planning to go. So, yeah, I'll see you then, I guess."

And with that, like he hasn't just fucking rocked Eddie's world, Steve Harrington gets into his car. He makes sure Dustin is buckled before waving at Eddie and pulling out of the parking spot.

Eddie finds himself waving back, staring dumbly at the car as it pulls onto the street. It only hits him a few seconds later that Steve Harrington is coming to his show. At the Hideout. His metal show. A Corroded Coffin gig at the Hideout.

Holy. Shit.

[astra-kamari]

Sleeping was overrated anyway

Summary-nightmares have been plaguing your mind-and everyone tries to help

Gaang x Y/n - Sokka x Y/n

You havent been sleeping. The nightmares just keep coming and coming. In them you always loose your friends. First Katara, then Zuko, then Toph and Aang, and then- you didn’t want to think about it. Sokka, his death always hurt you the most.

So you decided if you didn’t sleep no problems would happen. At first it was easy, you would go for a walk, train, or just look at the stars.

After a few days your friends started to notice. You were constantly yawning, moving slower in training, and you were constantly irritated.

Each of the gaang tried their own ways to ask what was wrong.

Katara and Y/n were making breakfast. Katara quickly noticed how much YN was yawning, and getting upset at every little thing with the food.

“Are you alright?”

“Im fine”

“Ok you just look a little tired…”which was a understatement when she saw the bags under your eyes

“Im fine-and im not tired.”

“Ok” she says watching you struggle with the food. “Why dont you go train with Toph?” Katara was hopeful that Toph would have better luck figuring out what was wrong with you.

Toph and Y/n started training in hand to hand combat when they stopped to eat some lunch. It had been quiet for a minute when until Toph decided enough was enough and nudged Y/n. Her head immediately snapped up

“I’m awake, I’m fine, I’m awake.”

“Are you sure theres nothing you need to tell any of us? You can talk to anyone, you know.”

“Yup” you said popping the p

“And you’re not tired?”

“i am 100% ok”

“If you say so”

Aang and Y/n were out for a walk, You were trying to focus on walking so you didn’t trip, but the world had other plans as you stumbled but you caught her self on a nearby tree. After that you focused extra on walking and less on Aang babbling about the air benders air ball matches. Only to be defeated by air again, as you started falling to the ground, however Aang quickly caught you.

“Are you sure your ok?” He says carefully “you’ve been acting kind of tired-“

“I’m not tired!” You breathed in and out “i am perfectly fine and wish people would stop asking me if im tired!”

“Ok-lets just head back its almost dinner anyway”

Zuko had made tea while you and Aang were gone, he looked up as you walked into camp. “Hey guys want some tea? It’s the kind my uncle made…jasmine i think”

“Yeah ill take some” Aang grabbed his cup and left to his tent-leaving you and Zuko alone.

“Soo”Zuko said, trying to start conversation

“Don’t even start” you say raising a shakey hand of tea to her mouth. You try to use your other hand to stabilize it, but that just makes things worse and you spill the tea. You angrily set the cup down and stare off to the distance.

“So…uh….do you need anything?”

“No” you replied curtly

“Um ok then.” After a couple kinda awkward minutes he stands up and leaves….to Sokkas tent?

You pulled your knees up to your chest and look at the stars. Then yoy see why Zuko went to Sokkas tent. You were quickly trying to come up with a believable lie, when Sokka started walking towards you.

“Hey” he said sitting down next to you. After you ignore him, he pulls you into his lap, pushing your armas away and raping his around you.

“You want to tell me whats wrong?” He whispers into your hair. You shake your head no and sink into his chest.

“You know your going to have to sleep eventually.”

“I dont want to.”

“Well its kinda a bodily function, everyone’s human-or do you have something you want to tell me?”

“No, your right, i have to sleep. Its just…. Well i-“

“Its ok, you dont have to tell me”

“No i will, i just-saying them out loud makes it real”

“Makes what real?”

“The fears-the nightmares bring them to life”

“nightmares?”he pushes

“Yes, nightmares. Thats why I haven’t been sleeping. I-im scared of loosing all of you. Every single time i close my eyes i see everyone dead around me-and i cant move, i cant scream, i cant do anything. And every time i saw you dead on the ground, i broke. It hurst so bad, and im-scared.” You finish sucking in a long breath.

He looks down at you “i have a idea” and with that he scoops you up bridal style, and carries you to his tent.

Its not like you havent been in here before-but this felt different, more comforting. He flings open the sleeping bag puts you in there and snuggles in right next to you. “Better?”he asks

“Better.” It’s quite for a while. “Sokka?what if the dreams come back”

“It will be different”

“How do you know?”

“Ill be there to protect you”

And you’ve never slept more peacefully in your life.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 10

Pairing: Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sister!Reader

A/N: Well, buckle up I guess

Warnings: Plot™️, I know clocks are canon but it still feels weird to do this, starting heavy 💪

Word Count: 6,012

-Part 9- -Part 11-

He sighs.

It’s not like she can help the way she is. Not like she can help the fact that whenever she tries to make things better it simply creates more work for him to do. By receding into her room, he has to pay more attention to when she appears, becoming extra vigilant in the moments she steps outside.

He shouldn’t be so harsh. Sometimes fatigue clouds his judgement, enough so it becomes apparent to even himself sleep is a necessary luxury. Still, they’re harmless behaviours really. Small habits that with the right guidance will enable her to flourish again.

A broken bone that needs to be left to set, to be good as new.

6:57 p.m.

Azriel massages his temples, the beginning aches of a headache making themselves apparent. Eases in a breath, counts, and releases. It seems a night of rest is unavoidable, but there’s so much to be done. He could perhaps rearrange breakfast…but that would collide nastily with training. Maybe moving lunch to three instead? But then that would impact the start time of going though the towering stack of reports, which would in turn result in him working later anyway.

Thick brows narrow as he prowls silently down the hallway of the River House, deciding to leave for some peace and quiet. It’s not an idea he’s keen on, but if he dips out of practice with Cassian atop the House of Wind tomorrow…that would work. Frustration simmers in his knuckles, tightening the trapezius. He doesn’t like the idea of skipping over valuable training time with the priestesses. They’re forcing themselves out of their comfort zone. The least he can do is respect their resolve by attending.

He’s so caught up in thoughts of schedule and routine he only realises she’s in the River House, on the same floor, when she’s a single corridor away. Another thing he needs to keep an eye on. Swiftly reorganises his thoughts, rotating and recalling the information his shadows have provided over the recent days and hours. The scraps of speculations Mor had offered from a single outing. If he remembers correctly, she will have just gotten back from her trip with Mor now. So why is she here? She should be back up at the House by now, retreating to her room away from everyone else.

Still, he rounds the corner in time to see her click a door closed—her sister’s. His curiosity piques, shadows already recollecting the news they’ve catalogued for the female with soft, cocoa eyes. Gloves still adorn her hands, but it does nothing to conceal their tremor.

Attention narrows in on her, darkness skittering back into the corners of the hallway, hiding between his wings as he approaches. Her lips are chapped and tight, features strained as her gloved hand rests for a moment atop the handle. Appearing in her own world—eyes glazed and vacant. Her jaw is wound tighter than usual, tight enough he can hear the grinding of enamel, like bone and porcelain powdered against rock. Brows draw together at the notice of her waxen complexion, skin gleaming faintly with peaky dew.

Blank eyes flick up to meet his own, and he steps forward. Her hand stiffens on the handle, posture turning rigid. Scent taking on a tang he’s far too familiar with from nights spent with his blade. He comes to a stop, keeping his distance from her taut form.

Azriel’s first thoughts are she must be pushing too hard with her magic. Honestly, he hadn’t anticipated her to be so resolved in mastering her power independently. Neither had he anticipated her making a lick of progress. At least not through measures that a sensible mentor would allow.

He should never have yielded to her look of despair. She’d be safer if he had simply insisted on doing things correctly. A foolish mistake on his part, and now she might be going down the wrong path. “Are you okay?” He asks, splitting his weight equally between each foot, resting in his place. Watches the roll of her throat, shifting in place, away from Elain’s door. Had there been an argument?

She nods her head, trying to straighten her spine as she sometimes does when pulling herself together. The effect is nullified by the was she hangs her head, never quite succeeding in meeting his eye for extended periods. He shouldn’t have ignored it for so long. Leaving something like that unchecked… Well, he should have known better.

“I’m—” She clears her throat, and tries again. “Good. I’m fine.” Nods to herself, eyeing the floorboards with bland eyes. He waits quietly, allowing the silence to coax her into unravelling. She shifts again, stepping away from Elain’s door, her gaze flitting about the corridor. Flicks to the stairs behind him, leading down to the exit—likely wanting to return to her haven up in the House by now.

Eyes regain a little focus, pupils contracting as a nervous smile quirks her mouth, nodding to the door as she makes for the stairs. “We were just speaking,” she elaborates, moving away hastily. “Catching up.”

Azriel watches, noting the briskness of her steps. It’s unusual for her to be so keen to leave his presence. What had happened?

“Wait,” he says, turning as she makes to move past him, peering at the floor, marking her steps. She pauses, gloved hand resting on the carved and polished banister. He steps forward, morbidly intrigued by the glaze in her eyes, as if made of glass. “You aren’t well,” he states. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” you repeat blandly, “just tired.”

Something bad then, if she’s not willing to even discuss whatever exchange happened with Elain.

Shadows loiter at the threshold, waiting to hear for any sounds that might offer hints, like the soft breath of cries, or the gentle splash of muffled tears. Nothing.

She turns again, descending the stairs, sweeping down the case quietly as she makes a bee-line for the door, vanishing out into the dark, leaving him perplexed and curious. A dangerous combination for the Spymaster.

She’d looked shaken up, so he should make sure things are okay.

It’s been a long while since he last had a one-on-one conversation with the soft-eyed female.

Azriel turns in the hallway, moving back the way she’d come.

8:36 a.m.

“We should talk.”

His words pull you from the world of bliss that had been graciously clouding your mind. Peer down at him from where you’re straddling his lap, pale sheets crumpled, clothes strewn about from being swiftly discarded. “About what?”

Thick, dark brows narrow over piercing golden eyes, full lips twisting down in the corners. Your own features shift to match his, “now, Bas?”

He sighs, large, warm hands splaying across the bruised skin of your hips. “I know, I know, I suck at timing. No need to tell me.” Almost immediately the edges of your lips lift up, a smile tugging at your mouth, vanquishing the momentary surge of annoyance. Fingers lightly press into the softness of his chest, spine losing its rigidity, relaxing your weight back onto him. Feeling slightly dizzy as pleasure sinks into your bones.

“Fine,” you mutter, playfully, “what is it?”

Bas shifts beneath you, thumbs soothing your skin, your back arching as you attempt to still the swirl of your hips. “Two things, actually,” he clarifies reaching higher, a reassuring pressure over your ribcage, rubbing to your waist. Peek down at him, raising a brow, “I wondered why you weren’t giving me a hard time tonight,” —shake your head, smiling slightly— “I should have known.”

He offers a tight smile and your own slips away. “Now you’re worrying me,” you murmur quietly, fingers curling. “What is it?” Golden eyes meet your own, concern shining in their depths, “you’ve been off recently. And I’m worried. So, it’s fine to be emotionally intimate too… Yeah?”

You blink, lips parting in surprise. “I’ve been…off?” Brow furrows in confusion, “what do you mean by that? Am I doing something wrong?” It’s an earnest question, yet it resonates a little deeper than you had expected. Thankfully he doesn’t pick up on the inner conflict. “It’s not that,” he reassures, hands stroking slowly, lightly. “But you’ve worn the same dress the last three times I’ve seen you.”

Internally, you cringe, making to pull away. “Do I smell?” You ask, wincing, bringing your arms to your chest. A slight smile tugs at his lips then, “no.” Relax a little, hands twining as he brings them back to his torso. “But…you taking care of yourself up there?” Sigh, shoulders losing their tension, lips resting into a quirked position.

“I’m fine, Bas. I like it up there, where it’s quiet, and—”

“No.” He interjects gently, hand slipping from yours, pushing a strand of hair from your cheek. Lightly cups your jaw, thumb skimming across the skin. “I mean up there.”

Spine stiffens, fingers freezing. Breath pauses. “Everything’s fine,” you murmur, watching him. He gives a look that urges you to stop lying, squeezing your hands. “Talk to me,” he says in response. “Something’s up. I can tell.”

“Bas—”

“Don’t even try,” he murmurs, golden eyes shimmering as he peers up at you. “I know what that feels like,” he whispers, hand raising to skim your breast, thumb brushing atop your heart. “I know change is difficult.”

“Bas, I don’t want to talk about it.”

Eyes lock, staring at one another.

His hand falls away.

Muscle loosens.

Licks his lips, gaze flitting elsewhere. “I was lonely too, when the attack happened.” Spine softens, brows tightening. Wait silently for him to continue. Licks his lips again, returning to watch you. “Ma… It was hard on both of us, losing pa. Y’know one day he was there, then the next it’s just us.” His throat rolls, eyes glazing as he looks into the middle distance. “We had our own ways of dealing with it—the loss. Mother knows I can’t talk about healthy coping mechanisms, I practically fucked anything that would let me. Probably drank more than I should have, too.”

The attack.

You and your sisters hadn’t yet come here, still mortally human and wonderfully unaware. Well, you and Elain, anyway. Even now, there were still signs of the aftermath. Traces of grief that had yet to be healed.

He shakes his head slowly, limbs turning stiff. “It got… I know what it’s like.” Golden eyes latch to your own. “So talk to me. Don’t keep that—…stuff, to yourself.” Shake your head, breaking the connection, pulling away. “There’s nothing to talk about. Stop prying.” Shake off the heaviness, easing a breath. “What else did you want to talk about?”

His expression is indiscernible, brows dipped, lips tugged down, eyes swirling with molten gold. Shifts beneath you, your hands pressing to his chest to steady yourself as he raises into a sitting position. Moving to be eye-to-eye, hands spanning your waist, gently keeping you still. Fingers brush the concealed muscle of his shoulders, linking at his back, hips winding in gentle encouragement.

A rough-skinned palm settles on the nape of your neck, sliding and gripping your hair lightly. Thumb oscillates over your waist. Calling up loneliness from the pit of your chest. Lips brush your mouth, the slightest caress of hot skin that feels like heated silk and tastes like spices and thyme. He looks like he’s about to try again, but decides against it, instead pulling you forward.

Only you’re taken to the crook of his shoulder, palm cupping the back of your head. His free arm snakes up your back, cradling you to his chest. Keeping you close by. At first you’re stiff, unsure how to react, muscle locks as his skin presses hot to your own, smooth and soft. Warm hands soothe along your spine, gently skimming across the expanse, tracing the knuckles of bone. Fingers draw light patterns atop, oscillating and sketching with reassuring steadiness.

He makes no move to kiss you, just holding you still, the thick locs of his hair scratching softly against the nape of your neck. His arm spans across the back of your waist, hand flattening against your side, thumbing over the skin, soothing you to melt.

Your bones begin to feel heavy in your body, sinking low as you hesitantly raise your arms to lock over his sturdy shoulders, tentatively shuffling to rest your cheek against him. Inhale slowly, deeply, taking in his scent—like rosemary and myrrh. He settles across your skin, and you sink deeper, emotion thawing as you melt into his arms, so tender and soft. Healing and welcoming.

Wet drops splash atop his shoulders, dripping onto dark skin as arms pull a little tighter, squeezing as lips tremble. Spine shudders, soft breaths stuttering as tears trickle down your cheeks, wetting strands of hair as fingers grip closer. Full lips graze your temple, and you feel those small cracks that had emerged during your argument with Feyre begin to spiderweb out, restraint fracturing just a little more.

Lower lip wobbles, and you curl around him tighter, body shuddering with quiet sobs as he holds you. Dry hands wrap into fists, nails biting the flesh of your arms as you fall into him, wanting to be washed away.

To peacefully melt to a place far from memory.

Slowly fade into absence.

2:43 p.m.

The iron-cast ring weighs on your palm, the glittering blue jewel of its swollen abdomen gazing up at you like silver moonlight dripping to dark, gleaming midnight. Polished and sharp like armour and blade.

“Do you like it?” Mor asks from your side, peering over your shoulder. You’d heard her footsteps that time, but shake your head absently, putting the ring back where it belongs. “It’s a lovely piece of jewellery,” you hedge, not wanting to talk badly when the shopkeepers are around. Spiders are still a little too close to home—insects at all, really.

She hums quietly, attention skimming to a piece beside it: a silver band fashioned to the stalk of a flower, the petals looking like stretched out droplets of warm citrine. Mor examines it for a moment, then holds it out for you to look at, which you do. “What about this one?” Fingers mindlessly come up to fumble with the glass pendant at your neck, steadily becoming a habit. “It’s very pretty,” you answer, hoping it suffices. Mor hums again, seemingly getting the hint, returning it to sit on the counter.

“You liked the dress, didn’t you?” She asks, quietly. Brows dip together as you turn in her direction, cascading golden hair loosely tied back. “I mean you wanted it. Not just because I was pushing you to get something.” A beat of quiet passes, and you examine her expression: the edges of plush and pillowy lips lengthened by slight worry lines, brow marginally dipped in the centre. Minute shifts in features that would have gone undetected by human eyes.

Throat rolls as you look away, but nod. “I did like it,” you mumble, fumbling your words, “do like it. Thank you.”

“Have you worn it yet?” She asks. Dread ices your skin, eyes flitting to honey warm irises. “I— No…” you manage honestly. Look away, scanning the jewels, that blue spider again catching your attention. “It’s a special dress,” you murmur, “I was waiting for a special occasion.”

More quiet beats between you, background chatter buzzing through your mind. But then she nods, accepting your answer. “It looks nice on you,” she replies, picking up a necklace this time—a thin chain of gold that shimmers beneath the daylight streaming in from the windows. Dip your head in silent thanks.

Peer out into the streets, watching fae pass by, enjoying their lives. Spots of colour splashing along as they go about their day. Eyes mark a small shop across the road, stools holding little trinkets like cups and pottery spilling out onto the cobbles, ceramics gleaming beneath the lowering sun. Plants sway in the crisp breeze outside, the nippy winds of early autumn already setting in.

Ease in a steady breath—there’s less than a week left until you’re due to complete your side of the agreement, and only small bits and pieces of progress to show. Not enough to avoid bringing it up to the rest of them.

Glance at Mor from the corner of your eye, watching through your peripherals as she holds up a necklace to herself, peering into a mirror. How would she react if you told her right now? She’d probably smile and tell you that’s great. Maybe ask you to show her or give a demonstration. The breath releases, knowing that question will crop up eventually. Seeking results when you have none to provide.

“Are you coming to dinner tonight?” She asks breaking you out of your wondering. Blink, pulling yourself back down, having forgotten about the extra supper they’d decided to fit in. Shake your head, turning your attention back to the jewellery stand, then flitting out to the shop. “I’m feeling pretty tired,” you reply quietly, “so I don’t think so.”

“Sure?” She says absently, already having moved onto the next stand. “The food’s really great—pork that practically comes part on your tongue. And the jam that goes with it is absolutely mouth-watering,” she dreams, smiling faintly as her fingers scrunch with anticipation. Your nose wrinkles for a split-second before you shut off the reaction, offering a bland smile, “how lovely.”

“You must try it at some point,” she gushes, turning to you now, accessories forgotten. “It’s one of my favourite places in Velaris. All the dishes they serve are,” —her hand flexes, as if trying to grasp onto something, eyes briefly shutting in bliss— “amazing.”

You smile again. “I’m sure.”

Warm-honey eyes narrow on you, examining the set of your expression. “You liked the soup,” she says, “what else do you like?” Throat rolls and you shift on your feet, fumbling. “Mash?” Mor nods slowly, remaining silent; in doing so forcing you to speak, too awkward to allow it to continue. “With thyme… Beans are nice, too?” She continues her bout of silence, quietly watching you. “The rice and…sauce. That’s been nice. Very nice.”

Her brows squish together, tension coiling in your stomach and shoulders. Lick your lips. “The—…” You pause, not knowing the name of the food. “The doughy balls? With…mushroom? in the middle? With—”

Eyes pop open. “You don’t eat meat.”

“I eat meat,” you say, hurriedly, but she’s in her own world.

“That’s why Az—” Her hand smacks up onto her forehead and you internally cringe—was the coddling that noticeable? To everyone but you?

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She asks, a mix of shock and exasperation lining her tone as she stares at you. Throat rolls and you turn away from her, picking up the silver band with the citrine-coloured flower. “I can eat meat just fine,” you mutter quietly, “it’s not as though there was anything else.”

“There was the soup,” she argues, still facing you, “you could have asked me to pass it to you—I even had some for myself.”

“No, I mean—” —eyes lock, her brows risen in confusion, not accusation. You sigh, shaking your head. “Sorry. Forget I said anything…” Her neatly groomed brows dip, head tilting ever so slightly. “No, what were you going to say?” She asks, voice quietening. Glance at her sidelong, fiddling with the ring in your hand, sliding it on and off your gloved little finger—far too large for it to possibly get stuck on. Lick your lips, spinning the band as you fidget. “I just mean, it’s basically all we ate back then,” you mumble, peering at your feet with forced interest. “Just brings back some bad memories, is all. Nothing I can’t deal with.”

She sighs softly, and guilt tightens your stomach, putting the now-warm ring down, listening to it clink on the glass. “You don’t like meat,” she states. It’s not a question.

“I can eat it,” you counter quietly, not wanting to be a bother. You’ve seen how much the others enjoy it. “But you wouldn’t choose it,” she returns, keeping her body open as she faces you. Shift on your feet, “I… No.”

Mor nods, hair glinting like freshly spun straw beneath a summer day. “Then we can eat somewhere else. Or order different dishes,” she reasons smoothly, “I’ll just mention it to the others since none of us even knew. Well, I suppose Az—”

“Please don’t,” you interrupt, cringing internally. “It’s fine. Meat’s good for you and I shouldn’t be so picky anyway. It’s annoying.”

