#but for this round all the birthdays laid down the order for me

[episims]

Household: Fare

During the last round, Julian gave birth to Aurora, who later reached toddlerhood. Julian and Cloud both had quite a lot of adapting to do with being responsible for a child, and didn't survive completely without clashes either – especially as Julian had a habit of forgetting that he's the one on parental leave.

Since then, the town doctor Vera noted that Aurora's speech development is slightly delayed, but wasn't worried about it. While having trouble with forming sentences, Aurora is adept at imitating singular words.

Their house has gone through a minor renovation, as it wasn't very practical to have the two bedrooms directly connected. The pro of living in a building made from containers is that changing the layout is just a matter of cutting metal.

[privategurlsblog]

They’re ‘Casual’ - A.T

Not intended for minors. 18+

Warnings: piv (unprotected), oral (f receiving), very smutty, he’s dominant, jealousy, possessiveness, public

PLOT: You and Alex have a complicated dynamic. When he sees you talking to another man, he sets you straight in the best way possible.

🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩

You hovered near the bar, craning your neck to catch sight of Alex. He wasn't your boyfriend, you didn't really have a right to watch his every move but you always ended up doing so nonetheless.

It had been 2015 when you'd met him, at a shoot for a music video where you were topless and you'd slept together that very same night. He didn't keep you around per se, but you made sure to be around whenever you could. And there had started the complicated situation that you two were in, some kind of friends with benefits but it was incredibly obvious you wanted more. And this had been going on for a year now.

Sometimes he texted you to come to events he was at, just so he could see you, ruin you and then leave you again. Tonight though, it had been his best friend Miles who had extended the invite, after the two of you had hit it off when you starred in a music video for their band.

So far, Alex hadn't even spared you a fucking glance and to say you were livid was an understatement. Maybe if he pulled his gaze from the tall blonde with the flat chest and puffy lips for one minute, he'd see you hovering nearby him with your snarled lips.

Your friend sighed as she saw you, eyes driven to him as always and she moved in front to block your vision, a sympathetic look clouding her eyes as her hand laid upon your hot arm.

"Y/N, he's an arse, we know this. Why are you putting yourself through it?" She said to you, there was sternness laced in her tone and you felt guilt bloom in your chest as you imagined how sick she was of seeing you lovestruck over someone who clearly couldn't care less in return.

But you weren't delusional. Alex didn't just fuck you. He'd wined and dined you, bought you gifts, messaged you on your birthday, cuddled you in bed in the mornings with pastries and coffee staining your lips. He invited you to practises, birthday parties, events. You were so sure what all of that meant and yet he still never wanted it to advance, and your friend was right. You were being ridiculous watching his every move, he wasn't yours.

"You're right. I need a distraction," you hummed and she grinned, nodding her head towards a guy who was with a group of people and yet his gaze was searing into you. You smiled shyly when you caught him, and the cute, boyish dimples that popped out in return made you flush.

"Go on, talk to him," your friend winked at you and you took your lip between your teeth as you approached upon his beckon, glancing back at her only to let out a little dignified silent scream.

She grinned, shaking her head laughing before she ordered another drink and tried not to watch you. Luckily, a distraction came along in the form of Miles, who sidled up next to her and glanced to where her eyes were aimed - at you.

"Oooo Alex won't like that," Miles sparks the conversation up, to which your friend looks round disgruntled and a little confused by his statement.

"Alex isn't going to care," she spits, eyes averting to the man who is still in deep conversation with the blonde, "he's occupied."

"Still," Miles shrugs, smirking a little as he waves down the bartender. Your friend hasn't been around much to know the dynamic, having only heard it all through you before you'd pleaded she come to the event for this very reason, "he won't like it."

"They're casual, she's not committing a crime," your friend rolls her eyes to which Miles chuckles.

"There's nowt casual about those two, believe me," Miles muses, "they'll be all over each other by the end of the night. Wait and see."

Meanwhile, Alex was getting bored of the conversation with the blonde. Stacey? Sasha? Sarah? Something like that, but he certainly couldn't remember. And upon the bore, he let his eyes wander the bar in hope of you. When they laid on you though, they blazed with fury. There you were, head thrown back, sparkling white teeth glistening under the light and your eyes eventually matched once your head fell. They were fixed on a bloke, Alex couldn't see his face from here but he already knew he wanted to punch it in.

"Excuse me," Alex seethed, practically shoving the blonde out of the way. He was stalking before he knew it, eyes laid on the prize, jaw clenched, eyes wide with annoyance. Who did this fucker think he was? You were his. He was yours too, but you didn't recognise that. You thought the worst and he lets you, knowing that if you think that he could never let you down. But he certainly won't be sharing you with anyone.

"There he goes. Knew it," Miles grins triumphantly as both him and your friend watch Alex stalk towards you, people parting for him like he's Moses and they're the Red Sea. Your friend is in disbelief at his audacity but watches on helplessly as he reaches you.