“To who?” She asks, making you glance at her. “Who does it annoy?” She repeats, seemingly earnestly. “It’s silly to switch restaurants just because of…because of something so small. I can eat when I get back, anyway. It’s fine.”

She looks appalled.

“Mor, please don’t say anything,” you repeat quietly, meeting her eyes, a pained look unknowingly on your features. “I’m fine with how things are. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” Her brow narrows, eyes flicking around the shop, taking in the other customers. “None of us would mind,” she says quietly. “You wouldn’t be causing a problem. We’ll just order more dishes without meat. We don’t have to change places if nobody wants to.”

But you shake your head adamantly. “I can eat when I get home. Please don’t change what you order just because—”

“Why don’t you deserve to eat food you like?” She asks sharply, voice remaining quiet but harsh. Blink at the tone, stiffening briefly before tension uncoils from your muscles. “It’s not like that,” you reply, turning from the display, slowly stepping toward the door. Mor follows beside you, appearing to have lost interest in the surrounding trinkets.

“No?” She asks, glancing at you through her peripherals. “What’s it like, then?”

You pause in the street, feet halting their movement as the question registers. She halts at your side, slowing to a stop, attention turned to you. “Mor, I don’t know how I could possibly put into words…” A heavy sigh escapes from you, shoulders sloping, exhaustion lining your eyes. “Never mind. Forget it.” Spine straightens, continuing heavily across the street to the shop with the little carvings and pieces of glazed pottery.

She follows quietly as you wander toward the stalls, inspecting the bits and bobs on display. Watches you quietly, taking in the ankle-length dress, clunky boots, thick cardigan and scarf. The vomit-yellow gloves. She should at least find another pair with a lighter colour for you. “You know,” she begins softly, a hint of a smile in her tone, “for someone so reserved, I didn’t expect you to be so stubborn.”

Fingers freeze for a moment, reaching out toward a small carving of a woman holding some drooping daisies. Breath catches, before you manage to resume motion, picking up the small figurine. “Sorry,” you mumble, “I don’t mean to be.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” she murmurs. “You’re strong willed. It’ll serve you well.”

But you shake your head in denial. “Feyre’s strong willed. So is Nesta.”

“Do you think Elain is?” Mor asks, holding up a glazed mug she clearly has no interest in. Your brow dips, peering at her, not having anticipated the change of direction. “Why are you asking?”

“She’s been quiet, no?”

Turn your attention back to the woman in your hand, flipping her over to peer at the lines of her dress—swaying in a breeze. I wonder why… You think sardonically. Instead a hum lulls from your mouth, non-committal and vague. Mor nods her head, again picking up those minute hints you’re unaware you’re even capable of dropping.

“That’s a nice carving,” she says brightly, redirecting the conversation without a hitch, smooth fluidity long ago mastered. “Your father was a carpenter, wasn’t he?” She asks softly. “Would you like it?”

Gloved fingers rub the concealed skin of your other hand, knuckles itching for reprieve. Under ordinary circumstances, you would have declined the offer— it looks well carved. Not that you have an eye for such things. This time, however, you can make an exception. “That would be nice,” you answer quietly, “thank you.”

Swallow down the apology that had been slowly making it’s way up from your stomach.

She smiles then, and you look away.

She’s far too bright.

6:49 p.m.

You excuse yourself as soon as you step inside, heading up the stairs and along the hallway before returning to the House of Wind. Walk quietly along the floorboards, hoping to avoid any unnecessary confrontations. Reach the door you’re looking for, landing a series of knocks to the hardwood. “Elain?” You call, listening for a reply. She answers, letting you to come in, voice soft but terse.

The door swings open on oiled hinges, and you step inside, hearing it snick shut at your back. Eyes instantly locate your sister, sat in a large armchair facing the lit fireplace. Curtains are drawn, blocking out what little light remained in the sky, room set aglow with the golden-orange of flame. Cocoa melts to something soft and spicy as she peers into it, and you wonder if she’s perhaps missing Lucien.

“Hey,” you mumble quietly, noting how she seems kind of distant. You can’t help but be reminded of those initial months, the transitional stages of your lives where the world was turned upside down. How she’d shut down almost entirely, rarely speaking. Rarer still to get anything coherent, like she was trapped in a dream state. “I just…I wanted to see you,” you murmur, moving toward her.

Haunted eyes flick up to meet you, blank as they take you in with ghostly smoothness. She blinks and it’s gone, gesturing to a seat opposite from her, closer to the fire but angled for prime conversation. A smile lifts the edges of her mouth, etched with strain, chest stretching as you take in her fatigue.

Sigh heavily, settling into the plush armchair, remaining straight-backed as you put the paper bag at your feet, careful with the little carving. Wait for a beat to pass before looking to her, cocoa already reattached to the fire. “Elain,” you call quietly, gaining her attention. In the light of the flame the circles beneath her eyes are more pronounced, shadow flickering across the heavy crescents. Worry takes root in your gut—it seems to be taking more of a tole on her than you’d thought.

“You went out with Mor today didn’t you?” Elain asks, voice soft and faint, as if coming out of a daze. A shy smile curves your lips, nodding. “How was it?” She asks distantly, gently curled hair hanging in rich ringlets, tight and silky as they spill down the lilac night gown she likes. Throat rolls, turning your attention to the fire. Will this ever be an easy subject between the two of you? Between any of you?

Eyes flit down to the bag, pulling it up into your lap for comfort. “It was good,” you manage softly, nodding. “It was…nice. To be outside. Around someone, for a little.” Elain nods, a bland smile on her face, though you don’t doubt its sincerity. “I—…Mor’s nice,” you add, fumbling your words as you try to direct the flow of the conversation toward what you’re trying to get at. But you’ve never been good at reading the room, and it’s showing.

“You should…I mean, it would be nice for you to come along sometime…” you suggest, trailing off as fingers wring together in your lap, playing with the paper handle of the bag. “We could…I don’t know…” Shift in the chair as you try to think of something. “I’m sure there are some shops for gardening, or somewhere to sample pastries? You’re trying out pastries at the moment, aren’t you?” Eyes flit to your sister, the smile gone from her lips, lids heavy as she soaks in the heat of the fire. Letting it drink her in.

She’s quiet, and it’s obvious something’s off. Or is she just tired? She’d told you she’d been sleeping badly recently, has it not yet gotten better? Run your attention over her supple form, smooth skin over tight knuckles, the lilac of the fabric complimenting her drained complexion, dark circles beneath her eyes making the rich coca of her irises deeper, swirling with thought. They flick to you suddenly, shadow being cast across her delicate features as she turns, as if about to speak.

You look down into your lap abruptly, staring at the little carving. “I miss dad,” you blurt out quietly, the words being hauled up your throat, spat out into the air.

Elain stiffens in your peripherals, and your lips press together tight. Heart heavies, shoulders no longer being held taut as you begin to drown into the cushion. “I know…” you begin quietly, thoughts eddying away once you try to grasp for them. Just stare at the maiden holding the drooping daisies. “I was thinking about him,” you say quietly, managing to keep your voice somewhat even. “Earlier, when I was out with Mor,” you clarify, reaching into the bag.

Push the paper apart, reaching for the female figurine. Fingers brush the smooth wood of the carved figure, the pads able to sense the very grain with heightened nerve endings. She’s hewn from a darker material, deep brown and riddled with smooth and polished knots, creating a labyrinthine twist of swirling lines and wrinkles. It was probably once a beautiful piece of trunk, carried from a forest to a carpenters shop, whittled away until the figure emerged.

“I want to speak with you.”

You look up, hand stilling, fingers grasping the carving. Maybe…you’ve learned in the past it’s better to let someone else lead the conversation. Yours don’t seem to go anywhere unless the other is interested in a continuation.

“Okay,” you murmur, releasing the statue, pulling free as you return the bag to your feet, set aside so you can deliver her your full attention. “What is it?”

Elain blinks slowly, and hairs rise on the back of your neck.

“Elain?” You encourage, no more than a whisper.

For a long moment she won’t speak, just watching intently, as if she can see through you and is examining the sub-atomic structure of your soul, down to the bits and bobs between. Stiffen as cocoa bores into you, looking far older than should be possible as the flame flickers dully in muted brown. Throat rolls, trying to maintain the connection, letting her know you’re there. She’s been around for you; it’s the least you can do.

The contact breaks, her lids closing briefly, gaze returning to quietly observe the fire. Taking in its motion—how the heat wells, practically rolling from the hearth to the rugged floorboards. “There’s been something…” Elegant brows dip almost imperceptibly, the edges of her delicate mouth quivering, lips parted on a syllable. Close again, as if the words won’t suffice for what she’s trying to say. The fire almost seems to match her, growing more intense as she stares into it, shadows darkening as they writhe across the walls, like the wings of a great creature.

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” she murmurs absently.

Worry sparks across your chest but you say nothing, allowing her to articulate her thoughts at the pace she wishes.

Cocoa returns to you, the colour of conkers—you can picture them sitting cozily among the branches of a dense forest, perfectly in place. “I need you to be calm,” she says firmly. “Can you do that for me?” Brow narrows in confusion, attention fading form your body as it’s directed to your older sister, posture lithe but firm. Sitting with the preternatural stillness of the fae, and something more… Something beyond what even…

You nod—as if your voice might break whatever she’s fallen into. Might cause a change in mind, your chance to comfort her lost. She stares for a moment longer, quiet and observing. An unwelcome itch builds beneath your knuckles, but you push it away, attention solely on your older sister. Her pupils seem to be the wrong size, as if you’re something far off in the distance that she’s struggling to focus on. Her posture relaxes, silently settling into the depth of her armchair, as if it might hold her together.

“Sleep has been difficult as of late,” she murmurs, eyes locked to yours and you find yourself unable to look away. She keeps herself still; poised; refined. Even in the undress of her lilac night robe, she’s collected, but there’s something off tonight. You nod in understanding—sleeping can be difficult. Especially after the war.

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” The question pulls from your lips before it’s fully formed in your mind. A faint smile sharpens her mouth—hairs prickling at the nape of your neck. Cocoa blinks, and the sharpness has faded, settling into the familiar gentle curve that makes Elain herself. “I’m perfectly fine,” she replies quietly, though her voice is strained. Eyes again run over you, weighing. Again you keep still, enduring the assessment.

Tongue peeks out to wet her lips, shadows flickering across her face as she shifts in her seat. “I’ve been trying some different tonics,” she admits quietly. “Chamomile, root ginger, valerian…they work fine, and I end up falling asleep swiftly.”

A dull wave of relief washes through your system, like a cool balm to desiccated skin. “I’m glad, ‘Lain,” you say softly, happy she’s found a remedy. But Elain shakes her head solemnly, shadows growing darker, weighing beneath her eyes. “It’s not…I’m not struggling with sleep,” she whispers, as if the walls are sitting in on the conversation. Eyes flit about, and your brows narrow. She’s being shifty. “Maybe we should have this conversation in your room,” she murmurs to herself, fingers massaging her temples.

“Elain…” you interject quietly, worry lacing your tone, “are you okay?” Eyes flick to you, heavy with gravity. “I told you, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” You press gently. Could she have been sold another kind of herb? “You don’t seem fine…” She waves her hand dismissively, as if physically able to bat the thought away. She exhales heavily, staring again into the fire. Deep into the flames, like she can see to the other side.

“Chamomile, valerian, send me to sleep fine. It’s just not—” She cuts off, searching for the word. “They don’t send me deep enough,” she murmurs, a slight tremor in her voice. “What do you mean?” You ask, shifting toward her in your seat. Eyes snap to you with the movement, brows curving in a look of…

Fear.

You pull back, comprehending. Lean forward, on the verge of standing to cross the room to be at her side again. Like you were for those initial months. “Elain, what’s wrong?” You repeat, anxious to assuage her anxiety however you can.

“They’re back,” she whispers hoarsely. Fingers tremble in her lap, lightly gripping the lilac of her skirts to calm herself. “It’s the same thing again and again,” she manages, staring at you from across the hearth. “I see you at the edge of a forest with the wolves, traveling with the fox, ending with the…” She shakes her head. Steadying her breathing. Calming her nerves.

“There’s a flash of light—light like starfall, except it itches. Itches and burns. And then he’s down, and bleeding, and—”

“Elain, slow down,” you interrupt, standing from your seat as you hurry to her side, fingers linking with her own to soothe the trembles. Crouch before her, clasping her hands in you own gloved ones. “I don’t understand,” you say, staring up at her. “What are you talking about?”

Cocoa drains, dark and haunted.

“They’re back,” she whispers. “The visions.”

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[paleprincessturtle]

hi! Hope you’re doing well! I was wondering if I could request a Harvey fic where Harvey gets jealous once reader gets some male attention. Harvey was always used to the reader falling at his feet, watching him with her doughy eyes, always finding an excuse to talk to him. But then he noticed her getting distant with him, almost not acknowledging his existence. Then he noticed flowers get delivered to her office, a guy coming by her office to take her out for lunch, etc. and poor little Harvey getting upset that she’s not at his mercy anymore lol & he confronts her about it :)

Happy New Year and I hope all of you people had a great holidays!

This one is for my friend @marjorie189! Thank you so much for the request and hopefully you like this.

Enjoy!!

Winner Takes It All

She walked briskly out of the elevator. Her bag was on her right shoulder while she tried to balance the two cups of coffee she carried and a few files she also carried at the crook of her arm. She made sure the one on her right hand was Harvey's coffee. Since Donna became COO, it wasn't unusual for her to see that Harvey had forgotten his coffee. Since then, she has made it her mission to bring Harvey his morning coffee. She was relieved to see the door to Harvey's office open. She invited herself in. "Hey, good morning," she said in a chirpy voice. "Morning," Harvey answered shortly. "I brought you coffee. Just how you like it," she hoped that Harvey would look up at her. But instead, his eyes were glued to the laptop in front of him. "Great, just put it here," Harvey signed with his head to the place around his desk. She shuffled around, trying to balance everything as she placed his coffee just beside his pen. "So, how was your morning?" She waited expectantly for Harvey to look up at her and probably finally realized the new dress she put on. Harvey finally looked up at her after a split second, but the expression on his face wasn't what she expected. There was annoyance in his face. "It was good and productive before you came in and decided that today would be a great day to just sit around and talk." She smiled curtly at his response. "Alright, I'll get back to work. Enjoy your coffee," she said as she waved at Harvey and walked out of his office.

She giggled to herself as she read the reports in the library. Harvey would like it, she thought. Scratch that; Harvey would love this. A huge help to his case. Even though she wasn't assigned to this case with him, she always secretly kept track of his cases. When she knew he was in trouble, she took extra time to help Harvey, aside from doing her own cases. She always ran to Harvey's office with her findings. "Harvey!" She barged into his office. Harvey's face was a mix of confusion and irritation. "I found this," she said, handing Harvey the papers she had photocopied earlier. "This is good," Harvey said, giving her a small smile as he nodded. She almost jumped in joy upon hearing that this would help Harvey. "Just good?" she teased. "I don't know, Harvey. I think this is brilliant!" Harvey sighed. "If you need praise and flowers, go to Louis. This is good, but get back to work. What are you doing anyway with my case?" Harvey questioned her. "I'm helping you, of course," she said as she giggled. "Thank you. Now, can you please go so I can call my client?" Harvey said as he picked up the telephone. "Bye, Harvey!" she said as she left his office, closing the door behind her.

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

It was just like any other morning. Every partner had a meeting before the day started to touch base on everyone's cases. Harvey was assigning some new cases to every other partner. It wasn't long before the meeting finished. She stayed longer than everyone else, as she saw Harvey also stay longer. She looked like she was about to leave but stopped at the end of the table. Stopped exactly beside Harvey. "Do you need help with that?" Harvey, who was flipping some documents in front of him, stopped and looked up at the woman smiling down at him. "Actually, yes." She nodded excitedly. "Can you deliver this to the DA office?" She doesn't even ask questions. "Consider it done," she said, bowed, and left the room.

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

For the past few days, Harvey didn't realize anything different until one morning he saw his newest and youngest partner. She just walked by his office. He remembered how, in the past few weeks, she never stopped by his office to deliver him his morning coffee. He stood up, trying to catch a glimpse of her. She brought with her a cup of coffee. A cup, as in a singular cup. Harvey's brows knitted, but he just shrugged and got back to whatever he was doing before.

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

"Hey," Harvey said, entering her office after knocking. "Hey, Harvey," she greeted him, eyes never leaving the paper in front of her. Harvey noticed the unnecessarily big flower arrangement on a credenza behind her. She caught him staring at her freshly delivered flowers. "Are you going to tell me why you're here, or are you just going to stare at my flowers?" Harvey straightened himself; he seemed caught red-handed. She watched him impatiently. "I was wondering if you could help me with the deposition tomorrow." She shook her head. "I'm taking the rest of the week off ," she informed the clueless Harvey. "In the middle of the week?" Harvey folded both his arms in front of him. "Yes, I've asked Donna since 1 week ago. I've taken care of everything." Harvey looked at her as if she had two heads. "Where are you going?" She laughed. Harvey smiled at the sound he hadn't heard in the past few weeks. "Why is it your business?" Harvey was about to answer when she interrupted him. "I'll get someone else to help you, okay? Don't worry. Now, if you excuse me, I think my client just entered the conference room." Harvey stood there, flabbergasted.

Harvey was talking with Donna as they waited for the elevator. Harvey heard a familiar laugh approaching, but the voice was accompanied by a deeper laugh. Harvey whipped his body around and tried to locate the laughter. There, she was laughing with a man Harvey had never seen before in his life. They approached closer, seemingly wanting to leave the building as well. "Hi!" she greeted Donna and Harvey. "Oh, where are you two going? A lunch date?" Donna teased them. "Maybe," the stranger answered as she smirked at Donna. Okay, Harvey thought. This person knew Donna. "We haven't had the pleasure of an introduction," Harvey straightened himself. "Jonathan Seymour," the man said, smiling and extending his hand for Harvey to shake. Harvey took a quick second to look at his hand and chose to ignore it. "Harvey Specter, but you must've seen my name before seeing me," Harvey signed to the wall behind them with the name of the firm etched. "I need to see you before you go home," Harvey pointed his eyes directly at her. Before everyone could say anything, Harvey stepped inside the full elevator, leaving the three of them.

"Harvey, I'm about to leave. You need to see me?" Harvey moved his head, and she got inside his office. "Since you will take the rest of the week off, I need your help with those files." Harvey pointed at some folders stacked upon one another. She wanted to say no, but she felt bad now that she was taking the rest of the week off. "Okay, sure," she smiled. "What should we do?" she asked as she took off the coat she just put on.

Harvey watched her work. The fact that this was just a little over midnight, the fact that now her hair was in a high bun, and the fact that she looked very beautiful as she pouted, concentrating on the task at hand. He missed this. He missed her presence. Her chirpy voice. Her smile. Her scent is one of amber and rose. "Are you going to tell me where you are going for the rest of the week?" Harvey started the conversation. "I'm going to accompany Jonathan. His cousin is getting married in Aspen. But he said he wanted to show me around," she smiled. "Are you happy?" Harvey asked abruptly. She was taken aback by his question. The man he had been trying to get close to for almost a year was now asking personal questions. "I'm happy, Harvey. Any reason why I shouldn't?" Instead of answering her question, he asked her another question. "So you can positively say that you are happy with this Jonathan?" She sighed. "Where is this going, Harvey?" She put her pen down, giving Harvey her full intention. Harvey was quiet for some time; she raised her eyebrows at him and demanded that he continue. As she saw Harvey struggle to find words, she picked her pen back up and got back to work. "I like you," he blurted after a full five minutes of silence enveloping the room. "You what?" she asked, her voice higher than usual. "I like you. I don't like seeing you with Jonathan. I like you, and I never realized it before." She looked at him, and confusion marked her face. "Don't go with Jonathan. Go with me. I want to show you how sorry I am for treating you badly for the past couple of months, and I want to show you how much you mean to me," Harvey said as he kneeled in front of her, hands intertwined. She looked down at their hands. "You have to win me over, Harvey." But everyone knew, Harvey always won.

MASTERLIST

[babyhatesreality]

What if maybe stucky had a day off for the first time in awhile and they planned on spending it w/ reader. She was really looking forward to it. But maybe one of the caregivers asked them to watch their little for the day last minute bc they were called away on a mission. Stucky accidentally ignores reader all day and just really hurts her feelings. Maybe they spoil the other little let them pick the movie and lunch etc. How would they make it up to reader?

-M

Hi M! First off, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH for being so patient. I'm so so sorry it has taken me so long to get to your amazing thoughts and questions. So let's dive in <3

What A Day

Pairing: Daddy!Stucky x little f!reader

Warnings: DDLG (SSC), f! reader, reader is named but name scarcely used, pet names, language, anxiety, very upset Peter (but not at reader), angst, misunderstanding, frustrations, scolding, threat of punishment, tears, fluffity fluff fluff fluff, everything gets worked out in the end because I always need a happy ending.

A/N- not my best writing style, I'm sorry, words are hard right now. But I love you all and want to try to get these requests out for you all, so I hope you like it anyways.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated. 

Today was the day! You were all set to spend the day together, just you and your daddies. You were so excited, you had been looking forward to it for the longest time. You all had tried to plan stuff before this, and something always came up. Every time. But not today! No way, not today!

Until it did.

Tony and Pepper received a very-last-minute summons to the White House to 'discuss some urgent matters' as Pepper put it or bail their asses out, as Tony put it. There was no way they could bring Peter, who was feeling extra little and clingy, so Steve, seeing their panic, volunteered to take him for the day, since you'd all planned on being at home anyways and the rest of the team were out on assignment.

You were a bit disappointed, but Petey was your best friend in the world, so this was going to be fun, right? Well......

When they dropped Peter off, he was definitely in a littler headspace than you had even seen him. He was crying hard in Steve's arms as Tony and Pepper left (both trying their hardest not to well up).

You tried to help, patting him on the leg and offering him Emma Bear or Pipsqueak to hold, but he didn't want either of them and tried to bat your hand away.

This shocked you a bit, but Bucky picked you up and whispered in your ear that Peter just needed a little extra attention right now. You nodded in understanding, and as soon as Bucky set you back down, you set off to your playroom, determined to find things to make him smile.

When you got back though- your arms full of toys and stuffies that you knew he'd like- you were a bit surprised to see both Steve and Bucky on the couch, side by side, comforting and holding Peter. You dropped your toys on the floor, wanting to come be a part of the cuddle party, but the noise scared Peter who started to cry again.

"Baby, you need to be more careful," Steve scolded very gently, knowing you hadn't done it on purpose. "I know you're trying to help, but Peter doesn't like loud noises right now. Please go put your toys back."

You started to protest that you had only picked out toys to be nice, but Bucky cut you off. "Go put 'em up, love, you heard Papa." It was a gentle tone, but you knew better than to try to argue.

Trying to be quiet, you carefully put them back slowly. But every time you came back to the room, you eyed your daddies meaningfully, hoping they'd ask you to be a part of the cuddle party, but they were so focused on keeping the little boy calm that they missed it entirely.

Once you were done, you quietly came over with Pipsqueak, holding him out to Peter, who took him, but turned his face back into Steve's chest. Feeling both frustrated and a little jealous, you said, "You s'posed to say 'tank you'." Peter just whined in reply.

This time, Steve looked at you sternly. "Baby, please don't upset Peter right now. He's feeling very little and needs quiet."

"But he didn't say tank you and you always say I gotta use my manners..."

Bucky picked you up before you caused Peter to start crying again, and started carrying you down the hallway to your playroom. "Listen up, angel, Peter is too young and upset to remember manners right now, and you're being loud when we've asked you to quiet down. Why don't you stay and play in here for a while until Peter is feeling better?" He set you down in the playroom and quickly shut the door before you had a chance to say anything.

You felt like you were being punished, even though you'd never get to stay in your playroom with all your toys when you were actually being punished. But you couldn't help but feel that way. Your daddies weren't spending any time with you now, and your bestie was treating you like you were mean, and it wasn't fair at all.

Bucky came to get you about an hour later for lunch. You were disappointed when you found that lunch was already made, because you loved it when you got to stir the mac and cheese. But when you were eating and Steve started telling Peter what a good job he'd done stirring, you got mad.

You shoved yourself off your chair and got exactly one step away before Bucky picked you up and plopped you back down. "You haven't been excused, little girl," he said a bit sharply, getting tired of your antics. You glowered as once again you were being asked to have manners when Peter didn't have to. Bucky made you sit there until all your lunch was eaten, which was well after Peter and Steve finished theirs and left to go watch a movie together.

You got even angrier when they picked a different movie than the one that you all were supposed to watch today, but you were still stuck in your dumb chair and couldn't do anything about it. Bucky had to threaten you with a time out and early bedtime before you finally finished eating. And once you did, he gave you a little talking-to about your attitude before taking your hand and bringing you over to the couch to watch the movie with them.

What you saw when you got there stopped you cold.

Steve had wrapped Peter up in your special yellow weighted blanket. Now, normally this wouldn't be a big deal, as you always wanted to share with your bestie, but this was YOUR special blanket for when you were feeling upset or overstimulated or needed comfort- and right now, you were definitely feeling all three.

"Dat's my special blanket," you said, pointing and mumbling. You didn't want to be loud or 'keep having an attitude', but this was just too much.

The look of disappointment in Steve's eyes hurt your heart. "Honey, we share in this house," he said, making you feel even worse. "You know that."

You couldn't stop the tears from overflowing at this point. "I alweady gave him my whole day!" you sobbed, before turning around and running to your room. You didn't slam your door- you'd only get in more trouble- but you pushed it mostly shut before diving into your stuffies, pulling Jellybean in close, and continuing to sob.

You heard a soft knock on your door a few moments later. "Baby, it's Daddy. May I come in please?" You only buried yourself deeper into your furry friends, afraid that Daddy was going to scold you again.

Bucky slowly opened the door, and his heart shattered at seeing you crying into all your stuffed animals. "I'm gonna come in, okay?" he added softly, stepping forward gently. If you really didn't want him in there, he would leave, but as you gave no indication one way or the other, he came in quietly and sat on the foot of your bed.

Once your tears and sobs slowed down, you risked a peek at Daddy in between Jellybean's soft fluffy ears. His face broke into a sad smile once he saw your red eyes. "Hey there, Trouble," he said gently. "Can Daddy hold you please?"

You didn't want another talking-to about your attitude, so you obediently pushed yourself up and crawled over to him. But when he pulled you onto his lap and cuddled you to his chest, like he did when he was comforting you, you suddenly realized that you weren't in trouble- that he really did want to just hold you. And the tears started all over again.

Bucky just held on, rocking you gently, rubbing your back, squeezing you tight when the tears turned into sobs, pressing soft kisses onto the top of your head. Once you cried yourself out, he plucked a tissue from the bedside table and held it to your face so you could blow. He mopped you up, still cuddling you all the while. "I'm really sorry you didn't get your day with us, Trouble," he said softly. "And I'm sorry that Papa and I were so focused on Peter and didn't see how upset you were. We weren't very nice to you today, were we?"

Sniffing mightily, you rubbed your nose with the back of your hand, resting your tired and aching head on Daddy's chest. "You was twying to help Petey. I sowwy I was bad and loud and mean," you mumbled.

"Baby, you were NOT bad or mean. You were loud, but that's just you- and we like you that way," Bucky said, finally grinning, which made you giggle. "I know that you were trying to help, and I'm sorry that I didn't have the patience to see that, and that we left you on your own today when we were trying to take care of Peter. So how about this? You and I can take some R&R together right now, just you and me, and then we can figure out everything else afterwards?"

Absolutely exhausted, you just nodded, falling asleep in Daddy's arms before he could even lay you down. And true to his word, he stayed with you for your whole nap, cuddling you and running his fingers through your hair.

After you all had naps, Peter was feeling much better, and the four of you played legos and dinosaurs in the living room until Tony and Pepper came home. It was a relief to Bucky and Steve, who had quietly worried that this was going to mess up Peter's and your friendship. But as always, after a good nap, things seemed brighter and you both were back to the giggling troublemakers you usually were, playing happily and noisily until Peter went home.

After you all had eaten supper, Papa cuddled you on his lap, apologizing too, and the three of you had a really good talk (with you still in younger space) about all of you feeling jealously, frustrations, and angry feelings, and being safe to calmly tell each other. They also helped work out some hand signals for you in case you went non-verbal or couldn't find the right words to tell them how you were feeling. You felt like a much happier baby after new ways to help you express yourself, and gleefully accepted Papa's cuddles all night (since Daddy had gotten them all to himself during nap time, he argued it was his turn).

The next day, Fury had blocked every single message to your daddies as well as access to your floor (barring emergency protocols, but ya know) making sure that you all truly had the whole day to yourselves. Daddy made your favorite cinnamon and sugar french toast for breakfast, which he fed to you bite by bite while you wiggled with energy.

The three of you went to your favorite quiet park out of the city, where you joyfully screamed down the slide, scrambled up the net ladder, giggled rocking back and forth on the bouncy animals, and had a contest with your daddies to see who could swing you the highest. THAT was the best.

You had a picnic lunch and had a blast bouncing back and forth between your daddies, insisting on feeding them blueberries one at a time. For some reason, that absolutely tickled you to no end, and you ended up laughing your head off the entire time. You fell asleep in your seat on the way home, and woke up in your bed. You found your daddies and the three of you drew pictures and colored together, then made a blanket fort in the living room for later.

Papa let you help him make dinner, and while it wasn't stirring- mac-and-cheese, it was still really fun. And then they both surprised you with being able to make a batch of your favorites- chocolate chip cookies! Right after the cookies cooled just enough, you FINALLY got to watch your movie, snuggled in between the two of them in your blanket fort, munching on the delicious treats.

Papa gave you a bath, letting you pick out both bubbles and a bath bomb, and Daddy put on your lotion and helped you pick out jammies and your nighttime books. You fell asleep in the crook of Bucky's arm, safe and warm, the three of you now more bonded than ever.

[atticrissfinch]

Series: The Rogue Who Coaxed You | (joel miller x fem!reader) (18+)

Part 3: The Lunch

pairing: boss!joel miller x fem!secretary!reader summary: joel, in a rare showing of generosity, takes you to lunch. by the end of the day, he's put you back in your place again. warnings/tags:  [18+ MINORS DNI] mean!joel, joel respects you approximately 0%, age gap (no specifics), infidelity, bootlicking but make it business casual, face-stepping, shoe-riding, power imbalance/dynamics, daddy!kink, hella degradation and humiliation kink [use of slut, whore, etc], facial, nudes, alcohol, mild sexual harassment from someone other than joel, and reader has hair. extra disclaimer:  I want to note that some aspects of joel's character in this series could be considered borderline abusive in certain lights, and while that is not my intent for this series and reader is aroused by his treatment of her, please keep that in mind if this is one of your triggers ♥️ Another reminder that infidelity is very prevalent in this series and is used as a kink. So if that bothers you, you may want to skip this one ♥️ word count: ~6.4K | ao3 a/n: this one is a bit longer, we got a lot of stuff in here!! i wanted to explore some new kinks that I haven't really seen in the fandom. hope you guys like them 😵‍💫 Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Kofi

“Grab your coat. You’re comin’ to lunch with me.”

You do an honest-to-god double-take at the painfully handsome, well-kept Joel looming over your desk with an unreadable expression. You can’t remember the last time Joel asked you to lunch. It’s unmistakably been months since he even suggested it. 

You blink. “Wait, really?”

“Really. C’mon,” He dictates, pushing off from your desk and already heading for the elevator.

You quickly lock your computer and grab your coat and purse, hurrying after him. He does have the decency to hold the doors open for you, and you slip inside. 

Once the doors are securely closed, you tilt your head toward him. “Why the generosity? Not very characteristic of you when it comes to me.”

He flicks his eyes over to you momentarily before staring at the doors again. “Important supplier. Want to bring somethin’ pretty for him to look at. And you fulfill that requirement.”

“How flattering,” You comment. “Well, thank you anyway.”

He gives a small nod. “Just behave yourself, please.”

“I’m not stupid.”

You note a smile threatening his lips, like he’s dying to counter that, but he leaves it there. 

When Douglas drops you off at the restaurant, Joel leads you through with a soft hand on the small of your back. It feels intimate, almost possessive, and it has your skin buzzing under your clothes. 

“How’s it going, Miller?” A short, balding, unfortunate-looking man in a tailored suit stands as you approach a table near the back of the establishment. 

“Not too shabby, Gary,” Joel replies, gripping the other man’s hand in a firm shake. Joel introduces you as his secretary first, and by name second. 

Gary gives your hand a much more delicate shake, punctuated by a brief kiss to the back of it. “Nice to meet you, sweetheart. Gotta get me one like you,” He chuckles with a wink, and something squirmy in your stomach starts to wriggle at the condescending pet name coming from…anyone but Joel. But he swiftly gestures to the table. “Please, sit, sit.”

As Joel rounds the table with you and—surprisingly—pulls your seat out for you, Joel dips down to whisper in your ear, “You smile and be grateful through whatever he says. Just shut up and take it. Know how well you do that.”

Your cheeks warm at the statement, and you nod. 

A stunning, voluptuous young woman introduces herself as your server, her wavy brown curls framing her face and her tits waging war against the still-fastened buttons of her crisp white blouse, the top three undone and revealing her impressive cleavage. 

It’s impossible to ignore the way Gary sizes her up as she speaks. She doesn’t grant him much attention, but Joel certainly catches her eye. If you didn’t know him so well, you might not be able to see past his passively respectful demeanor toward her. But you do, and you can, and your stomach continues to churn in displeasure. Jealousy. 

When she returns to the table with drinks, Gary ostentatiously peers down the front of her shirt as she places them in front of each of you. You swear you see her wink at Joel when she sets down his whiskey. 

For the majority of the lunch, Joel and Gary prattle on about shit you don’t care about. Golf, business, shipping costs. You sit quietly, sipping at your water and occupying yourself with your meal when it’s served. 

“So where’d you find this piece?” Gary asks into his scotch, indicating toward you with a pudgy finger, a titanium wedding band very clearly adorning it. 

“Just got lucky, I guess,” Joel shrugs, draping an arm over the back of your seat as he takes a sip of his own drink. “Poor thing was stuck workin’ fast food when we hired her on.”

Gary’s eyebrows shoot up. “Goddamn. I’m sure those good looks were wasted being shoved into some hideous uniform. Business casual looks fine as hell on you, sweetheart,” Gary leers, boasting his compliments like he’s doing you a favor. 

When you only smile politely, Joel softly taps your arm next to his draped hand. “Thank you very much, sir,” You respond, struggling to keep eye contact with the imposing man. 

“Don’t be so bashful, beautiful. Be proud of those looks. Get you real far in the, uh, right hands,” Gary laughs at his own innuendo. 

You hum affirmatively with a forced smile, swirling the ice in your water with your straw. 

The server saves you from any further comment, approaching at just the right time. “Looks like we all enjoyed our meals. May I ask how we’ll be splitting the check today?”

Gary gives Joel a questioning look, and you look to Joel as well when he hesitates a moment. 

“I can pay for myself,” You insist, turning back to the waitress. “It’s not a problem.”

“Bullshit you’re paying for yourself, sweetheart,” Gary booms out, waving off the comment. “I know he isn’t that stingy. You wouldn’t leave your girl out to dry, would you, Miller?”

Joel gives an infinitesimal shake of his head, cheating up at Gary from underneath his lashes. “Ain’t my girl,” He quips, flicking the shed paper of a straw away from him. 

“I mean, she is your secretary, isn’t she?” Gary insists. “Might as well be your girl.”

“I can come back,” The waitress interrupts in offering, jabbing her thumb over her shoulder, her tits wobbling with the gesture. 

“No need,” Joel announces, wagging an upright finger in a circle, indicating to the group of you, and setting his jaw as he stares down his lunch guest. “I got the whole table.”

When Gary nods approvingly, Joel cocks his head toward the server and gives her a broad, warm smile. You easily clock the look on the waitress’s face, the gentle biting of her lip as she nods with a, “Yes, sir.”

And you definitely don’t miss the glint in Joel’s eye, the parting of his lips, the swipe of his tongue, as if he’s noticing the beauty of the waitress for the first time this afternoon. 

You practically roll your eyes when she glances quickly over her shoulder at him as she walks away. 

It makes your cheeks burn. 

The pinky of Joel’s lax hand glides subtly back and forth across the bare skin of your arm for a moment as he works his wallet out of his back pocket with the other. The tiny gestures today have your hopes almost rising like they haven’t in a while. Maybe he’s softening to you? 

In your heart of hearts, you know better than that. But you bask in the fuzzy glow of it all the same. You are what you are to him, and while you do love the way he gets with you, he always leaves you a little starved for something more. Something he can’t, won’t, give you.  

The waitress returns with a flashy smile and bends at the waist to set down the check presenter across your space and in front of Joel. 

“Thank you, darlin’,” Joel nods in appreciation, rummaging into his wallet for his black card. 

Darlin’.

Ok, nevermind. He’s definitely trying to piss you off. He has to be. He doesn’t call anyone else that. Not even his wife, from what you’ve heard. That’s one thing you have that she doesn’t. And your teeth clench at him giving it to her like it’s some trite, blasé endearment, and not a name that burns hot in your core when spilling from his lips. One he bestows upon you in his gentler moments, when it means the most. The rare ones. 

The idea of that word not being special, not belonging to you…you have to blink away the tears. 

“Is there anything else I can get for you, sir?” She asks, clearly addressing Joel specifically as she patiently awaits him slotting his card into the book. 

Joel gives her a quick once-over and mutters with a smirk, “I’ll let you know.”

You’re not sure what comes over you, but you feel your hand surreptitiously reaching over to grip strongly just above Joel’s knee. He doesn’t startle in the slightest. As he hands the book back to the waitress, his other hand falls from the back of your chair to wrap tightly around your wrist. Your fingers loosen immediately as his own tense around you a single, threatening time before dropping it and setting you free. Your hand returns dejectedly into your lap, eyes fixed on your picked-over plate. 

The waitress returns the presenter with a flirty smile, thanks you for joining them for lunch, and saunters off.

Joel doesn’t do much to conceal the phone number and the loopy “Brianna” scribbled on the customer copy of the receipt in pink, flouncy penmanship with a little heart dotting the “i”. 

And you tell yourself the only reason he slips it in his pocket is for business expense reasons. Nothing else. 

As you all get up from the table, Gary initiates another solid handshake with Joel and a sportsmanlike pat on his shoulder. When his attention turns back to you, he points a finger at Joel and says, “If this fucker doesn’t appreciate what you got to offer, give me a call, sweetheart. I’ll make real good use of you.”

The second Gary steps into his car, you can’t hold back from admitting, “I think I hate that guy.”

Joel smirks, securing his hand at your lower back again and leading you to where Douglas is idling at the curb. “Only ‘cause he ain’t as handsome as me. ‘F he was, you’d be suckin’ the juice from his steak right off his goddamn fingers with him talkin’ to you like that.”

“Fuck off,” You mutter, sliding into the back seat with that frustration and disappointment still simmering below the surface. 

He settles in next to you, and as Douglas shuts the door after him, Joel curls a hand around your neck, and you feel yourself go almost limp, like a kitten grabbed by its scruff. Your sour mood dwindles as his coarse fingertips dance across your throat. “Bet you’d bend over in no time flat for a man like him. Showerin’ you with those compliments.”

He nuzzles at your jaw, biting a kiss into it as your eyes flutter closed with a sigh. 

“But I know real goddamn well that he wouldn’t get you wet like I do. He don’t know how hard you get off on me treatin’ you like gum on the bottom of my shoe. Ain’t that right, baby?”

You swallow, your skin prickling at his breath over you. “I think it wouldn’t kill you to be a little nicer to me.”

“You want me to be nicer to you?” He asks, his hand slipping between your legs and teasing up your skirt slowly. “Because I don’t think you do. Nor do I think you deserve it.”

You squeeze your eyelids shut tighter as the tips of his fingers graze the gusset of your thong, pausing there. And honestly, when his hands are on you, his mouth, you know he’s right. The way he treats you…it’s special in its own way. Your own mutually assured destruction in hell, your own morally corrupt paradise captured in stolen moments. She doesn’t have that. She’ll never get this side of him. That’s why he keeps you at his heels in the first place. 

“Ok, maybe I don’t want that,” You concede in a hitched whisper. 

“I know you don’t,” He purrs, and you feel the words dripping down your spine. “Fuckin’ easy little whore.”

Your head drops back against the back of the seat as Joel strokes you once, twice through your panties, and then pulls away entirely. You whimper, your head lulling around to him as he unabashedly lifts his hips to adjust the large bulge in his slacks and sits back against his seat. 

“Daddy, please,” You beg under your breath. 

“Shut up,” He orders, pulling his phone out of his pocket, the “Brianna” receipt falling out with it. He glances down at it for a brief moment, then places it on his thigh to smooth it out. 

“Joel…” You whisper, a little crestfallen, your brows knitting together. 

“Go sit on the other side of the car if it bothers you,” He commands, glancing up from his phone with no argument in his eyes. 

You shouldn’t care. You know you shouldn’t. But it feels like a betrayal, and it has that dulled simmer ratcheting up again. You sluggishly slide to the far seat, resting your chin in your palm on the car door armrest, stealing looks back at Joel as his eyes float from his phone to the receipt as he types. 

“We’ve arrived, Mr. Miller,” Douglas announces, exiting the car to get Joel’s door.

Joel’s chest swells and falls with one large breath, stowing his phone in his pocket and crumpling the receipt into his hand. “Stop poutin’,” Joel scolds in your direction with a jab of his finger as his door swings open. “You’re a grown woman. And you know exactly what this is,” He gestures between the two of you. 

You ache to tell him to go fuck himself. Your anxiety clenches at your insides that you’ll lose what you have of him if you do. The pleasure of his cock dragging inside of you when he deems you deserving. The affection you earn with the scrape of your fingernails against his flesh, gentle enough to fade before he gets home, but harsh enough to feel it buzz deliciously down your nail beds. 

You’re not willing to risk that. To bear what that vacancy would mean. So you swallow your words in favor of the opportunity to savor another piece of him for as long as he allows. 

He steps out of the car, smoothing out his suit and fastening the buttons of his coat. “Thanks, Douglas,” He nods at him in appreciation. “I’ll be a little later tonight. I’ll text you.”

“Just let me know. I’ll be here,” Douglas affirms, shoving the door closed and leaving you in relative silence. 

You can hear their muffled voices, Douglas saying something like “Claire…home…four…” and Joel nodding in understanding, squeezing his shoulder with what sounds like, “Good man, Douglas,” before you see him head into the high-rise, tossing the scrunched up receipt in the garbage receptacle by the front door. 

In a matter of seconds, there’s a tap on the window by your head, and you jump, whipping around to see Douglas giving you a small wave with two fingers. You pull off the armrest so he can open your door for you. 

“Thanks,” You mutter as you take his hand to help you out of the car. “Does, uh,” You begin when you’re safely on your feet and the door is closing, “does any of this bother you?” You ask, your eyes flitting to the door Joel just disappeared through, then meeting Douglas’s with a small gesture toward yourself in explanation. 

“Not my job to be bothered, Miss. He doesn’t pay me for that.”

“Pays for your discretion though, doesn’t he,” You mumble, running your hands down your skirt in vain due to the wrinkles from Joel’s hand weaseling its way up it mere minutes ago. 

“He pays me well enough that it’s none of my business,” He confirms, heading back to the driver’s seat. “Have a nice day, Miss.”

—

After lunch today, you’re ready to just race out the door as soon as the day is over. And you fully intend on doing so, your coat and purse already on your person when the time ticks to 5 o’clock on your computer. Just as you’re logging off, a chat message pops up on your screen. 