"There you are darling," Alex's smile is stiff as he reaches you and the boy you've come to know as Scott, quite the cute charmer with decidedly good intentions. You had momentarily pulled your gaze from Alex while talking to him but that didn't mean the fact he'd stalked over here pissed off didn't enthral you. For if you were being honest, it was him you really wanted.

"Alex," you nodded curtly, and his eyes blazed with annoyance which made you bite back a girlish giggle in response, the smirk growing strong on your lips.

"I need to steal her mate," Alex shoved past Scott before he could even process the ordeal, pulling you by your hand and you were off in a flash. You weren't exactly going to protest, it was his attention you craved after all and here he was asking for you. You knew some girls would aim to give him a hard time but that's not your game plan.

Alex's grip is tight as he drags you behind him to the corridor that leads to the toilets, the people passing a mere blur against his chaste pace.

Unknowingly to you both, your friends watched on, Miles bubbling with laughter and your friend seething internally.

"I'm not having this!" She insists, slamming her glass down hard enough for it to shatter, luckily it doesn't, "he can't just ignore her all night and then claim her when she finds someone better!"

"Hey," Miles put a hand on her shoulder and held her back from the rampage she was sure to go on, she looked round in distaste, "Alex cares about Y/N. Trust me. He's all hers."

"Yeah well I find that hard to believe. If he doesn't stop hurting her...."

"Stop worrying," Miles chuckles, "he adores her. You'll see."

Meanwhile, Alex had dragged you into the toilet. It was an accessible one, private to the two of you and you could only pray that no one would need to use it while you were in here.

As you met his gaze, you knew you were in trouble and probably due a good punishment. Your cheeks heated at even the thought. Alex locked the door behind you both and then spun to meet your eyes, his filled with annoyance.

Suddenly he'd grabbed you, spun you around and had your back against the door before you even had time to process it. Your mouth fell open in a gasp, his eyes bored into you as you gazed up at him in surprise.

"What are you playing at?" Alex hissed, trapping you between his body and the wall and his fist landed in a thump against the rustic wooden door behind you.

You stared up at him, a mixed expression of brattiness and excitement that he was acting like this. If you were being completely honest, talking to that lad has aided you more so in your mission to get his attention. But you won't say that, you'll act innocent as ever.

"What? I was just talking to someone Alex," you roll your eyes, playing the part perfectly. You push his body slightly so he stumbles back, standing straighter against the door as you glare into his fuming figure, "'s not like I'm your girlfriend."

Alex tuts, practically steaming at the ears as he slams both of his palms down on the door again. You could flinch, perhaps you would if it were anyone else. With Alex though, you know it's all an act. He might be genuinely annoyed but he'd never hurt you, you know that. If anything, this will feed into his air of dominance and you'll get a really good shag out of it.

"You think you can stand there flirting with some dickhead right in front of me?" Alex scoffs, his dark eyes grow black with annoyance. Your defiance raises his heart rate, the blood souring around his body. You watch as colour pours into his cheeks, turning them ruby red with anger.

"You were flirting with that girl-"

"I was talking to her," he cuts you off, rolling his eyes like you're an idiot for your assumptions. The double standard makes you shake your head, you push past him to look at yourself in the mirror, afraid that if you watch his lips curve to create one more syllable, you'll kiss him.

"Don't walk away from me," he grabbed your arm, spinning you back around and your resolve crumbled. You met his eyes, they pierced through you with an intensity you'd never seen. His jawbone stretched tight over his skin, his teeth barred. The sight was oddly attractive, combined with the roughness of his grip and the overwhelming scent of his spicy aftershave - your knees started to quiver.

He looked satisfied at your response to him, gazing up at him with widened eyes, excitement and fear mingling in them. You knew he'd look after you, so why were you looking elsewhere?

"You're being a fucking brat," he hissed, his voice low and deep, reverberating through your sensitive body as you shook in his hands.

He pushed you back until your arse cheeks crashed against the countertops. Trapped inside his arms, the most you could do was hold your palms to his chest. The tension between the two of you was electric, intimacy lingering in the air but the anger palpable. In your line of vision (though you never dared look away from his eyes), you could see your chest heaving, bumping his equally stressed chest as it does.

"Look at how badly you want me," he chuckled, smoothing a thumb over your jaw, pressing the pad of it under your chin, grinning madly when you swallow and your skin shakes under his touch, "do you want me?"

You nod, but he looks dissatisfied. He grips you tighter, his hips pressing against yours. You can feel the unmistakable poke of his cock against your thigh, before even doing anything. A small spark of satisfaction echoes through you, but you don't dare tease.

"Use your tongue, used it enough for that other bloke and you can't even be arsed to form a sentence for me?" He tuts, his palm moving to the curve of your arse, lifting your dress up until it settles around your waist so he has the freedom to grip the supple flesh in his palms.

"I want you," you confirm, watching that sadistic smirk grow, "more than you give me of you."