Joel Miller [5:00 PM]: My office please

You could ignore it. Leave right now and then claim you didn’t see it before you left. But, fuck, he hasn’t given you anything else today. Only the tantalizing stroke of his fingers under your skirt in the car for a few fleeting moments. And you’re thirsting for it, for his attention. Any attention. 

You let your things slump to the floor and head for his office as the rest of the staff file for the elevators and stairs. 

Joel is leaning against the front of his desk, glancing down at his phone in one hand, and nursing a glass of amber liquid in the other—5 o’clock somewhere, indeed. When you close the door behind you, he sets the phone down to watch you pull the blinds. 

“So good at comin’ when I call,” He praises, his eyes heated as they take you in. “No big plans tonight?”

“Just one big plan,” Your voice lilts, your gaze falling to his crotch in explanation. 

Joel breathes out a laugh, taking a drink. “That so?”

“Hope so,” You banter back, stepping closer to him. 

“I dunno,” Joel sings, looking you up and down. “I don’t love how you grabbed my leg at the restaurant earlier.”

You stop your advances, raising an eyebrow at him. 

He frees his hands to cross over his chest, the veins of his forearms protruding at the motion, drawing your eye with the intensity of a feast to a man starved.

“Actin’ like you own me. Like I belong to you. When I sure as hell don’t.”

The words hit harder than you want them to, but you’ve been fighting that all day. You fold your own arms across your chest, shuffling your feet. “I know you don’t.”

“Do you? Seems like you forgot.”

“I didn’t.”

“Then tell me who I do belong to.”

You look up at him, bitterness in your features. “Her,” You vocalize with a hint of resentment. 

“Say her goddamn name.”

You chew the inside of your cheek, staring down at the carpet. “Claire.”

When your eyes meet again, he nods, his tongue running over his teeth behind his lips. It’s silent for a beat until he speaks again. 

“Get on the floor.”

You’re used to this, practically second nature to you as you drop to your knees hastily, looking up at him with expectant doe eyes. 

But he shifts his jaw and says, “Did I say get on your knees?”

“You said…”

“I said get on the floor. So get on the goddamn floor.”

A little lost, you assess his reaction as you fall forward on your hands, situating yourself on all fours. 

Joel scoffs, his arms flexing with the shaking of his head. “All the way. On. The goddamn. Floor.”

You can’t mask the confusion on your face as you flop down onto your forearms and drop your hips to the carpet, prone on the ground and feeling pathetic. 

“That’s better,” Joel affirms, lifting his glass and taking a sip as he stares down at you. 

From this angle looking up, your line of sight is a straight shot for his tenting pants. A reminder that he does want you. That he’s turned on by you, or some element of you. As perplexed as you are with your current position, whatever he wants from you tonight, the thought of it has him straining at his slacks already. And it’s a point of pride that you can do it for him. 

“Joel, why am I—”

“My shoes.”

You squint slightly, studying the spotless black oxfords on his feet. “What about them?”

“Looks like they need a little love, don’t they?”

You scrunch your brows together, craning your neck to look up at him. “They’re…they’re pristine, Joel. They’re always pristine.”

And they are. He has them shined every morning, sometimes does it himself midday. You can see your reflection in them as you lie on the ground like a worm at his feet. 

The corners of Joel’s mouth tip downward and he bows his head as he peers down at you. “I think they could use a little spit shine, don’t you?”

You feel a cooling shiver down your spine, his implied order finally dawning on you. “Oh.”

He nods at his shoes. “Go on. My patience is wearin’ thin, and you sure could use some goddamn humility.”

So that’s what he wants out of you. Humility. 

He wants your pride served to him on a silver platter, presented to him like one of those poor saps serving hors d'oeuvres at his snooty parties. Wants to consume it for himself, as if his ego could expand past where it already screams and stretches across his broad chest like his fitted dress shirt. 

To be truthful, he already owns your pride. You’d think it would be proof enough that you’re on your stomach on the grimy carpet of his office at his command. But if he wants more of it, all of it, it’s his. He can have it. 

You tentatively pull yourself closer toward him on your elbows, like a limp army crawl, eyes locked on his. You’re not sure why you expected him not to track the movement of your humiliating squirming, but there’s not a shadow of a doubt that he’s reveling in it. There’s a firmness in his jaw, a smugness in his lips, a fierceness in his eyes. The hunger coursing through him, the bulging in his slacks, has both shame and the remnants of your respectability burning out across your skin as you skid along the itchy, speckled carpet. Like it’s trying to escape, trying to crawl to him on its own. 

As you come face to face with the shining shoes, you hesitate, unsure if he actually wants you to spit on them. 

“Put those pretty lips to good use, sweetheart,” He coos at you. 

And even though this is new territory for you, something you’ve never even considered before, it simultaneously, bizarrely, almost feels like you belong here. At his feet. An order to kiss them, worship them like you do his body. 

You take a deep breath and pucker your lips, lowering them until they hit leather. You kiss them chastely, then gauge his reaction. 

“Little more,” He encourages, his forearms contracting deliciously, begging you to sink your teeth into his flesh as you plead him to feed you his cock harderfasterdeeperfuckplease. 

You part your lips this time as you descend, placing a wetter kiss to his left shoe. 

“Don’t be shy, sweetheart,” He rumbles, his voice going raspier as his fingers glide over the buckle of his belt, unfastening it deftly along with his pants. “Really make ‘em shine for daddy.”

You ignore the heat rising in your cheeks as your kisses go wetter, sloppier on the leather. You can see the black glistening more with your saliva each time your mouth descends on the material. You flood your mind with images of Joel like it’s his mouth, or something filthier, that you’re devouring. 

“There we go, baby. Nice and sloppy, just like that,” He grits out, seeing movement out of the edge of your vision that confirms that he is stroking himself to the sight of you. “Damn, such a pathetic little bitch, aren’t you?”

You hum against his shoe, your hand wrapping around his opposite ankle for a little leverage as your mouth’s actions increase in passion, but he swiftly jerks out of your grip and balances on his one foot for a moment. 

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me. I didn’t say you could touch me,” He barks out with a sharp edge. 

You gaze up at him with messy, plumped lips, spit coating the lower half of your face. “I’m sorry, daddy.”

“Yeah, you are,” He grunts out, his hand frozen at the base of his cock, but still tightening around it. The toe of his lifted shoe drifts over to your head, the sole meeting the top of it and forcing you down until your dampened cheek is pressed against the carpet, held down by his shoe pressuring at your temple.

The tip of his toe slips down to the plush of your cheek, until the flat of his sole descends on it, squishing the flesh against your teeth and further indenting the low pile of the carpet into your other cheek. Your skull begins to register the squeezing pressure in a way that has your cunt throbbing with disgrace and mortification. 

But god, it feels so fucking right. 

Joel rotates his foot in tight circles, your cheek sliding against your clenched teeth with the motion. Joel’s stilled hand picks up again in the corner of your eye, pumping the full length of himself as he steps on your face. “Jesus, you don’t even have a shred of dignity left, do ya?” He chuckles cruelly. 

You whimper mutedly and shake your head with the minimal amount of give his foot grants you. 

“And that’s just how I like ya,” He rumbles, flexing the toe of his shoe in brief bursts, rhythmically intensifying the pressure on your cheekbones and spurring on a stinging wetness in your eyes at your lingering embarrassment. “Say ‘thank you, daddy, for stripping me of my dignity.’”

You let out a pathetic dry sob, and recite through your forced-pouted lips, “Thank you for s-stripping me of my dignity, daddy.”

Joel exhales a sneer through his nose and pushes off your head with one final punishing punch of pressure muttering, “Worthless cunt.”

The insult, the fresh memory of his foot on your face, has your pussy dripping in desire. You’ve never even dreamed of this level of humiliation, let alone loving it. But he’s here, supplying you with this opportunity—privilege—to be crushed under him like a bug. And you’re luxuriating in it. You want more of it, but dare not ask. This isn’t about you or your pleasure. It’s about power. And you want him to choke you with it. 

“Get up. On your knees,” He orders, his hand working quicker over his cock now. You’re on your knees in seconds, up close and personal with the flushed head of his dick. “Guess who I’ve been textin’ all day?” He baits, his hand jerking his length hastily. 

“W-who?” 

A smug smile creeps across his face. “That slutty piece of ass servin’ us at lunch today. She’s a real nasty thing,” He brags, pausing to spit into his hand and twist at the head of his cock. “Sent me a picture of those fat tits the second I hit her up.”

The mention of Brianna has your jaw tensing, but you remain silent. 

Joel reaches back for his phone, and you watch as his thumb scrolls on the screen. “Fuck, that’s a nice pair. Bet she’d send me her cunt too if I asked right now. Shit, I wanna bust my load all over those tits,” He grunts as his hand slaps against his skin. 

A noise makes its way from the back of your throat at his deliberate power move, and you fail to stop yourself from piping up. 

“Daddy,” You protest pleadingly, “Look at me.” 

Joel barely concedes, holding his phone out a little further, eyes darting between the screen and your face as they go hooded. Joel’s sounds grow breathy and heavy as he divides his attention between the pictures before him—one fake, one very real—until he groans his release, thick ropes of come hitting your face and your hair. He pulls at his cock as his orgasm ebbs, until he’s wrung himself dry over your skin. 

“Fuck. Needed that,” He murmurs, discarding his phone and returning his cock into his boxers. 

You’ve come to expect a lot in the way of Joel’s callousness, but your insecurities start to get the better of you as the reality of what he just did sets in. In some convoluted way, it would have hurt you less if he was staring at his wife’s tits, rather than some random stranger’s. You know Claire. She’s familiar territory. But him getting off to some bitch who winked at him at lunch? Some nobody? When you’re right there in front of him, practically begging to be used?

“That was fucking mean,” You dare to condemn him, gritting your teeth with the evidence of his release still dripping down your face. 

“Aww, did you not like that?” He mocks with a little condescending pout as he zips his pants. 

“I have tits you could’ve come on,” You argue back.

“Yeah?” He asks, buckling his belt with practiced fingers. “You wanna try and take a better photo for me, baby?”

At the chance to prove yourself, you nod up at him eagerly. 

“Unbutton that blouse then,” Joel instructs, picking up his phone again and aiming it down at you. “Show me those beautiful tits.”

Your fingers move quickly, fumbling to slip the buttons through the holes. You pull your arms free until the shirt dangles from where it’s tucked into the hem of your skirt, and reach back to unclasp your bra. 

“Mmm,” Joel rumbles as your tits are revealed to him, extending a hand to massage one of them with a broad hand. “Don’t get to see these enough. Always too goddamn eager to stuff your holes.”

“Worthy of a picture?” You ask with pleading eyes, cupping both of them in your hands as Joel’s retracts. 

“They’ll do. I think it’s my come on your face that really sends it over.” Joel focuses on his screen for a moment, angling until he’s satisfied, and then hitting the shutter. “There we go. That’s real fuckin’ slutty.”

He turns the phone for you to see, and your eyes go wide. You look absolutely trashed. Thick streaks of pearly white coat your cheeks, nose, forehead, and lips. Under Joel’s come, you can see light smatterings of dirt on one cheek from his shoe, and slight impressions of the carpet on the other. Your eyes are watery and tinged with red, your lips similarly wet and puffy. You barely even register that your tits are in the picture, and you’d wager that’s exactly how Joel intended it. 

It becomes obvious to you then that the photo wasn’t about appreciating your tits. It was about immortalizing the humiliation he’s foisted upon you. 

And all you can really think is, Take that, Little Miss Brianna. 

“That’s definitely a good one. That’s goin’ in my private collection for sure.”

You feel a swelling of pride in your chest, a smile teasing at your lips. Riding on that sliver of praise, you ask with all the humility you can muster, “Daddy? May I please get off with your come on my face?”

Joel tosses his phone onto his desk and swipes up some of his semen from your cheek, pressing it into your mouth. You open for him willingly, sucking it off with enthusiasm. He stares down at you, studying you as he considers your request. 

“You think you earned it?”

You nod, still suckling on his thumb despite all traces of him being long gone. 

“Alright. You can get off,” Joel starts, pulling his finger from your mouth and dragging your lower lip down until it snaps back into place, “If you can get there by riding my shoe.”

You let out a small whine at the prospect. Something else you’ve never even fathomed you’d do, something you probably couldn’t have thought up if left to your own devices for ages. But all at once it feels like a need. “Okay.”

You shimmy your underwear down your hips, flinging them off once you’ve freed them from your legs. As you hitch your skirt and start to lower down, Joel interrupts. 

“Not so fast. Take everything off. Let me see what’s mine.”

You have to jerk yourself out of the momentary haze, the euphoric thrumming through your brain and your body at him calling you his. And then you’re naked below him—completely stripped bare for him in nothing but your strappy heels as he stands fully clothed in his luxury suit, hardly a hair out of place. It makes you feel like a plaything, like a pet. But also like a piece of art for him to admire. Priceless and worthless to him in the same instance. Priceless in that you are worthless. You cost him nothing, and it almost makes you feel powerful. 

Almost. 

Then you’re lowering yourself onto one of those shining oxfords, and your throbbing cunt is pulsing out silent thank yous for the friction. 

“Daddy,” You moan out, rolling your hips to glide the wet, desperate folds of your pussy across the toe of his shoe. Tentative hands wrap around his thigh, gripping harder when he doesn’t protest and using your hold to anchor the rocking of your hips.

“Goddamn, baby,” Joel marvels at you, eyes going a little brighter as you debase yourself further. “Spent over a thousand bucks on these shoes and I’m lettin’ you rub your sloppy cunt all over ‘em. I deserve another ‘thank you’.”

“Thank you, daddy,” You voice effortlessly, thoughtlessly as you stimulate your clit on the slick leather. You feel the tip of his toe raise slightly on your downward grinds, pressing harder against that sensitive nub that’s been beating like a fucking metronome ever since he touched you in the car. 

“That shoe feel as nice on your cunt as it did on your face, baby?”

“Yes, daddy! Please!” You beg, not entirely sure for what, throwing your head back and riding him like you would his cock on a more normal day. 

Your hips undulate, the pointed toe clipping against your clit each time you’ve run out of shoe to grind against, then again when you glide back on. As his shoe widens further down, it spreads your lips along with it, sliding along your folds with heat from his foot within. 

“God, such a desperate little whore. Could pay your fuckin’ rent with this shoe, and instead I’m just lettin’ you use it to rut against like a braindead bitch.”

You just moan, feeling your release burgeoning in your lower stomach as you ride him. “Fuck, daddy, may I please come?” You whine, feeling yourself cresting, waiting on Joel’s go-ahead. 

He keeps you at your peak as he ponders, finally exhaling, “I guess. Hump it ‘til you come real pretty for me, baby.”

With his approval, pleasure floods your system, flows under your skin, and all you can think is how grateful you are to him for giving you this. His full attention, his permission to come, his shoe for your stimulation. You’ll take whatever you can get from him, and this is enough. 

Your forehead crashes against his thigh as you come down, but you’re immediately shoved back by Joel’s hand. “Keep that shit off my pants. I don’t need any questions from Claire.”

Dazedly, you nod, slurring out an apology. 

Joel yanks his shoe out from under you, crossing it over his opposite thigh to inspect it. “Fuckin’ disgusting.” He drops it back to the floor and threads his fingers into your hair at the scalp, and shoves your head downward as he spits out, “Clean up your fuckin’ mess.”

You fall forward on the carpet, ass in the air and face level with your translucent slick on the smooth black. You don’t even think, you just obey, mouthing enthusiastically at the damage you’ve done. You savor your own taste off the sweet earthiness of the leather, alternating between sucking and tonguing at his shoe, shamelessly extending the show for him a little longer. 

Joel finishes off his drink as he enjoys the view, reclining against the edge of his desk as you work. “You’re so much sexier when you just shut the fuck up and do as I say. So fuckin’ whiny and mouthy all the goddamn time.”

You peer up at him as you continue to clean the leather, highlighting your silent obedience to him. But the silence is cut short by a loud vibration against the desk. Joel snatches up his phone and holds a solitary finger to his lips as he glances down at you and answers. 

“Hey, beautiful…yeah, I got caught up with something last minute, but I’ll be home soon.” Joel circulates the toe of his shoe beneath your lips as he talks, encouraging you to keep going, and you do. 

“The herb chicken is fine, but please remind Beth to nix that creamed spinach atrocity she served with it last time. I could give two shits if it’s good for me, I’m not chokin’ that down again.”

You hear a tinny, muffled response, and then Joel sighs out with a feigned, smiling annoyance, "Alright, sorry, I couldn't give two shits. Miss Grammar Queen," He teases lightheartedly.

You try to tune him out, do what he asked you to do, but your ears have other ideas. The ease with which he talks to her just makes you redouble your efforts, battling for his attention again. 

“Well, I just figured you would be my dessert,” He purrs over the line, followed by a sultry, flirtatious laugh. “But I’ll happily have my cake and eat it too, baby.”

Your attempts to smooth your scowl feel endless as you try to concentrate on your task at hand and filter out his bullshit. Your chest lightens a bit when he finally bids her an innuendo-laced goodbye and slides his phone into his pocket.

“That’s good enough,” He says gruffly, gently pushing you off of him with the tip in your mouth. You detach with saliva dripping over your chin and his shoe, positive that you look nothing less than thoroughly destroyed. 

You settle upright with your bare ass seated on the backs of your calves, allowing your eyes to roam over him as he stretches his neck from side to side, straightening his tie and centering his fastened belt. 

Joel stretches over his desk and tosses a box of tissues on the floor. “Clean yourself up before you leave.”

He busies himself compiling what he needs for the night, and you wipe at your face as best you can. As he hoists his laptop bag onto his shoulder and rounds the desk, you pluck up your courage. 

“Are you gonna fuck that girl? That server?”

Joel looks almost taken aback that you asked. He stands still for a moment, staring at the door before his eyes land on your poised, naked form on your knees. “Would it hurt your feelings if I did?”

He seems earnest in his question, so you’re earnest in your response. “Yes.”

Joel nods, then crouches down to your eye level, tucking a crooked finger under your wiped-clean chin. His eyes search yours, and you’re not sure what he’s looking for. But when he’s convinced he has every glimmer of your attention, he whispers before he presses an innocent kiss to your lips, “Well, then, darlin'. I might just have to stop and fill her up on my way home.”

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[damiansgoodgirll]

can you please do an story about Damian and Reader where her "friends" forgot her BDay and Damian is the only one who recognize something was wrong and she's telling him that's her BDay and he makes it an unforgettable weekend and later confess to her?!

damian priest x reader

bday party

realising that it was your birthday and none of your friends wished you an happy birthday or asked you if you were doing something for that day actually hurt you.

you’ve been there for every one of your friends, for their birthdays, their weddings, whatever party they wanted to do. you’ve always been there but no one was there for you on your own special day.

being in an other city, away from your family, hurt you more. they were the only one to remember your birthday but the fact that they weren’t with you left you with a sense of sadness washing over you.

you hoped that maybe your gym friends remembered since you talked about it for the past week but once you hit the gym everyone greeted you normally, like nothing changed.

the only person to notice your humor was damian, you’ve met him when you started going at the same gym but everytime you talked it was mostly small talks. some about your personal lives and some about your jobs, a part of that, you weren’t that much friends. you were texting over instagram sometimes but not about anything in particular.

you’ve always found him attractive and truth be told you loved watching him in the gym but you knew you weren’t his type. you weren’t the type of girl a gym person like him would date.

but you couldn’t be more wrong.

damian had a crush on you. he developed feelings since the moment he saw you. he couldn’t get enough and his stalking abilities made it easier for him to find your instagram. he wanted to ask you out so bad but he didn’t know what kind of life he could give you. he was away from home all the time and he knew he couldn’t bring you with him.

he thought about those things all the time but that never stopped his feeling for you.

he wasn’t sure what was going on but there was something in your looks that was telling him that something was off.

“hey y/n! you okay?” he asked softly approaching you.

“hi damian” you greeted him with your soft voice “yes everything okay” you smiled.

“you sure? you know you can tell me if there’s something bothering you…” he smiled at you. a genuine smile you haven’t seen in months.

“it’s just…it doesn’t matter…”

“it does matter if it’s the reason i haven’t seen you smiling or laughing all morning” he teased.

“well, it’s my birthday and…well, none of my friends remembered it but it doesn’t really matter…” you awkwardly said, trying to not sound childish because in your mind it sounded stupid being mad for something like that.

“happy birthday hermosa” he said hugging you.

you never felt that hot in your life.

“t-thank you…i really appreciate it” you smiled.

“do you have any plans or things you wanna do today?”

“i actually have to finish some work but i was thinking of maybe watching a movie and ordering some pizza tonight since i’ll be alone anyway…” you whispered the last part and damian caught that too.

“text me your address after lunch, i’ll pick you up and take you somewhere nice” he said leaving before you could actually reply.

and so you did.

you had no idea where he was taking you so you tried to be elegant but not too extra at the same time.

he took you to a cinema and you both comfortably watched the new hunger games movie and ended up eating some pizza at the cute place near your home.

“you really shouldn’t have done it…maybe you had other plans today” you felt a little apologetic.

“no other plans, trust me…”

he loved spending the day with you. he got to know you better. definitely better than the usual ten minutes talk at the gym. he got to know what you liked, how you loved your pizza, what drinks you drink, what music you like to listen, what movies and shows you like to watch and more. he was comfortable with you and he wished every day was like this.

“still…you didn’t have to do it for me…” you smiled.

“i loved doing it for you” he said seriously, his eyes never leaving yours and you felt butterflies all over your body.

“then…thank you so much for the night” you whispered.

“you’re very welcome…even if you haven’t eaten the cake yet…” he said before taking a candle from his jacket and lighting it up for you “make a wish hermosa” he said with his deep voice.

“i think it already came true…” you teased back. before you could eat your piece of cake, he gently grabbed your hand and kissed the palm of it.

“it could be like this every night if you want to, you know…” he whispered, keeping your hand close to his lips “i really like you y/n and if you give one chance i could show you how i feel about you…”

“okay…” you whispered.

“okay” he smiled and kissed your hand again, making you forget about the cake.

honestly? fuck the cake if he could give you dessert every night.

[mchlgayser]

☆ we've met again ft michael kaiser

synopsis: Four years past since you left and raised his kid alone until fate decides to bring him back to the picture.

─── ୨୧ warning: slight angst

─── ୨୧ notes: Is the fandom dying?? Why hadn't my post gotten as many hype as before lmao! It's sad but anyway I'm back with another drabble to feed you all!! Happy reading everyone xoxo!

You hastily pick up your car key and grab a few of your works essential stuffing them inside your suitcase. Your four-year-old son is by the patio sitting and playing games with his nanny when you tread to him 'Kay, mama had some work to do. I promise I'll be back for dinner. Be a good boy for me and do not cause trouble alright? Have a nice day at school.: He nods putting down his gadget, and wrapping his arms around your neck to hug you 'I love you' You give the side of his head a chaste kiss before letting go.

'I had some leftovers from last night you can use as his lunch and as for the dinner I'll just buy takeouts.' You inform his nanny giving her an advance payment before you left the house.

You drove to your office receiving an unknown call on the way. You pick it up and greet the caller but silence. They said nothing before it abruptly ended. You stare at your phone before shaking your head. It didn't occur to you about anything serious as you continue steering the car and parked at the basement parking lot.

Your secretary, Miss. Juliette is already by the automatic door waiting for you with a clipboard in her hands. You got out of the car and rush to her 'What's my schedule for today?' You punch the elevator button while your secretary notify you about every single of your tasks today.

You got a lunch with one of your important client, a meet -up with your temporary business partners and a dinner with another client -

'Cancel my dinner with Mr. Han. I'm having dinner with Kayden tonight.' Juliette didn't need to be asked twice knowing how firm you can be when it comes to your son. For him, everything comes first. No matter how important your job is. She immediately postponed the dinner meeting to another date before moving along with you to your cabin.

'Do you need your coffee today?' You rapidly nod and start doing your tasks, bringing out works and files so that you can finish faster. 'Make it two, I need extras.' You lend a sweet smile before you got to work.

The clock almost strikes six - just enough time for you to finish all of your work for the day and get the takeouts you ordered online. You pack your stuff and your necessities when your phone rang for the nth times of the day. You didn't think twice before picking up 'Hello?' It was silence... Again before a sharp and low 'Hey' is heard.

You blink in surprise asking them to know who they are but no answer and it ended again. You rolled your eyes and left the room to the car park. Yo throw away your bag in the back seat and resounded the car, cooling off the engine and blowing on some loud music to distract you from the suspicious spam calls.

'Yes, thank you so much! Have a nice day!' You rolled up the window putting down the food beside you on the shotgun seat. You maneuver the car to Kayden's school in silence but the radio.

You arrive at Kayden school's main gate and got out to meet with his teacher 'Hello ma'am. I'm here to pick Kayden up.' She was looking at you back and forth 'A man has already picked him up claiming to be your husband. Kayden went along with him.' You started to panic bringing out your phone and calling his nanny asking her to come by his school and help you look around.

You bow down at his teacher and run around the neighborhood, looking for your son. Thick tears threaten to fall when you look around but find him nowhere.

You call for his name again but are abruptly interrupted when you see a vogue silhouette of your son with a familiar blond and blue streaks hair sitting together on a bench near the playground.

'Kayden!' You yelled his name averting his whole attention toward you 'Mama!' He cries out running your direction to hug your trembling form 'You scared me!' You scolded him with tears now cascading down your cheeks 'I'm sorry...' You sigh tightening your hug and breaking it off after some moments.

You suddenly remembered the familiar blond guy with your son 'And who are you with-'

'He is with me.' The familiar voice brings you out of your trance. You pick Kayden up and rush away but he holds your hand 'I met him already, no need to hide away.' You carefully yank his hand away and sigh.

You put Kayden down and hide him behind you out of instinct.

His irises collided with yours, the identical smile adorning his complexion. 'This weird uncle said that he's my father. I don't believe him because he is so ugly. I don't have an ugly father right, ma? I'm too handsome to be his son.' He absentmindedly roasted his biological father that succeeded to bring a smile and a chuckle from you.

You pull his hand gently and turn to Kaiser 'He got all your traits.' You mentioned bringing confusion written all over Kayden's face.

'You are making my mama cry.' He said creating a dagger on Kaiser 'Am not.' He challenged, his hand on his midriff with his head tilt aside 'You are. If you are my father then you are the reason my mama cried almost every day because... She missed you.' A soft gasp elicited from you, your eyes sheet moist with tears once more.

'Then tell her, she should've not run away.' Kaiser held your hand, one brow furrowing. You push him away and wipe your tears. 'Kayden, stop spouting nonsense.' He huffs and pouts away.

'How do you find out about us?' He shrug 'I had my ways and that is not your concern. Not at all.' He lifts your chin and smirks 'You are still as beautiful as I remember.' You scoff but could not help the bright red hue on your cheeks.

'And I suppose it was you too, the one that's been calling me?' He laughs but nodded 'But I'm sure with my calls it helps to remind you of one thing.'

'And that is...?'

'It would be dangerous for such a gorgeous lady as you to be in a house that's not with your husband.'

'Can you stop flirting with my mama, weird uncle.' Kaiser is about to bite the tongue of his son but you prevent him from doing so 'Kay, I need you to start getting along with this uncle from now on.' He groan cut obligated

'Do you finally accept me back? Oh, and I need an explanation as to why you left. It can't be because of you are pregnant...' You look down at Kayden and ignored his question.

His mouth formed an 'o' shape but then he smiles 'I guess I can forgive you.'

'I think I need some time...' You suddenly mention making Kaiser confused 'About what?' You held his forearm 'About us.'

He nods picking Kayden up and make him yelps in surprise 'Sure. Let's go now little K.'

He places an arm around your waist and the other used to hold Kayden. You smile feeling somehow relieved - Kaiser and Kayden ended up bickering as to who you loves more all the way home and they both get a nice scolding after.

[bloodyshadow1]

the bad kids ranked by how much I think Arthur Aguefort likes them for fun. mostly written before Junior year but I wanted to post before the penultimate episode tonight

6th Riz- I dont think Arthur dislikes Riz, I just think they don't exactly get on. Arthur is the ultimate authority at the school but also a rule breaker, while Riz is kind of a stickler for the rules which I think would cause some friction or at the very least I think the two of them are more neutral than anything towards each other. Riz has his feral and chaotic moments, but I don't think Arthur really sees them compared to the rest of the bad kids who are more chaotic instead of feral

5th Fabian- I also don't think Arthur dislikes Fabian, I think they don't really have much to talk about. I think one of the few conversations they had, Arthur basically gave him the okay to bring the hangman along on their spring break trip so I don't think there's bad blood between them, just again kind of neutral. I think Fabian is less cringey than Riz and Arthur is more likely to laugh at his jokes so he's higher on this list

4th Gorgug- Things with gorgug are weird, because he could go up or down on this list depending on the conversation. They have a weird relationship since there are times that just by questioning him Gorgug pisses Arthur off and he isn't afraid to say so. Other times he seems to respect Gorgug like when he says he did the right thing with Zelda in Sophomore years, which while creepy is respectful. He also seems to take Gorgug's advice to heart with Ayda and trusts Gorgug with his magic pocket watch. I think he respects Gorgug but would also hunt him for sport if the opportunity arose. I think if Gorgug had nemesis alert Arthur would be listed, I don't think he hates Gorgug by any means, but feels like it's the right thing to do in his own twisted mind.

3rd Kristen- She's another one who could go up or down on the list depending on when, seeing as she did bring Arthur back to life and snuck him in and out of heaven. She also pissed him off and made him go into a rant when she tried to say love was the most powerful magic of all. Still, he seems to at least like her a little bit so it's kind of a toss up. But Kristen is a crazy entity even within the bad kids which earns her extra points.

2nd Fig- I think Arthur really likes Fig, she's wild and crazy, which fits him just fine. I think the challenge to create a brand new creature out of nothing that could transport them around before they left solace/elmville at the start of sophomore year endeared her specifically to him. I think he is very happy that she is the one dating his daughter, however I think he takes his job as Fig's girlfriend's father very seriously and is ready to destroy Fig at any moment.

1st Adaine. I think Arthur Aguefort likes Adaine the most out of the bad kids. partially because she's a fellow wizard and his daughter's best/first friend, but there are other reasons. I think he enjoys Adaine's attitude most out of the bad kids, she isn't afraid to be savage and let out dark jokes when the mood suits her that even the other bad kids find appalling but suits Arthur just fine. While the bad kids are full of chaos gremlins, I think adaine is more feral than chaotic which is why I think Arthur would prefer her the most. Adaine also has the most the Seven energy of the bad kids and since sophomore year her bloodthirsty nature and lack of respect for authority and refusal to back down when she thinks she's right makes her the perfect student to him. I feel like if he was in his right mind and not dead the first day of school he would have seen this tiny shaking high elf in a hudol uniform covered in blood because she just killed the lunch lady with her own ladle, he would have been like, when she graduates, I'm going to be her best friend when she graduates and she would have no say. So to be clear, I don't think this is good for Adaine in anyway to be his favorite, I just think she is his favorite Bad Kid

And for the most part, I think Arthur genuinely likes the bad kids as students and as an adventuring party, but in a way that's not good for them. He respects their violent nature and drive to make a nuisance out of themselves to any villains that might be hatching or in the middle of an evil plan. Not to mention their refusal to obey rules and laws that they feel are unjust or annoying. It's why they're his favorite, it's why he knew it would be them who would understand his point behind the last stand-ard exam, he just loves them because they are everything he's looking for in adventuring students.

[yesimwriting]

First Impressions

First ever final girl fic universe seperate fic!! all that means is that even though this is canon in the final girl fic world, it is a separate fic that stands on its own!! you don't need to read any part of final girl first!!

also if you’d like to request a fic that’s set in the final girl world, feel free too, just know that as of now there won’t be anything directly couple-y between Y/n and the boys, just specify in the request!

this is not part 6 of final girl, it's a separate little sort of prequel??

Summary: How Billy and Stu's feelings for Y/n first developed

----

Billy doesn't know when the official switch first flipped. He isn't sure when you went from being a pretty face with a sense of humor that he found a little more objectively funny than most to someone that started taking over his thoughts.

Maybe it did start that first day, when Stu kept making jokes that forced him to keep bringing up the 'hot new girl that Tatum wouldn't shut up about.’ After about the third comment about you, Billy realized that it wasn't really a joke. It was a testing of waters, Stu's not-so-subtle attempt to gauge Billy's opinion of you.

It wasn't like Stu wanted permission to like you, the two of them understood how they felt about others, about girls. But you were different, a thought that made something unfamiliar flare up in them. Feelings too possessive to be categorized as simply want. And too protective to be considered just ownership.

Maybe it did start the day he met you. The first words he ever heard you say didn't quite fit you, but they intrigued him enough to look at you twice.

----

Today is dragging on. It's not even lunch yet and Billy's trying to calculate if he can get away with skipping the rest of his classes. Maybe he'd grab Stu at the start of their shared 5th period and just go. They could get high or drive around for awhile or just cut early to watch a movie. Billy doesn't really know what he wants, he just knows that he doesn't want to be here. Looking through his locker and waiting for Sid.

Being around her is all hot and cold. Some days playing the good boyfriend is barely painful, making it easy to even actually listen to some of her stories. But on days like today, he has to be aware of all of his thoughts and impulses in order to avoid blowing up their plan. The one year mark is coming up soon.

"You know that much planning can make you sound like a psychopath." That's Sid. Billy can't see her yet, but she's still rounding the corner and her voice sounds light. The irony of her saying something like that only steps away from Billy would almost be amusing on a normal day.

"Psychopaths get shit done." A voice that's completely unfamiliar. Normally, he'd brush it off. He doesn't bother keeping up with many people outside of their inner friend group. He could point out a few faces from over the years, but no one else ever really stands out to him.

Just as Sid and the stranger round the corner, the unknown voice speaks again. "Uh--that's not the kind of joke you can make in front of someone you just met. Swear I'm not planning a mass murder, I'm just extra about planning my class schedule."

Billy turns away from his open locker, deciding that since he's this bored and the comment was somewhat amusing before the stranger started backtracking, he's intrigued enough to really look at them. Plus, Sidney seems to like them, so it's probably a thing he should be putting effort into anyways.

You're not what he was expecting. A true new girl. The true new girl. The girl most people glanced at a little too long this morning because when does anyone ever move to Woodsboro? And when does anyone start school here about a month into the school year?

You're holding a stack of heavy textbooks that seem like over kill and blinking up at him with eyes he doesn't think he'll immediately forget about. It's different than noticing someone he finds attractive. This is more intrusive.

Billy doesn't like that he doesn't instinctually dismiss you as high school background static.

His eyes eventually snag on what you're wearing. A sweater that doesn't seem to fit you that he recognizes instantly. He nearly tore it off Stu this morning before school when they both had half a mind to skip.

Billy's jaw clenches and he isn't sure if the sweater has him feeling territorial over Stu or if it has him looking at you a little differently. Maybe the sweater was a little situation Stu created for Billy to notice. A tiny, well orchestrated way to rile Billy up to get back at him for this morning. Or maybe a way to tag you, to tell Billy that he should look at you twice. It doesn't matter, he now knows for a fact that you'll be coming up later, the second Stu and him get a second alone.

"I believe you," Sidney breathes easily, a half laugh in her voice as she breezes past him, likely walking you towards their group's usual lunch spot. He doesn't like that a part of him hopes that his assumption is right.

----

Mr. James has been ranting about who knows what for the last fifteen minutes, and Stu hasn’t heard a word of it. He hasn’t even had a fully clear thought since you stumbled in three minutes late, mumbling an apology as you beelined for the first available seat you could find. It happened to be right next to him. So close Stu can see the doodles in your notebook. They’re cute, scribbled stars and swirls, but disappointingly un-telling. He didn’t expect to see you so soon after Tatum befriended you in the parking lot, and he didn’t think you’d look like this.

“I like your shirt better like this.” You look up at him like a deer caught in front of a moving car. “The neon green brings out your eyes.”

You let out a breath that’s almost a laugh. “Oh, thanks, that was the goal.” You glance down at your shirt, crossing your arms in front of your chest self consciously. “This is a result of my annoying habit of not looking both ways before crossing the hall. Some guy ran into me and spilled his energy drink all over me, and he didn’t even stop to say sorry.”

“Wow,” Stu humors you because there’s just something about the irritated pout of your lips, “Rude.”

“I know!” You whisper-yell before cringing slightly at your volume. 

“Exciting first day so far.”

Shifting in your seat again, you blink once, pen tapping against your notebook. “No kidding.”

“If I give you my sweater, does that count as me bailing you out twice today?” 

Your lips part as you glare at him in a way that’s almost shy. Before you can tell him that pointing out a classroom doesn’t count as bailing you out, the two of you are interrupted. 

“Mr. Macher, since you’re so interested in talking today, why don’t you tell us how many delegates attended the Constitutional Convention in 1787?” 

Stu remains unfazed, turning away from you and towards the teacher. You begin writing something else down, and then, in a move so subtle and quick Stu almost thinks he imagined it, you tap the side of your foot against his. His eyes flit down towards the notebook that you’ve pushed to the edge of your desk.

“55,” Stu says confidently, reading the circled number off of your notebook.

Frowning, Mr. James continues, “That’s correct.” Pacing towards the bored, he asks another question, “And which state wasn’t represented?”

You’re quick to write out the next answer in order for Stu to read it out loud, “Rhode Island.”

Getting frustrated, Mr. James begins to press, “Where did they meet?”

“Philadelphia.”

At that, Mr. James lets out a sigh that’s more frustrated than it should be. Deciding that he can’t push this interrogation any further, Mr. James lets it go and moves on. 

Stu smiles despite himself, finding it a little...cute that you outed yourself as a bit of a nerd. It’s something about who you are that you’ve finally revealed. He glances back at your notebook as you inch it even closer to him. He reads over the last thing you wrote: who’s bailing who out now?

You’re smug about it, too. It’s adorable, like being near a puppy. A puppy that Stu isn’t sure if he’d keep around or accidentally squeeze just a little too hard. He just met you, but something about your demeanor is just so innocent and you seem so soft. It’s distracting and oddly riling and he hasn’t quite made up his mind if he’s going to hold it against you or not. 

God, if Tatum decides to really befriend you, this could be interesting. And if Billy were to meet you? Stu’s convinced that he’ll pick up on the fact that you’re something else just as fast. That realization leads to a train of thought that has him struggling to focus on acting normal. 

----

Stu knows two things. The first is that something is definitely on Billy’s mind, and the second is that Billy can tell that Stu’s focus is elsewhere. Stu also knows that right now is a terrible time to get caught up in some girl just because he can’t stop thinking about your eyes and the cute little turn of your lips that was almost a smile.

And seeing you in his sweater for the rest of the day just did something to him. 

Okay, technically that’s more than two things. 

“You wanna order takeout?” The question comes out perfectly casual in a way that Stu knows Billy will interpret as suspicious. “We can save the movie you rented for when the food gets here.”

Billy nods once, absentmindedly, “Sure.” His fingers press into the cushion of the couch, but that doesn’t do anything to relieve his tension. Billy moves his hand, squeezing the back of his turned over arm and letting his nails dig into the soft skin of his inner wrist. The pinching pain is meant to snap him out of it. “What do you think of the girl Tatum was all over today?”

The question nearly sends Stu spiraling. It’s rare for Stu to be unsure on what kind of reaction someone’s looking for, but he’s out of practice with Billy. He can’t remember the last time he cared about monitoring his reactions in front of Billy. “What about her?”

“Do you think Tatum will keep her around enough for her to be a factor?”

Oh. It’s about the plan. Of course it is. Stu thinks of your face, your eyes, the almost smile. It makes his blood rush in a specific way, and he’s not sure if he’d rather see you tremble out of fear or arousal. Maybe there’d be time for both.

“Don’t know. Tatum thought she was nice, didn’t shut up about her, but she’s a little book-y, y’know?” Stu shifts slightly, just enough to seem like he’s slumping further into the couch. “She’s probably too naive to be a factor either way.”

Billy half shrugs. “Not sure, she’s reading Carrie.” 

Stu almost points out that Billy isn’t usually the type to note details like that about people he doesn’t know or care about. “Think she likes scary movies?”

“There’s an easy way to find out,” Billy mumbles, only somewhat serious. He then drops his gaze towards his lap, nails digging just a little harder into his skin than before. “She doesn’t seem like the victim type. You know what she reminded me of with her too-nice-for-her-own-good, girl next door thing?”

Already piecing together what Billy’s getting at, Stu decides to play along. “What?”

At that, Billy throws him a somewhat scolding look. It’s a gentle chiding for trying to get away with bullshitting him. “A final girl.” With a slight sigh, Billy decides that he’s ready to bring up his real point, “You definitely thought so.”

The nail in the coffin hits Stu harder than he thought it would. Billy’s called him out on a lot over the years, but Stu’s never come this close to feeling embarrassed. He doesn’t get this difference, he doesn’t get why he didn’t just say something at the beginning. The two of them talk about girls they find hot all the time. Why are you the exception that makes him feel kind of awkward?

“What?”

Billy rolls his eyes before pointedly glaring at Stu in a way that can only be described as bitchy. “You think I can’t tell when you like a girl?”

The word like settles uncomfortably in Stu’s chest. “Jealous?” It’s a sad attempt at deflecting. “Like you didn’t think she was cute with the way you jumped in to save her just as I was getting her a little worked up.”

“You were making fun of someone and trying to make her uncomfortable.” 

“Since when does that matter?”

Billy pauses, thinking through his potential responses. “I didn’t give her my sweater.” It’s a flat comment, barely more than an observation. “I wasn’t the one looking at her like I couldn’t decide if I wanted to pin her against the wall or hold her there with a knife.” Stu’s eyes darken slightly as his posture stiffens and Billy struggles to not look smug openly. “Surprised you didn’t come in here trying to get me to jerk you off to the thought of her all bloody and begging you to let her live. I bet you’ve been thinking about that since you saw he in the parking lot this morning.”

Stu finds it in himself to keep it together enough to say, “You’re there too. She’s crying and looks over at you with those wide eyes like she needs you.” 

The comment serves as a ceasefire of sorts. A reminder that neither of them has a true upper hand when it comes to this kind of thing.

----

Maybe the change came the first time Billy was completely alone with you. The hall was empty, school had ended long enough for most club meetings to have started. Most of the people that linger after school have moved to the parking lot or behind the bleachers. 

Billy recognizes the back of your head instantly. You’re starting to become more and more noticeable. It’s a new development, something he still isn’t sure how he feels about. It’s good to be aware, but it’s more than that. A small part of him seems to jump whenever he realizes you’re in the same room. It’s ridiculous. If Stu knew about the pinch of warmth that rises in him whenever he realizes that you’re around, he’d never hear the end of it.

He almost walks away, leaving you there as you groan in frustration at your locker. “You okay?” 

You look up, eyes rounder than usual. You’re always a little fidgety, but today, you’re jumpier than ever. Stu threw his arm around your shoulders during lunch after making a joke that made you both seem like an old, married couple. It’s not rare for Stu to find an excuse to touch you, and you react to it a lot more casually than you used to. But today, you almost flinched. Something’s going on, maybe it has something to do with your mom’s boyfriend. 

You called Sid up the other night late, asking her if you could sleep over because your mom was out and you didn’t want to be alone with him. Maybe your mom isn’t back yet and the thought of going back to that environment has you on edge. Billy gets that feeling. 

“I think this locker has a personal vendetta against me.” 

He nods, trying not to focus on anything particular about you. Still, though, there’s something a little endearing about your dramatics. “A vendetta? Intense.” 

You pull on the lock again, trying to balance a bunch of binders and books in one arm. “Extremely.” 

With the way you’re struggling, it’s only a matter of time before everything collapses. “Here.” Billy pushes the lock in, holding it in position for a second before pulling it down. “It wasn’t still locked, just jammed. The lockers here do that.” 

You let out a relieved sigh. “You’re my hero.” It’s casual praise, a comment you’ll likely never think about again, but it leaves that strange warmth flaring through him. 

“Do you need any help?”

“I’ve got it.” The shake of your head is polite, but the fact that you’re clearly struggling to keep your hold on everything is apparent. You don’t always accept help easily. Suppressing an eye roll, Billy takes the top two books from your stack. You give him a look before admitting defeat. “Thank you.” 

You finish putting away the items in your arms before taking the textbooks back from Billy and making them fit into what’s left of the space. You then move to look through your backpack, taking out different colored sets of sticky notes and highlighters. It’s not really noteworthy until you start taking different sticky notes and highlighters out of your locker and putting them into your backpack. 

“Didn’t you just put those--” 

“Those were the note color combos for history, science, and english. These are the note color combos for my journalism class and math, plus my additional sticky notes for english reading that’s a book and not a textbook. I also like to use different highlighters for different levels of--” Billy’s watching you carefully as you cut yourself off. “I’m way more normal than this makes me look, I swear.” 

It’s that half thought out defense that has Billy practically frozen in place. There’s just something so you about the way you cut yourself off, and Billy’s practically lost in it. You’re an open book when it comes to feelings, but he always finds himself trying to guess what you’re going to say before you actually say it.

Billy fights against a smile. “I don’t believe it.” Your mouth opens in a mock gasp. “Do you have a ride home?”

You zip your backpack shut. “I was gonna walk.” 

He’s yet to see you drive and he’s starting to think you don’t have a car. It’s an unseasonably chilly day and you’re wearing something short with no jacket. Billy also doesn’t love the idea of you walking alone while looking like that. Too pretty, too noticeable, and there are some fucked up people out there.

In an impulsive move, Billy says, “I can take you.” The offer surprises you, you clearly weren’t expecting that from him. Billy can’t blame you for your confusion. It’s not that he’s cold towards you, he just hasn’t let himself get too close to you.

You’re a breath of fresh air to not just him. With the way everyone’s always all over you, Billy has let himself step to the sidelines a little. At least, that’s what he tells himself, but if he’s being completely honest, his thoughts around you are flighty and unsure. Sometimes if he thinks about it too hard it makes him feel like he’s a kid desperate for his mom to beam at him to make everything go away.

It’s twisting and weird and he’s not sure if it makes him want you closer to him or if it makes him want to just give in and force a knife through you just so that voice in the back of his head will stop. You can’t exactly reject him if he buries a knife into you first. But he’s been trying a little more recently. 

It’s only been a short time and you’ve already gotten so comfortable with Stu and his brazenness. It’s starting to make Billy a little more relaxed. Enough to crack a smile every once in awhile and partner with you for a project in English class.

“Oh,” you hum after a second, “Thank you.” You take your time zipping your backpack up to avoid needing to look at him. “But you don’t have to do that. I’d hate to put you out.” 

Billy knows that it’s likely you trying not to be an inconvenience. You never do accept help the first time it’s offered. You don’t know what you need. Despite Billy’s awareness, the slight rejection stings. That warmth you make him feel twists in his stomach in a way that burns. 

“It wouldn’t be putting me out.” He pauses, trying to think through what he can say to get you to agree without making his offer sound too significant. “It’s cold, I can’t let you freeze.” 

You shut your locker, letting yourself consider his offer. It was the right thing to remind you of. Even though it’s not exactly freezing here, it’s hotter in Texas and you’re not used to September feeling all that different than July. “One condition?” 

“I’m doing you a favor.” 

Playfully, you roll your eyes dramatically. Billy smiles at the gesture despite himself. “Don’t go around telling people I’m like some kind of weird sticky note freak?” 

“Weird sticky note freak?” Billy repeats the words like he’s seriously weighing the pros and cons of your request. “Nope. Sorry. Have to tell everyone.” 

The tension of uncertainty behind your stance disappears and the way you’re looking at him changes entirely. His joke surprised you in a good way. It’s a flash of a side of an easier going side of him. “Everyone, huh?” You tilt your head slightly as you consider what to say. “Wish I knew something embarrassing about you to...ensure your silence.” 

He almost laughs. “Ensure my silence? You’d blackmail me?” 

Shrugging comfortably, you reply, “I’d do what needs to be done.”

Billy takes a step forward, angling himself so that there’s a subtle implication that you’re trapped between him and your locker. You seem to pick up on it subconsciously, because the pure humor leaves your eyes. “Didn’t think you could be so mean.” 

You blink, a tiny bit of shyness making itself apparent. Your proximity to each other is just as significant to you as it is to him. Billy can tell by the way you struggle to hold his gaze. The fact that the nerves are mutual makes Billy feel a little easier, a little warm in a good way. 

“I’m multifaceted.” It’s practically a squeak and it sends a thrill straight through Billy.

He’s never been this close to you and yet it still feels so far. The urge to do something with his hands, to touch you just to know what the warmth of your skin would feel like beneath his fingertips, hits him hard and fast. Billy straightens in an attempt to break the spell.

It’s not enough, so he starts walking forward. “Come on before I see you do something really embarrassing like color code tabs in your binder.” 

You turn quickly, trying to match his long, even strides. “That’s actually--” Silencing yourself with a slight huff, you glare at him. “And...that was a joke. You’re making fun of me.” 

Instead of answering the question, Billy decides to push just a little more. “You know this isn’t exactly a sticky note level secret, but sometimes I color coordinate my pens based on each class I’m in. The ink matches my folders.” 

“Haha,” you breathe sarcastically, heat rising to your face. “You have a really underrated sense of humor.”

----

Now that you’re here, so casually taking up space somewhere that’s just his, Billy doesn’t want you to go. Your uncertainty melted away after the first two minutes and you’ve been casually chatting away ever since.

You tried making fun of his music, but ultimately had to admit your disappointment that Billy’s taste isn’t worse. He apologized and promised that next time he drove you somewhere, he’d make sure to have nothing but the cheesiest pop top 20 available, that way you could bully him to your heart’s content. He also made sure to tell you that if you really want to make fun of someone for their choice of music, you should ask Stu to show you his CD collection. 

After saying that, Billy watched your reaction carefully through the rearview mirror. You seemed to like the promise of future car rides.

You’re tapping your fingers against your knee casually, eyes focused on the window. The two of you are getting close to your place now, and something about your energy is beginning to shift downwards. You don’t want to go home.

Screw it, you don’t want to be home and after Stu’s stuffy energy today, Billy realizes that both of you could use a bit of a pick me up. 

"Today’s Thursday, right?” 

Turning your attention back towards him, your hand stills on your lap. “Yeah, why?” 

“I forgot I told Stu I’d be at his place by 3:30 today. We were supposed to go get something to eat.” It’s a partial lie. It was an assumed thing that Billy would make his way over to Stu’s at some point, especially since it’s been a little while since they both had a free day. Between school and their girlfriends, it just hasn’t worked out. But they never indicated a time and Billy isn’t actually late. “We’re about to pass Stu’s house.” 

Billy pauses, pretending that this idea just came to him. “Want to come with us? I can drive you home after and that way Stu won’t get into his whole thing when I’m late.” 

You’re intrigued by the offer, he can tell by the way you’re cautiously studying him from the corner of your vision. “I don’t need to crash your thing.” 

“You’re not crashing.” You don’t look convinced. “You’re our friend.”

At that, your demeanor seems to soften. The word friend leaves you beaming and that feeling flickers in Billy’s chest again. 

“You’re sure Stu won’t mind?” You’re watching him freely now, eyes cautious. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“As long as you don’t bring out the sticky notes and try to color coordinate anything.” 

Fighting down a laugh, you roll your eyes. “Sounds tough, but I think I can manage.” 

----

Stu’s laying against his couch, Texas Chainsaw Massacre playing on the living room television. He’s only half paying attention, strangely apathetic. 

The call had come this morning, right before he left for school. His parents were rescheduling their return, claiming that business was just too good for them to fly home already. Apparently someone offered his dad an in on some deal, and now they’re in negotiations for that. Stu barely believed them, considering that the business trip was in Vegas, and his mom has a pension for shopping in large cities. 

He didn’t call them out for it. He never does. Lie or truth, it doesn’t make a difference why they’re not coming back. The point is they’re just not. 

When Stu was younger, he used to complain a little, but that was quickly nipped in the bud by his father reminding him that he’s a man. He shouldn’t really need anything from his parents except assurance that his needs would be taken care of, and that’s definitely a problem they’ve never had. A large and safe roof over his head and enough pocket money to keep himself fed and entertained. What else could a teenage boy want? 

Stu was half expecting some kind of call. It had been a little over a week with no communication and they always announce their return home a few days in advance. They never tell Stu about their delays until the day before they’re supposed to come back. 

He doesn’t know why he’s thinking about this or why it’s getting to him a little more today than usual. Maybe it has to do with the fact that his parents are coming close to beating their record for longest time traveling without so much as a weekend pit stop at home to change out their luggage. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s barely gotten any time with Billy this week. It doesn’t matter. The fact that he’s phased at all is stupid.

A knocking at his door snaps him out of his train of thoughts. Weird. A spike of hope strikes him with no warning. It could be Billy, but Billy never knocks. He walks in and doesn’t even bother to greet Stu verbally before sitting down next to him. It could be Tay, but he can’t remember making any plans with her or the last time she spontaneously popped by his place without at least calling first. 

Stu opens the front door casually, because this is Woodsboro, and an unexpected knock is no reason for concern. His eyes immediately land on Billy, who’s standing there like there’s nothing weird about him knocking. 

“You kn--” He cuts himself off after noticing that Billy’s not alone. Excitement pulses through him at the realization that it’s you. Stu has no idea how Billy pulled this off, but it’s a good surprise. A good enough surprise to get him to shake off the weird way he’s feeling. “Look who wandered onto my doorstep.” 

Ignoring the consuming way he’s looking at you, you greet him normally. “Hi to you too.” 

“Picked her up,” Billy jumps in, catching Stu up on his innocent enough lie as casually as possible, “She’s a stray, so she’s coming with us to grab something to eat.” 

That paired with the subtle look Billy sends him is enough for Stu to piece together enough of the story to go along with it. “You’re late, but since you brought me a gift, I’ll let it go.” 

You practically laugh at that. “Dramatic.” 

Stu turns towards you, grinning at the excuse to grab you. He tugs on your arm, ignoring your protests as he pushes you against the doorframe. The sudden shift in mood isn’t something you’re expecting, but Stu can’t help it. Especially when he knows that he has your full attention. He can take seeming pushy if it means he’s the only thing you’re focusing on. 

“Stu.” It’s too surprised and amused to be scolding.

His smile widens at the way you’re looking at him. “Take it back.” 

You bite back a grin, watching him carefully. There’s an edge to his usual brand of chaos, but it’s not unnerving. If anything, a part of you feels the need to prove him wrong. “No.” 

It’s not so much the blatant defiance as it is that smug look behind your eyes that sets Stu off. His hold on you tightens, and the way he tilts his head leaves a feeling you don’t understand pulsing through you. It leaves your face warm. 

“No?” You blink at the question, chin sticking out just slightly in an attempt to hold your ground. “Brat.” 

Still not giving him the satisfaction of your panic, you keep your voice steady as you react, “Dra-ma-tic.” 

Billy straightens, watching the exchange cautiously. He understands that look behind Stu’s eyes better than Stu does. You’re teetering on the edge of either Stu forgetting that this is a delicate situation and crossing a line or something even more dangerous. But this is the most like himself Stu’s been all day and you’re smiling. It’s a moment that’s so domestic Billy’s not sure how he hadn’t managed to get you here sooner. 

Releasing one of your arms, Stu places a hand on your side. Billy studies the contact carefully before Stu starts to move. His fingers move quickly, up and down your side as you laugh and squirm. It’s cute and easy going, but considering Stu’s mood today, Billy isn’t sure how long it’ll stay that way. 

“What were you saying?” 

“That--” You cut yourself off with a loud laugh that’s almost a gasp as Stu’s hand brushes against your side. “That you’re the--the most even temper-tempered, understa--understated person I’ve ever met.”

Stu pauses, hands squeezing your hips once before releasing you, but he makes no move to put any distance between you. “I’d love to believe you, babe, but you don’t really seem sorry.” 

That does frazzle you enough to get your eyes to widen. You laugh or maybe even yelp as Stu’s hands move to grab you again. You turn quickly, nearly stumbling as you try to dodge him. 

Stu could probably grab you and force you back into place easily, but he lets you have your small victory. It’s more fun with a little bit of a chase, anyways.

Billy places a hand on your shoulder, keeping you steady as you fight against a nervous giggle. “Help.” 

He’s never had such a good excuse to pull you towards him. Maybe Billy should have been the voice of reason. After all, this is your first time all doing something after school and scaring you off really is a possibility. But he can’t help himself. In one smooth movement, Billy turns you and presses your back into his chest. “You know in the movies nothing gets you killed faster than begging for help.”

You’re barely given a second to register his words because Stu’s on you in a second, tickling you before you can read too much into the lowness of Billy’s voice. He rests his chin against your back, briefly hiding his face into your neck as you squirm.

Billy looks up, meeting Stu’s gaze as you fondly tell them that they’re, “Literally the worst,” in a voice that’s so sweet they’re surprised they hold it together.

It’s in that moment, that silent exchange, that they both come to a mutual decision. You’re theirs now, and even though you don’t know it yet, nothing’s going to change that. 

[dreamcubed]

daylight | harry potter x reader

song; daylight [taylor swift] pairing; harry potter x ministry worker!single mother!fem!hufflepuff!reader genre; s2l, fluff, angst word count; 4,4k timeline; post-second wizarding war warnings; references to abusive ex (verbal, emotional, baby-trapping), y/n has trust issues, references to poverty summary; after providing for yourself and your two sons alone for so long, you were foreign to the concept of help, and the last person you expected to receive it from was the infamous boy who lived

masterlist

"i once believed love would be burning red, but it's golden."

————————————————

Now both your sons were in school, you were finally able to take on a full-time job and bring more money in. It had been immensely difficult being limited to only a low-paying part time job for the last five years, but you had needed flexible hours due to your lack of support system when it came to raising your boys. They were a year apart, at four and five, and their father hadn't been in the picture since the third trimester of the youngest's pregnancy.

Your family had turned their backs to you after you fell pregnant so young, out of wedlock, and without a decent job. And Merlin knows your baby daddy's family wanted absolutely nothing to do with you.

It was a shame, because your academics were good, and you had received excellent scores in both your OWLs and NEWTs, originally having big plans for your career. Then your boyfriend at the time baby-trapped you, just to abandon you anyway.

But now your sons were both old enough to enrol in muggle primary school, which was unusual for magic families to do, but it gave you the opportunity to get a better job and create a better life for the both of them. Merlin knows you were too busy to adequately homeschool them in the years before Hogwarts, anyway.

"Well, Miss L/N, you seem more than qualified," the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the Ministry of Magic said to you, "Typically we only have freshly graduated applicants for such positions, though."

"Does that dampen by chances?"

"Not at all," she shook her head, "I see no reason not to hire you, unless there's something you need to tell me?"

You bit your tongue, deciding to not let her on to the fact you had two sons to take care of all by yourself. "No, ma'am."

"Well, perfect. Your hours would be from 8am til 5pm with forty-five minutes paid lunch break that you can take between noon and 2pm."

The hours were long, but you had already signed up your sons for their school's breakfast club every morning, as well as a different extra-curricular after school every day. Thankfully apparition would likely mean you would only be a minute or two late for pick-up.

"When can you start?"

"Immediately," you smiled.

***

While you worked in the department responsible for aurors, you would not be out in the field yourself at any point. You were simply responsible for distributing tasks and filling out and filing the reports after missions. Once upon a time you had wanted to be an auror, but now you had sons who would have no one else if something were to happen to you. You simply couldn't endanger yourself in any way.

The pay of your job was good: good enough to support a family of three and move you out of the one bedroom flat you lived in. You would wait a couple months until you were settled into the job, though, as you still needed to pay off the boys' uniforms and school lunches.

You were sat at your desk on the second day of your job, busy filling out forms for a small mission that had taken place earlier that morning. Ever since Voldemort's demise, there hadn't been any large scale missions. You supposed that was a good thing.

"Oh, you're new."

You looked up in surprise to see the Boy Who Lived stood before you, evidently having just returned from a mission as an auror.

He gave you an awkward smile, "Harry Potter."

You nodded mindlessly with your mouth slightly agape, before coming to your senses and saying, "Y/N. Y/N L/N."

"Nice to meet you."

"You too."

"How long have you worked here?"

"It's my second day."

"Wow, so you're, like, brand new?"

"I... I guess?"

"Let me know if you need anythi-"

"Potter," your supervisor's voice rang out, "My office."

"Shit, sorry, I have a mission debrief to give, we'll talk later?" he said, somewhat hopefully.

"Yeah, later..." you trailed off, staring after him as he walked to the office.

***

It was the end of the day, and you were packing up your belongings ready for your departure at exactly five o'clock.

"Y/N," a person called.

You turned around to see Harry Potter stood before you once more.

"Sorry I didn't have a chance to catch up with you after earlier," he said, "But, uh, do you think... do you think maybe we could go for a drink? It's important to have friends at work, after all."

You were in shock, but still answered, "I'd love to, really - but I have places to be today, I'm afraid."

"Tomorrow night, then?"

"I'm busy then too," you said apologetically.

"Okay, then when are you free?"

Great, now you were going to sound like a massive dick. "Rarely, unfortunately, I have a... chaotic family, you see."

"Right, well... see you tomorrow then."

Yep. He definitely thought you were making up excuses.

***

"I'm not too late, am I?" you asked the teacher that had been supervising the football club your sons had been attending.

"No, the other last kid just left moments ago," he smiled at you.

"Oh, thank Helga," you said without thinking.

The man frowned at your exclamation, but didn't say anything about it.

"Matty, Eric, are you boys ready to go?" you turned to your sons, who both nodded tiredly at you. Your heart dropped at how much the long day wore them out.

You led them around the corner from the primary school until you were out of sight from others, where you apparated to outside your small apartment. Upon entering, you gazed at the cramped space: you couldn't wait to upgrade to a bigger one.

"What's for dinner, mama?" your youngest, Eric, asked.

"I'll cook some pasta, yeah? And then I'll read you a story."

You couldn't fail them. They had to have a different life to you.

***

You didn't see Harry Potter at work again for the next two weeks, as he had been sent on a slightly larger auror mission abroad. But, when he did return, you ran into him almost instantly.

"How was the mission?" you asked immediately.

"Fine," he said dismissively, "Look, I'm sorry for asking you for drinks last time, you clearly didn't want to-"

"No, it's not that I don't want to," you said quickly.

"You don't have to lie to be nice, I shouldn't have asked something like that so soon after meeting you."

You sighed, "I'm not lying, I really am just an exceptionally busy person."

"Busy with what exactly?"

"I- I can't talk about it."

"You-"

That was when the ringing of your mobile phone cut through the air, making you jump slightly. You took the tiny flip phone out of your pocket and exhaled harshly at the sight of who it was. This was exactly why you had bothered getting a phone as a witch, you had just hoped it wouldn't happen so soon

"Sorry, I have to take this."

You began walking away as you answered.

"Hello, Y/N L/N speaking."

"Hello, this is Emily from St Andrew's Primary School," the woman on the other end spoke, "I'm calling on behalf of your son, Eric."

"What happened?"

"He... exhibited peculiar behaviour during a lesson today."

"Why? What did he do?"

"He made a classmate float in the air."

Your breath hitched, "That's not possible."

"I assure you, I'm being quite honest."

"Is this a prank call?" you asked. You knew it wasn't.

You didn't want the Ministry to find out you had enrolled wizards into muggle school. It was advised against for a reason, as they had enough on their plates when it came to dealing with the chaos muggle-borns caused. But, they would have already detected the use of improper magic and sent people to deal with it.

"I-"

"Y/N L/N," a man to your left said.

"If you excuse me," you spoke to the caller, hanging up. They would just think you still thought them a prankster. "Yes?"

"Simon Periwink of the Improper Use of Magic sector, can you come with me please?"

You sighed, "Is this regarding my son?"

He nodded.

"Lead the way."

***

"So as you seem to know, your son, Eric L/N, has caused a bit of a conundrum in a muggle school," Simon said, sat behind his desk with crescent moon glasses perched on his nose, "Now, he is a child, so obviously he will not be facing any consequences for this action. However, I am obliged to ask, why is he in a muggle school?"

"I don't have a choice, sir."

"Just Simon is fine- elaborate, please."

"I'm a single mother to two boys. My family abandoned me after my first pregnancy and my boyfriend upped and left during my second," you explained, although you didn't want to talk about it, "I can't afford childcare - muggle school is free and my only option."

Simon hummed, flicking through pieces of parchment, "I see. Well, I won't prevent this then - thanks to muggle-borns, we're well equipped to deal with these situations. Please, though, talk to your sons about this."

"Yes, sir- Simon. Thank you."

"We also have many support systems in place in the ministry to aid people in similar situations to yourself. Please consider looking into them."

"I will, thank you again."

"No worries - I suppose you should go and pick up your son for now."

You nodded.

***

By the time you arrived at the primary school, you saw that members of the ministry were already there - and, to your horror, Harry Potter.

He quickly spotted you, and raised a confused eyebrow.

"Y/N, what are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of y-"

"Mama!" your son, evidently in tears, called out. He ran from the ministry member that was comforting him into your arms; you didn't hesitate to pick up your son.

Harry watched as the situation unfolded, piecing everything together in his head, before saying, "They were a member short in the improper use department, so I offered to fill in. Is this your son?"

You hummed, rocking the sobbing boy about.

"I didn't know you were-" he cut himself off, "If I had, I wouldn't have asked you out."

You sighed, "I am single."

"Oh."

"Sorry for hurting your feelings, but I think I need to go pick my other son up too," you said, "Please don't mention this to anyone."

He showed his agreement through an absent-minded nod.

"Bye."

He stared after you as you walked away.

***

After a long chat with both of your sons about resorting to muggle methods in the face of problems instead of magic methods, you reluctantly returned to work the next day, dreading the next interaction between you and Harry Potter. Why was a literal celebrity even working a normal day job anyway?

Taking in a deep breath, you sat down at your desk to begin working your way through the stack of paperwork your manager had already left for you. Just when you had almost forgotten about the man who now knew your biggest work secret, you heard a cough for attention coming from in front of you.

You looked up and saw the exact person you didn't want to see.

"Hey, I just wanted to check up on you after... yesterday."

"Why?"

He seemed taken aback by your response, "Well, you know, I... care about you?"

"You hardly know me," you said pointedly.

"And I would like to change that."

"Potter!" a voice called from the hallway, "Where are you?"

"Coming!" he replied, giving a lingering glance to you but realising you were already focused on your work again.

You felt mean, and you thought he was cute, you just didn't want him to get attached to the mess that you were.

***

"L/N, I need you to stay late today to discuss your progress," your manager said to you later that day, "Don't worry, it's nothing negative."

"Late? Respectfully, I can't do overtime."

"It's hardly overtime. Half an hour, maximum."

"Yes, but-"

"What plans do you have that are so important you must leave exactly at five o'clock?" she raised an eyebrow at you.

"I-" you froze. Should you be honest?

"Y/N," Harry Potter.

You turned away from your manager to the man, pleased at the distraction.

"I can take care of the errand you need to run," he said simply, "It's no bother."

"You can't-"

"Well, it's settled then," your manager smiled, "See you at five in my office."

Once she had walked away, you turned to Harry with a scowl.

"I could've handled that myself!"

"You clearly don't want to admit to the situation," he shrugged, "I'll go pick up your boys, don't worry."

You sighed, "I'll have to call the school to let them know."

"No worries, where should I take them? Back to yours?"

"No!" you quickly said, a little too quickly.

"I'm not gonna judge your living quarters, Y/N."

"Just- I... fine. Fine. Take them back to mine. I'll write down the address for you."

As you handed the paper over, you admitted defeat.

"Thank you, Harry, for this."

"It's my pleasure."

***

You were severely hoping that you hadn't made a stupid decision in trusting Harry with your most prized jewels. He had to be trustworthy, you reasoned, he risked his own life to save the entire world from a horrible and cruel man, after all. As you reached the door to your flat, you took a deep breath before knocking twice. You had given the key to Harry earlier on.

The door quickly flung open to reveal the Boy Who Lived with Eric on his shoulders, who was giggling in a manner you had never seen him before.

"Mama!" he exclaimed, along with his brother, who was by Harry's leg.

"I must admit, I'm normally bad with children," he said as you hugged Matty in greeting.

"Coulda fooled me," you replied, entering the flat.

"Right, I'll get going then-"

Your boys both began complaining, Matty even running from your arms to cling on to Harry's leg again.

You sighed, looking up at the man, "Stay for dinner?"

***

Somewhere along the way, after helping you put your sons to bed, an old bottle of fire whiskey in the back of your cupboard had been cracked open and you were sat on the sofa with Harry Potter, drunker than him because you hadn't had the chance to drink in years.

"Do you really do this all by yourself?" he eventually asked, after a laughing fit from the both of you.

"Do what?"

"Everything. Work, chores, raising your sons. Do you have no help at all?"

You shook your head, "Their father took off during my second pregnancy, haven't heard from him since. As you can tell, I was young when I first fell pregnant, so neither of our families wanted anything to do with us."

"But- no friends?"

"I used to have friends," you sighed, "But I kinda lost them when I started dating Derran. He isolated me a lot. Never had the chance to remake them."

He hummed, "I'm sorry that happened to you - really. I'm happy to be your first friend."

You smiled.

"And more, if you'll let me."

"Really? Thing One and Thing Two haven't put you off?"

He chuckled, "No, not yet, they haven't."

"I don't know if I have the time for dating," you said, picking at your fingernails, "I'm struggling to keep all my plates spinning as it is."

"I understand that dating you would mean a lot of time with the boys."

"Really? Do you? We'd have no date nights."

"I'm prepared to make that sacrifice."

"I don't think you are," you said simply, "Anyway, this has been fun, but I should really get to bed. Are you good to get home or should I-"

"I'm fine to get home, don't worry about me," he said, standing up.

And as you showed him out the door, shutting it behind him, he paused and turned back to look at the spot where he just saw you, meanwhile you rested your back against the wooden frame on the other side, feeling a painful longing in your chest.

***

Saturday morning started like it normally did: a later start with both your boys waking up in your arms. It was as routine up until you all entered the main room ready for breakfast.

A knock arrived on the door.

You frowned, and told the boys to sit at the table before heading over and peering through the peephole. To your surprise, you saw Harry stood patiently outside. Opening the door, you questioned his presence with a simple furrowing of your eyebrows, when you caught sight of the bags he was holding either side of him.

"I hope I'm not here too early," he said, taking in your pyjama-clad presence.

"No- no... we just weren't expecting you," you replied, allowing him in.

"Harry!" your boys called, running over to cling to his legs.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," he shrugged, placing the bags on the kitchen counter, "Hello, Eric, Matty."

"A surprise?"

He hummed, "I brought some basic foods- including ingredients for chocolate chip pancakes."

Eric and Matty cheered.

"That's sweet but- but we don't need handouts."

"Then don't think of it as one," he said simply, "This is simply a man doing something for the woman he has romantic interest in."

You sighed, unable to stop a smile from creeping on to your face.

"Are you our new dad?" Eric asked, making you snap your head in his direction.

Harry was evidently at a loss for words.

"I've always wanted a dad," Matty added. Despite having been alive for when your ex-boyfriend was still around, he had no memory of him. Not that the memories would have been good ones, anyway.

"It depends if your mum lets me date her or not," Harry stated.

"Mama, please!"

"Please, mama!"

"I don't think you know us well enough to make a commitment," you said to Harry, ignoring your sons for the time being.

"Yeah, because you won't let me get to know you," he argued, but without malice, "Is it so hard to believe I genuinely want this?"

"Yeah, it is," you said, "After-" you nodded your head towards the boys, communicating your reference to their father.

"Let me prove it to you," Harry said, to both you and the boys, "What say after breakfast, we head to Diagon Alley and make a day of it?"

The boys began cheering, though you knew all too well they had no idea what Diagon Alley was.

You pulled Harry aside and began whispering, "I've never taken them there. I don't want to get their hopes up by seeing all the things in the shops and not being able to get any of it."

"I'm paying," he reassured you, "For anything they want- that you approve of, of course."

"But-"

"No buts. I told you, I'm proving this to you."

You sighed, admitting defeat, "Okay. Fine."

"Now, let's get the pancakes on," he announced loudly.

***

You watched your sons excitedly run around Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, unable to take the smile off your face. Part of you was overjoyed that they were finally getting some experience of a normal wizardly childhood; the other part of you was upset that it wasn't really you that had provided the experience.

"I think they like the place," Harry said from his place next to you, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"I've never seen them so happy."

"Don't think you're a failure as a mother or anything," he added, "You're far from it."

You smiled, "I know I'm doing my best, but they deserve more."

He didn't reply to that statement, instead wrapping his arm around your shoulder in a comforting gesture.

Maybe, just maybe, you should let him in.

***

After that day, things fell into a new routine. Any day that Harry wasn't on an auror mission, he would show up at your flat with dinner ingredients not long after you had gotten home with your sons. Together, you would cook the meal, and then sit and eat. On Saturdays, he would take you and the boys somewhere for the day, always insisting on paying if there was an associated cost. He had even on one Sunday insisted that he babysit the boys so you could get your first bit of lone time in years. You had treated yourself to some rest and relaxation in a spa.

You had become very comfortable with his presence, but at there same time there was this constant tension between the two of you, like something was going to snap at any given moment. You almost wanted it to.

It was after dinner one night, and you were putting Eric and Matty to bed with Harry, just having finished reading their bedtime story.

"Goodnight, my loves," you said, kissing each of their heads, and tucking them in, "I'll be here to join you shortly."

"Night, mama."

"Goodnight, mama."

"Goodnight, boys," Harry said, "I should hopefully be here again tomorrow."

"Goodnight," your eldest, Matty, said tiredly.

"Night night, dad," your youngest, Eric, mumbled.

You stilled in shock, but didn't say anything since he was drifting off to sleep, instead glancing at Harry to gage his reaction. He had a slight smile on his face, which admittedly filled you with a sense of warmth. Nonetheless, when you were back in the kitchen charming the dishes to begin washing, you decided to talk about it.

"Thank you, Harry."

"For what?"

"Everything you have done for us the last few weeks," you said, "And I'm sorry Eric called you dad."

"I don't mind," he quickly said, "But I understand if you mind."

"I don't mind... but I don't want them to get hurt."

Next thing you knew, Harry's hand was on yours, "I'm not leaving."

"That's an easy thing to say."

"Y/N, I-" he cut himself off, pausing for a moment to think, "Have dinner at my house on Saturday - bring the boys, obviously."

You frowned, "Are you sure?"

"I'm always sure."

You couldn't help but chuckle at that, "Okay, we'll be there."

***

On Saturday evening, you apparated outside Harry's cottage in Godric's Hollow with your sons holding a hand either side of you. This was your first time seeing his house, and it was absolutely gorgeous: large, too. From what he had told you, he had been born in this house, but it was also where his parents had died tragically.

You let Eric and Matty run ahead to knock on the front door, which was a classic medieval-style shape. All too quickly, it swung open to reveal Harry dressed up in dress trousers and a button up shirt, with the top button left undone. You were glad that you had opted for a more dressed up look yourself - you had gotten the feeling that this was a fancier occasion than usual.

"Hello, boys," he greeted your sons, hugging both of them before standing up straight, "And, hello, Y/N." He seemed even more awkward than normal, making you confused.

He beckoned you all in and through to the dining room, where a delicious spread was billowing steam throughout the room.

"I wish I could take full credit- Molly helped quite a bit," you knew Molly to be his best friend's mother, "But I wanted this to be perfect."

"Why?" you asked, "I mean- it is, but why?"

"Because it's for you," he said.

You held prolonged and tension-filled eye contact with him for a few moments, before your attention was diverted by your boys jumping about excitedly.

"I think they're hungry," Harry laughed, "Sit down, sit down."

You all sat around the table, and you scolded your sons for not showing good manners and trying to dig in right away.

"Not to make you wait too much longer, boys, but I would like to say something first," Harry said, taking in a deep breath, "When I first met you, Y/N, I thought you wanted nothing to do with me- because you rejected me."

You chuckled.

"And that was quite a blow to my ego, so it was certainly relieving to learn that it wasn't me that was the problem- not that there really was a problem. You are simply an amazingly independent woman who didn't want people to know about her two incredible sons, for some insane reason," he said with a grin, making your cheeks heat up, "And I know it's hard for you to accept that I genuinely do want to be with you given everything you've been through."

You started to get a feeling of what was about to happen.

"And I know that being with you means being with your sons as well," he continued, "But I need you to know that it's far from a chore for me to take them in as my own - so, I have to ask, even though it may seem too soon, will you marry me?"

Tears pricked at your eyes as Matty and Eric gasped, them both being old enough to understand what marriage meant.

"You'll be our dad?" Eric asked, his eyes shining hopefully.

"Well, if your mum says yes."

"Mama, please say yes!" your youngest begged.

His older brother joined in, "Please, mama!"

"Okay," you said, sniffling, "I'll marry you, Harry Potter."

It was then, as Matty and Eric were cheering about having a dad, that Harry pushed a small velvet box across the table, and you opened it to reveal a yellow gold band with a ruby stone set in the centre.

"It's- it's beautiful."

Harry beamed at you as you put it on and admired its place on your ring finger.

"Can we eat now?" Matty asked.

"Yes, yes, we can eat," you said through happy sobs.

"And, after dinner, you two can pick your new bedrooms."

Your eyes widened in shock as Matty exclaimed, "We get our own bedrooms?!"

—————————————————

masterlist

written; 01/05/2023 —> 05/06/2023 published; 06/06/2023 edited; —/—/——

taglist ; @workinatdapyramid @iluvweasleys

[slaymitchabernathy]

Red

“I don’t like that color.”

Coriolanus sighs at the snippy tone. He’s gotten used to it over the years, how she still tries to poke at him, push his buttons, fight him on every decision.

She’ll learn one day.

“I always paint them this color darling,” he reminds her with a tone all too gentle for the way she just addressed him. But he’s patient with his girl. For the most part.

“None of my friends paint their toes red anymore. Now it’s pink.”

Coriolanus raises his eyebrows as he continues to paint even, red strokes of polish onto his girlfriend’s toes, acting as if he’s so interested in what her silly little friends are doing.

He’s met some of her friends. Seen how stupid those girls are, their boyfriends too. All so bubbly and not at all driven.

“Then you’ll be extra special,” he says, finishing with her left foot. It’s a good thing Coriolanus doesn’t mind feet. Not that he actively seeks them out, but he doesn’t mind his girlfriend’s small feet. Not when he gets little moments like this with her. And she giggles whenever he tickles her feet too, so that’s nice.

Soarynn huffs but doesn’t say anything in reply. He’s glad. He’s had a long day at work. He never thought such a domestic task would bring him such serenity, but for some reason, he truly enjoys painting his girlfriend’s toes.

It all happened on a whim. The nail salon she normally frequented got closed down—rat infestation— and Soarynn was without a place to get her pedicures.

Coriolanus being the economic man he was offered to paint her toes for her. It was a bit of a joke at first, what could he possibly know about painting toenails? But he knew how to make things work, how to overcome and adapt.

He was a Snow after all. And he’d been through a lot in his younger years, survived a lot, learned a lot.

Soarynn preferred white toenails at the time but he’s convinced her to go with red. It would be a one-time thing anyway. But then it turned into every once in a while until every three weeks Coriolanus Snow was painting his girlfriend’s toes.

In a way it was embarrassing. Here he was, the powerful Coriolanus Snow hunched over while his girlfriend placed her feet in his lap. But he didn’t mind. He did it out of love. And pride. But mostly love.

None of Soarynn’s friends had boyfriends who were as dedicated as he was to her. None of those sorry excuses for men were willing to come home after a long day of work and do something as tedious as this. But here he was.

“What did you do today while I was at work, my love?” He asks, gently taking her other foot and placing it on his knee. He’s learned to be more gentle over the years because of her, more kind, to smile more.

He’s usually so focused on the task at hand that he barely spares her a glance but he looks up at her just this once to truly admire the piece of work Soarynn Nightingale is.

Her head is tilted while she thinks. It’s cute. How she probably did two things today but has to think so hard about them. He likes that about her, how utterly clueless and dumb his girl can be sometimes. She’s smart when she wants to be. When she wants to run that mouth of hers.

“Well I woke up around ten,” she starts.

Coriolanus woke up at six. Like he does every day, six days a week. He wakes up to his alarm and rolls onto his back, wondering why he had to go and be so ambitious with his work.

He slips out of bed, showers, does his morning routine before putting on the clothes he picked out the night before. He sprays on some cologne before leaving the bathroom. All that’s left is to say goodbye.

Soarynn is always fast asleep. Her blonde head of hair peeking out from under the thick duvet covers. He presses a kiss to her forehead before leaving for work. Then she wakes up four hours later.

“Then I got lunch with Clemmie around one, maybe one-thirty.”

At one-thirty Coriolanus was in his fifth meeting of the day, buried in spreadsheets and concerns about the District’s production quotas.

“Oh and then I did a little shopping. Not too much I swear.”

Coriolanus smiles to himself as he paints even strokes on all five of her toes. As spoiled as she can be—which is his own doing—Soarynn is always careful when handling his money. He appreciates that about her. How she knows it’s his, not hers. That plastic card he gave her is a privilege and it can be taken away.

He never takes it away though.

He likes seeing her spend his money. Remembering when he had none makes him more proud to see his girlfriend carting around handfuls of bags all filled with frivolous nonsense. It makes her happy though. If that counts for something.

Her card is red.

He gave it to her on her twentieth birthday. She’d been so excited, jumping up and down and kissing him silly. He likes taking care of his girl, fixing all her problems. And goodness does she have a lot of problems. They’re all so easy to fix. The sink is leaking, she can’t find her favorite pair of heels, the restaurant she always goes to doesn’t have any available tables for her and her friends.

All such simple, elementary problems that he solves with the wave of his hand.

He calls the plumber who arrives in twenty minutes. Because when you’re a Snow, people tend to bend to your beck and call. He buys her ten new pairs of heels, all the same style as her favorites, but a variety of colors. He knows the owner of the restaurant who happily moves some people around until his girl and her friends have the best table in the house.

It’s easy to make Soarynn happy. And when she’s happy, he’s happy.

Because Coriolanus Snow isn’t a good man when he’s mad.

He sees red when he’s mad.

Soarynn’s only witnessed it a handful of times. Seen how mad he can really get, how mean and aggressive he becomes.

He thinks it’s a good thing though. She knows not to test him. Not to push him.

So when he insists on painting her toenails red, she doesn’t argue with him for long.

That’s when she’s smart, uses her senses, her charms.

It’s probably because she remembers the one time she got in his way, made him more upset, pushed him too far.

She remembers that night. How he yelled, how he pushed her, how he grabbed her.

They both saw the same color that night.

It’s the same color they’re seeing right now on her toes. The same color they don’t talk about even though it sits in the back of their minds. In a way it leads them to both despise the color due to the nasty memory it brings up.

But they don’t talk about it.

How it always seems to lead to red.

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝙏𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙮𝙘𝙡𝙚

Cw: fluff, poly!fem!reader x Pavitr Prabhakar x Gayatri Singh

Part two: Y/N and Gayatri meet Gwen, Miles and Hobie

>You were Gayatri's best friend

>Have you ever seen those two girls who cannot be separated for the life of them? The ones that do every school project together? The ones that feed each other at lunch while giggling? The ones that are always wearing matching bff necklaces or rings? Ok, those best friends

>And everyone knew you and Gayatri were a package deal, if she made a new friend, they were your friend too, if you made one, it was hers too, if someone gave the other weird vibes, then you would minimize contact with them

>You were attached at the hip since middle school

>You remember the first time you decided to put makeup on, you took your mom's makeup kit and Gayatri used all the knowledge she gathered from 2010's youTube makeup tutorials to apply it on you, you did the same. It looked patchy, you didn't powder, and used awful toned shades, but it was enough for you and for her (every photo belonging to that time period has been purposefully destroyed)

>Your friendship with Gayatri always seemed perfectly normal to you, it was all just girls being girls, admiring her for afar, loving her (platonically!!!111!!!11!!!!) more than anything you've ever known, feeling at home when she hugged you and you could smell her hair, thinking no one else in this world could understand you like she does, getting mad when boys flirted with her (they're not good enough for your friend!!!)

>just girls being girls

>"I'm glad you didn't go out with Akshay, he looks nice, but I heard he's a flirt" Gayatri stated while putting on mascara in the school bathroom, you mindlessly fixed your hair

>There had been a handful of boys who would leave notes in your lockers, or timidly offer to walk one of you home, but most often than not, they were met with rejection, from picky excuses, to the classic "my dad won't let me date"

>It happened a couple times, but the boyfriends wouldn't last more than a week before you simply decided there was no spark, and ran to each other's house to gossip about it

>"I'm giving up on boys, none of them understand me, or treat me that good, they're so weird" Gayatri complained and paused to bring another spoonful of kulfi to her mouth "You make me feel better than any boy anyway, maybe you're my prince charming" she laughed angelically, bright eyes and her lips glossed over with some lipstick and some remains of the frozen treat you were sharing. That happened some time ago, and even though she laughed, she didn't accept anyone else after that, but she was just joking, right?

>You were sure there wasn't a force in the universe that could separate you from your best friend, even her family loved you as one of their own, there was nothing to be done

>Until you locked eyes with a guy that bumped into you in the hallways

>You stared at him and heard him mutter an apology, but you were too busy scanning all his features to register what was happening

>The mystery boy was a transfer student that started going to your class

>His name was Pavitr, and you would sometimes speak to him, he lived closer to you than Gayatri did, so after you got to her house in the walk after school, there was a solid 10 minutes you had alone with Pavitr

>He was so energetic and joyful, you didn't want to admit you liked him, but there was only so much hotness in you cheeks one could attribute to the spring sun in Mumbattan

>Gayatri was friends with him too, he was just as happy go-lucky as he was with you, you liked that he didn't make neither of you feel excluded from conversations or inside jokes, would he be the same way if you two ever got to date?

>The fantasy of dating Pavitr felt weird, incomplete, you couldn't leave your bestie behind like that! Yes, friends get in relationships, but you weren't just friends, you were best friends forever, super extra duper close friends, soulmate friends!

>But your fantasies came crushing down when she told you "Pavitr's so cute, you know? He's so different from the others, I think I like him, like, like-like him"

>Pavitr Prabhakar was off limits now, you shouldn't even look at him now

>You wouldn't throw the most important friendship you've ever had out of the window for a boy, even if that boy was pretty, the prettiest, and he was kind, and funny, and outgoing, and could light up the whole city with a smile

>sucks to be you, I guess

>a few weeks after that, they started dating, and you wanted to be happy for them, you wanted to be SO BADLY HAPPY, but you felt abandoned, jealous, and so sad

>You had to admit an ugly feeling always boiled in your stomach when Gayatri went on a date, or someone was clearly head over heels for her, but that was because they weren't good enough

>But Pavitr was good enough, he was the best guy, the only man you'd ever trust to date your friend, but the feeling remained

>a little less angry and more sad, but still remained

>They were still close to you, invited you to all their dates, that they would call group hangouts, but you could tell were dates

>At first it was fun, but you always lowered your gaze or pretend to do something else when they hugged, or kissed

>After every kiss, they would both exchange a look with you, but then look away and say something to break the ice, by their eyes, you could tell they were ashamed or saddened, maybe they didn't want to leave you behind and pitied you

>So you stopped going out with them when it clearly was a date, only showing up if there was more people, or if you saw them individually

>"wanna go to the movies w us tomorrow? :)" -Gayatri

>"too busy:/ got homework to catch up on" -you

>"dw luv, I can go your to place and help you w it" -Gayatri

>"ur a bad influence, I'll get distracted" -you

>"true" -Gayatri

>No, you didn't have homework, but seeing your crush and you best friend being cheesy was not the weekend plan you were looking forward to

>When you walked next to Pav, you were stiff and quiet instead of your normal self, he was your friend, but it felt so bad when you could hear your heart beating faster for a boy who was taken, taken by your favorite person in the world

>"I hope Gayatri got better from her allergies, I haven't seen her since last week" Pav said, hoping to break the ice

>"Didn't you go to the movies on Saturday?" You questioned

>"Oh, you couldn't go, it's not the same if it's not the three of us" he answered like it was the most natural thing in the world

>Was really your third wheeling so great to them that they cancelled a date because you weren't there?

>You thought about that for weeks, and wondered how many times it happened since you started to avoid them

>Today Gayatri behaved weird, no one else noticed, but you knew her like the back of your hand,

>She told you she needed you to go to her house after school, it was important

>You didn't push the subject, since she clearly wanted to discuss it in privacy

>A million possibilities ran through you head as you walked to her house, you were scared

>When you came into her room, Pavitr was there, why didn't she tell you? You thought it was a rude thing to do, but she was clearly in distress so you tried to not be so quick to judge

> You sat next to her on the bed, and saw how both of them interchanged nervous looks, Gayatri started speaking, not as nervous as her boyfriend, but still

>"I- I got something to tell you, well, I have a- Pavitr has a crush on you"

>"...What?!" You looked so offended right now, A crush? On you? On someone else? When he was dating the prettiest most amazing girl in the world?! If you were dating Gayatri you would never, ever-

>"It's okay! It's not like that, I like you too!" Her voice interrumpted your mental rambling. Ok, this got way more confusing "I knew I loved you, but I didn't want to ruin our friendship, and when I started liking Pavitr I thought it was over, that we'd go back to being friends, but it felt awkward when you weren't around, and it felt like cheating when we spent time alone"

> Pavitr started "Gayatri is really so amazing, and I love her so much, but I love you so much too, and I thought it wasn't right to her, so I wanted to break up, but she had the same issue. I guess the thing we want to say is, would you give us a chance?" He flashed that charming smile to you, and paired with Gayatri's love-filled gaze, you almost melted

>Of course you liked her, you were so oblivious, that explains literally everything you have ever questioned about your dynamic with her, but maybe you were scared too

>"I'd love to" you shyly responded and held their hands

>Maybe not all relationships have just two wheels, maybe tricycles are thrice as fun

[fandomrose]

Neuvillette post 4.2 reverse comfort.

—————————————————

This fic is canon compliant. Almost character study-esque.

Friend's to almost lovers

I believe that post 4.2 he would begin opening himself up more to humanity and therefore would begin to consider romance even if he could lose them to time.

There will be some spoilers but they are more implied than anything.

I kept it Gender neutral and as appearance and trait neutral as I could as such it should be friendly to most.

Anyway please enjoy. 💙

The clean-up and relief efforts post-prophecy were almost complete and Fontaine was almost back to functioning like normal. You were aiding some of the maison gardinale melusines with cleaning up the inside of the Palais Mermonia, a commission you were taking on as a Fontaine-based adventurer. 

At around midday Lady Furina arrived at the Palais and immediately went to see Monsieur Neuvillette. Not an odd sight but the expression on her face and her complete lack of acknowledgement of anyone else's presence was odd. Whatever it was that she was seeing Neuvillette about, it was serious. 

Worry pricked the back of your mind for the few hours that she was in Monsieur Neuvillette's office for. If Sedine noticed your mild distress she never mentioned it, just giving you an extra slice of cake for lunch. It was around lunch that rain started to fall steadily from the sky. You and Neuvillette weren't the closest of companions but you had a pleasant enough relationship with the man. It could be said that you were one of the people he had allowed himself to get close to. He and Lady Furina were on your mind the entirety of your hired time.

When it came time for the end of your shift Lady Furina finally emerged looking exhausted and you swore you could see a couple of tear tracks run down her cheeks as she briskly walks through the Palais office. You wonder in the back of your mind if you should check on her but before you can make up your mind Sedine approaches.

"Um hello, I was wondering if you have the time to take this water to Monsieur Neuvillette? I know it is the end of your contracted time with us today but ah,-" She gestures to a waterproof box labelled 'pyro treated Mondstadt spring water.' It looked far too heavy for a Melusine to carry. 

"Ah Sedine of course I can. Don't worry about it." You pick up the box, struggling with the weight a little, there is quite the volume of water. I guessed a stressed Neuvillette craved fresh spring water. You nod to Sedine before approaching Monsieur Neuvillette's office. Sudden nerves overtake you as you remember Lady Furinas visit. You take a deep breath and knock on the door gently with your foot.

"You may enter." Monsieur Neuvillette answered the knock and you push the door open gently with the same foot you knocked with. He sounded tired as well though that was unsurprising, as far as you were aware he was almost single-handedly trying to lead Fontaine in the relief efforts. 

"Hello Monsieur I was asked to bring this to you- 'pyro-treated spring water from Mondstadt.'" 

Neuvillette looked up from his desk and relaxed a little upon seeing you there. "Ah hello, thank you for bringing that to me, please just rest it on one of the benches." His voice sounded strained and tired as he spoke, a far cry from how put together he typically sounded.

"Neuvillette-" you began, as you put the box of water down on a bench. Seriously though, why does this man have so many benches and sofas in his office? "-are you alright?" You wince slightly, unused to offering comfort to a stoic man. 

Neuvillette pauses clearly debating whether or not to say anything. You begin to doubt yourself just as Neuvillette, uncharacteristically quiet and hesitant, speaks up. "Could I- trust you with something? It won't be too detailed but- I could use some advice... if you are willing." I note that the rain outside seems to be growing heavier.

"I- of course-" you walk closer and stand by his desk giving him your full attention. 

There were a few moments of silence, Neuvillette clearly debating what so say and how to say it.

"I feel conflicted-" you almost startle at the suddenness of his proclamation, staying silent you just listen. "I understand my function and my duties, I understand Furina and her need for a rest after all of this and I understand what we must do for Fontaine to prosper once again." He pauses again deep in contemplation at how to say what he wants to say. "I understand why this happened and why- certain things I cannot say had to happen but. Even in this understanding I feel grief at this turn of events. Everyone is safe and Furina is free to live a normal life, I understand my position and I am whole. By all accounts I have everything I wanted and yet I cannot bring myself to be happy." 

You feel stunned, you have never seen Neuvillette like this, the rain was coming down like it did on the day of the Great flood. And there were tears? Yes tears, screaming down his cheeks. He didn't even seem to notice them. The next words out of his mouth break your heart a little. "Why? I don't understand."

After a mere moment's hesitation you step around his desk and stand before him, the action grabbing his attention. You lift your hands to hover over his cheeks. "May I?" You whisper. Neuvillette looks a little confused but nods anyway. You place your hands on his cheeks and wipe his tears. He seemingly unconsciously leaned into your touch

"I don't, and can't know the extent of these feelings as I don't have all of the information but, it sounds like you are grieving. Not to mention the built up stress that the prophecy has caused you. And I can assume that the conversation with Furina was not a pleasant one?" 

He simply shook his head sadly, taking your hands away from his face. He looked like he wanted something but couldn't figure out what. You pause and open your arms, again he hesitates, confused, but steps into your embrace and gingerly wraps his arms around your shoulders, you feel him tremble slightly. He is likely unused to physical contact. 

You open your mouth to speak again but Neuvillette beats you to it. "I just don't understand why this time is different. My chest hurts when I think about it and my head starts to ache. And I know the rain is causing trouble for everyone, we are trying to dry Fontaine, not drown it again." 

"Um- I know this may be a controversial statement but I don't think you need to understand emotions, and why you are feeling them, in order to feel them in the first place. Just let yourself feel, catharsis is good for the soul. Or so they say." 

Neuvillette pulls back from your embrace looking conflicted again. "Catharsis hmm." Neuvillette looks out the window frowning at the sight of the rain. Your gaze follows his. Silence again but a question that follows something he said earlier pops into your mind.

"Neuvillette..? Why would the rain be your fault?" 

Neuvillettes gaze turns to you again. He sighs ".. you know don't you?" 

You definitely had your suspicions, you've been around him when it's raining enough to make connections but consequence is not causation and you thought it was silly at the time, even with his long life. But his response..

"You are the hydro dragon aren't you Neuvillette."

"Yes," He said simply and easily, as if admitting that was the easiest thing he'd done all day. You couldn't bring yourself to be surprised it made too much sense.

"I see, that makes sense" was your own equally simple response. 

Things went quiet again but it was still raining, lighter but still raining. "Neuvillette, what do you think about what I said? About 'not needing to understand' and 'catharsis'?" 

"Wouldn't understanding emotions make it easier to feel and express them?"

"Not even regular people understand emotions or why they happen. A lot of the time they 'think' they do though. And there is nothing wrong with that we all have things we don't understand, and yet we push through and do it anyway. You didn't understand why you were asked to be Iudex but you still did your duty. So why is a lack of understanding stopping you from experiencing the emotions you feel?"

"... I don't know how to answer that. Truthfully I don't know myself." 

"How about we stop trying to use our brains for now? We can just feel, let yourself have time to grieve Neuvillette. If you are worried about the rain.. well there will be less rain in the long run if you let your emotions run their course now." 

Neuvillette looked down at his hands that were resting on his cane then back up at the window. "How do I do that?" 

"Think of what was upsetting you and let it run through your mind. Don't will those thoughts away, just let it happen." 

"... can I hold you again?" 

"You can.” Neuvillette dismissed his cane and almost fell into your arms. You could feel him trembling again as you watched the rain get heavier. You almost unconsciously started rubbing his back as he quietly cried into your shoulder.

You get the sense that while the saying is 'hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't cry' that this hydro dragon has not yet actually cried. You lose track of time at how long he embraces you but eventually the sky clears. Night has fallen and the moon and stars almost appear to shine brighter.

I feel Neuvillette take a large shaky breath before he removes himself from your arms once more. 

"Thank you. You really are a wonderful person." Neuvillette's voice was tired but he did sound slightly more relaxed. You find your face heating slightly at his words, feeling unused to such praise from him.

"It's not a wonderful trait to be there for someone you care about. It's only natural." 

"Hmm I suppose but that doesn't stop you from being a wonderful person with wonderful traits." 

The bluntness of his words only seemed to heat your cheeks further. You say nothing as you take up a spot next to him looking at the clear sky. A new closeness between the two of you that you can only imagine what could happen between you next.

[namorslutfanfiction]

You and Tenoch get stuck in an elevator together. Make it kind of fun and fluffy please.

TBH this is adorable.

Summary: You've only been Tenoch's personal assistant for a year. You recently got dumped and now you're stuck in an Elevator with him and things are getting cozy.

Turned into a little hurt/comfort with a splash of fluff

You held the doors of the elevator open while Tenoch said his last farewells to the production staff. The interview had gone well but had run over time a little and you were eager to move to the next location. Once Tenoch finally walked into the elevator and the doors closed, you took a long breath. Just one more interview for the day and then you could go home and wallow the way you wanted to. Tenoch glanced at you thoughtfully, looking you up and down but you didn't notice.

You shot off a text to his manager who had gone on ahead to prep the next interview. You were never one to complain about the long hours or busy schedule of the rising international star but today had been dragging. You let out a sigh of relief as you leaned up against the back wall of the elevator, letting your head lean back as you closed your eyes.

"If you keep sighing like that a demon will possess you," Tenoch joked, bringing up an old superstition you had heard before. He was standing nearly shoulder to shoulder to you, a habit of his that you had noticed when you first met him. "You've been very quiet recently, y/n."

"Life's been kind of crazy recently, Tenoch," You replied without opening your eyes. You could feel his eyes boring into you but you ignored it. As if on cue the elevator shook and stalled, the light above the floor buttons started to flash. You shared a look with Tenoch as he pushed the emergency button.

"Hello Elevator 4. We have received an alert that the elevator emergency stop was activated. How many patrons are inside?" Came a voice through the speaker.

"There are only two of us, me and my assistant. Did something happen?" Tenoch replied, worry tinging his voice.

"It seems that a failsafe was activated. Our apologies, but it may take awhile to free you. We have to contact the elevator manufacturer to release the failsafe. Just sit tight, you are safe, just stuck," the voice replied calmly before going silent.

"Honestly, fuck today," you groan in frustration before sinking down onto the floor, head in your hands. Your phone was pinging with notifications.

"What's bothering you so much, muchacha?" Tenoch asked with a raised eyebrow. He took off his blazer and hung it on one of the railings before sitting down next to you. Your eyes were still closed so you didn't see the concern in his eyes or how he almost reached out to touch your face but pulled his hand away.

"You are far too calm for this, you know that?" You checked your phone, making sure to send a text to the manager to update her on the situation.

You felt Tenoch lean his arm against yours, "There's nothing I can do but be calm. They said they would be sending help so we just have to wait. I wasn't really in the mood to do that interview anyway."

"Tenoch, this could take hours. The last time I heard about an elevator breakdown, people were stuck for 3 hours," you tried to explain to him the gravity of the situation but he just shrugged his shoulders. He loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves. As always the actor looked damn good in a suit but you knew he wasn't the most comfortable in them.

"Well it's good that I'm stuck in here with this chiquita bonita and not my manager then, isn't it?" Tenoch teased you. He was always throwing you compliments ever since he found out how easily they made you blush.

"Oh shut up. I'm really not in the mood to deal with your silliness," you shut him down.

Tenoch wasn't deterred, "Are you going to tell me what's actually bothering you? You've been acting very closed off for the past few days. You didn't even ask me what I wanted for lunch and forgot to get my extra avocado."

You glanced over at the actor trying to ignore the part of you that thought his pouting was cute. You mumbled a reply before turning away.

"What was that?" Tenoch asked, leaning in.

"He dumped me," you answered.

"What? Aye cabrón. He dumped you? After all the things you've done for him, y/n?" Tenoch was angry on your behalf but you could feel the tears starting up behind you eyes.

"Yes, after everything that ass told me that I was doing too much," you looked up at the ceiling trying to hold back your tears.

You felt Tenoch put his arm around your shoulders and pull you into his side, "Aye, mi amiga. Don't cry."

"I'm not crying over that bastard," You replied as you stubbornly rubbed at your eyes, "I deserve better than that asshat."

Tenoch chuckled softly as he rubbed your arm, still holding you close to his side, "That's my girl. He never deserved you. I told you that before, remember?"

You leaned your head onto his shoulder and sighed again, "yes, I remember. I just thought he would wake up and see me, all of me. But he just didn't care."

"I'm going to sound very old right now, but I do know this from experience. Men will tell you what they are like from the beginning. You can't change them only they can change themselves. I'm not proud of some of the things I did in the past, or some of my old relationships. But I didn't change until I chose to. It's not your fault that he couldn't see how amazing you are, y/n." Tenoch said sincerely.

"Thank you," you felt your heart flutter at his kind words. You both sat there like that for awhile, his arm around you and you leaning into him. He continued to rub your arm in a comforting manner.

Tenoch reached over and took your hand that was closest to him. His tanned hand engulfed your smaller hand as he slowly took a ring off your middle finger. You suppress the tingle that emanated from where he touched your skin. He lifted the ring up to his eye level and examined it for a moment, "He gave you this right?"

You sat up and looked at Tenoch as he fingered the ring thoughtfully, "Yes. I just got so used to wearing it I didn't think about taking it off. It feels weird not having a ring there."

You looked down at your hand, flexing your fingers. You had worn that promise ring religiously for almost two years. Seeing your bare finger reminded you that the man you loved didn't love you anymore. Before you could start tearing up you heard the noise of metal hitting metal and the tinkle of the ring hitting the floor and rolling to a stop. Tenoch had thrown your ring across the elevator like it was a piece of trash. Caught off guard you stared at where the ring landed, debating whether you wanted to pick it up again or not.

Then you felt his fingers under your chin, gently nudging you to look back to him. Tenoch looked you in the eye as he moved his thumb to wipe away the tear that had escaped from the corner of your eye. "You just said you weren't going to cry over him."

You could only nod, feeling like you couldn't move while under his intense gaze. Tenoch pulled you back into his side, hugging you closer. So close you were nearly across his lap. Your tears ceased completely as a blush rose up your neck to your cheeks. You felt his lips graze your temple in a chaste kiss, making your heart skip a beat. Tenoch had always been affectionate with you but this felt different.

"Does it really bother you that your finger is empty of that ring?" Tenoch asked softly. His mouth was practically kissing your outer ear, you were so close to him.

You stuttered your response, "I-I just have to get used to the feeling."

A hum of acknowledgement from the actor preceded him moving his hands around you and pulling off the pinky ring he had on. His hands found your own again and you watched as he nimbly slipped his ring onto your middle finger.

Realizing what he was doing you tried to swat his hands away, "Tenoch, I can't! That's yours."

"Aye que bonita," Tenoch said looking down at the plain gold band around your finger.

"Tenoch, you really don't have to give this to me," you tried to pull your hand away from his but he just laughed.

"I'm not giving it to you," he said bluntly, a smile still on his face as he looked into your eyes.

"Then what are you doing?" You asked, completely confused, forgetting to continue to struggle and instead sitting still next to him.

"I'm loaning it to you. Until you can replace it with a ring from a better man or until I decide to get you your own," he was smiling as he brought your hand up so you both could look at the ring between you.

You paused than smacked his shoulder, "You're such a fucking tease. No wonder you have two baby mamas."

Tenoch caught your hand as you went to smack him for a second time. His laughter burst out and so did yours as you both wrestled for a moment. Finally, regaining control of your own limbs, you sat back against the wall and so did Tenoch. Still close enough that your sides were flush against each other.

"How long has it been?" You asked

You felt Tenoch next to you look at his watch, "Half an hour."

You let out a defeated but amused chuckle, "Fuck me."

"Don't tempt me," Tenoch replied without skipping a beat.

"Such a way with words," you mocked him good naturedly, not minding the impropriety.

It was Tenoch's turn to lean his head on your shoulder, "Aye, y/n, you really don't see me as a man do you?"

"I just got dumped, Tenoch, let a girl wallow before she swallows another dick," you chastised him.

"Now whose the one teasing?" Tenoch nudged you, chuckling to himself. You both sank into a comfortable silence, deep in thought.

"Thank you, Tenoch. For being nice to me even though I let my break up affect my work," you broke the silence, taking his hand.

He squeezed your hand back before looking over at you, "it's life hermosa. Just don't forget my extra avocado next time."

Two hours passed and Tenoch sighed into your hair, pulling you practically on top of him. He had always been the touchy-feely type but there was something about this that felt more intimate. After the break up almost a week ago, you were ashamed to admit that being held so close was something you missed and welcomed.

"You smell good," he mumbled into your hair. A blush was once again invading your face as you felt his firm chest and the cording of his toned arms around you.

"I would hope so, this is that perfume you got me for my birthday," You let yourself sink into his embrace, taking comfort while you still could. It didn't escape you that the more time that passed the closer you were getting to being rescued. Which meant that these intimate moments with Tenoch would soon turn into memories. Your infatuation for him had been hidden the whole time you worked for him. Complete professionalism was your specialty, but it was waning.

"It smells better on you than it did in the store," Tenoch mumbled again as he took another breath in your hair.

You pulled away slightly, "Wait, you actually went to the store yourself to buy my birthday present?"

"Of course I did," Tenoch replied

"I thought you would have just asked your manager to buy it or sent an errand runner," You said as you sat more solidly on the ground.

"Now that would have been insincere. Plus, I had heard you talking about that lotion you loved that was discontinued so I looked up similar scents. This was the best one so I bought it," Tenoch said nonchalantly.

"You're amazing," you blurted out. The blush that had been developing, fully engulfed your face.

He smiled widely and leaned closer to you, "And you're beautiful."

You smacked him again but he caught your wrist and pulled you into him. There was a shift in the air as he leaned his head closer, so close you could see his eye lashes. His eyes flicked between meeting yours and looking at your lips. The breath left your lungs as your heart thrashed in anticipation.

When he spoke his lips grazed the air between you, "Buying your gift personally is what you deserved. Don't ever forget that a man should spoil you and remember the things you like. A real man would never dump a woman who does those same things for him. Whether it's getting him the new shoes he wanted or making sure he gets extra avocado. You deserve love like that."

His pupils were dilated so wide his eyes were almost black and you were losing yourself in them. All you had to do was lean in, a centimeter maybe and you would be able to taste him.

BAM BAM BAM

You leapt apart as the elevator began moving and the emergency light came back on.

"Stay seated until the elevator comes to a stop. The doors will open momentarily and the fire department will want to check you both out. We appreciate your patience and understanding," The voice from the intercom informed you.

The moment was broken and Tenoch sat up and started rolling his sleeves down again. As he put his blazer back on the elevator stopped and the doors slowly opened. Tenoch got up first and turned to help you up. When you took his hand you glanced into his eyes again and saw that they had returned to normal. He gave you a soft smile as he dropped your hand and stepped out of the elevator where his manager was ready to fuss over him.

You stared at his back as you stepped off the elevator and were led to the side to be checked out by the fire department. You received a text shortly after that Tenoch was already heading back to his hotel with the manager and that a car was waiting for you outside.

You sighed as you walked out on your own and found the town car that was waiting for you. As you sat in the back seat you looked down at the ring on your middle finger and smiled softly to yourself.

...

not sure if that's fluffy enough but i think it was cute.