"I'm yours," Alex groans, frustrated by your insecurities. He presses his hips into you once again, then he kisses you. Alex's kisses are never sensual. They're hot, heavy, desperate off the bat and that's how they've been since the first time he'd kissed you.

You love the taste of him, his whiskey laced breath, the taste of cigarettes lingering on his tongue but you always, always taste mint too - like he preps himself before kissing you every time.

His palm comes up around your neck, squeezing at the sides until he coaxes a moan from you. He smiles against your lips, his tongue invading your mouth, rendering you senseless as your eyes roll back and you collapse into his arms.

Alex holds you tight, growing harder by the second. His touch grows desperate, his free hand on your arse trailing down between your legs, finding your damp panties, your cunt swollen beneath the thin fabric. His mouth falls open in a groan, teeth clashing with yours as his fingertips dance across the lace.

"You're a fucking dirty girl, aren't you darling?" He growls against your lips. You yelp when you feel his hand collide with your arse, the sharp sting heightening your arousal, flooding the panties that his other fingers are still pressed against. His eyes glint with satisfaction as you gush for him, a teasing chuckle escaping his lips.

"Only for me though," he growls, "you're only supposed to be a slut for me. But here you are, performing to the whole fucking bar."

He slaps your arse again, harder this time. You whimper, barely overcoming the sensation before he dips his head in the curve of your sweat slick neck, his tongue licking a stripe up the flesh until it reaches the spot that makes you shiver. His assault doesn't come subtly, he's sucking and biting the flesh, making you mewl against his shoulder, your feet barely holding you up. Your hands fly to his shoulders, gripping them tight as you attempt to compose yourself. But when he bites down on your flesh, his fingers swiftly moving your panties to the side and rubbing through your wet cunt, you stumble.

"Look at you," he says against your neck, his voice seeping through your skin, making you tremble, "legs spreading so fucking easily."

His fingers teased your clit, pinching the swollen nub before suddenly they've moved down to your hole, plunging deep without any preparation. You're so wet that it doesn't even hurt, your tight walls drink him in, his fingers getting lost in the slick heat.

"Fuck, Alex...." You whine, a desperate plea for more, more, more. You're pathetic, but you can't help it. No one does it for you like he does.

"That's right darling, you say my name," he curves his fingers upwards, hitting your sweet spot and your eyes roll back as a long moan falls from your lips, "it's the only four letters I want falling from that dirty tongue."

His fingers move quickly inside of you, giving you no time to process the pleasure. Your stomach coils with your impending release, far too quick for you to even realise it's coming. His thumb moves up to your clit, matching the fast pace of his fingers inside. Even you're taken by surprise when your resolve snaps and your cunt tightens, cumming all over his fingers as you groan, mumbling his name over and over again.

Alex chuckles as you tremble from your high, steadying yourself by plastering your palms on the sink behind you. He leans back to let his eyes travel the length of your body, his desire becoming more evident.

You glance down to his trousers, the tight jeans barely holding his cock. You can see the full outline of it pressing against the fabric, your mouth salivating at the thought of having him inside of you.

"You want my cock?" He teases, starting his rhythm back up with his fingers. You mewl, overwhelmed by the sensitivity but you don't stop him. His pace is slower now, drawn out and torturous. You revel in the dirtiness of it all even if it pains you to the core, quite literally.

"I want you to cum again first."

He suddenly drops to his knees, pulling your panties down on the way. They land on the floor, a dark spot on the devil red fabric from your arousal. Alex grins at the sight, slowly moving his palms up your sides, scraping his primed nails along you. Goosebumps raise in his wake, the satisfaction gleaming in his eyes from how clearly affected you are. All he wants is to be craved by you. All you want is him.

Your hands find his hair, softly stroking through the strands. He hums, eyes fluttering closed as he momentarily loses himself in the sensation. The moment of weakness warms your heart, you have the urge to pull him up and hug him but you know he'd just push you away. So you'll take what you can.

When he reopens his eyes, all the softness has dissipated. His pupils nearly swallow his irises, the usual chocolate brown consumed by darkness. They move to your core, he licks his lips in preparation to taste you as the sight of your wet pussy faces him.

He moves one of his hands to your hole, his fingers delicately rubbing around, spreading the wetness, before he slowly eases them inside of you and your head falls back. He squeezes your arse tight with his other hand.

"Look at me."

You comply immediately, trying to ignore the urge to get lost in the pleasure as your eyes meet his.

"Good girl."

With that, he delves into your cunt. His tongue darts out to lick a stripe before he goes all in, his mouth engulfing your centre as his fingers work magic inside of you. He finds your spot immediately, fingertips nudging at the spongey flesh over and over again. Meanwhile, his hungry tongue swirls repeatedly over your clit, the pace fast and intended to make your legs shake. You grip his hair tight, painfully tight and yet he never seems to care to stop you. It even drives him further, until his entire face is buried into you, mouth opening to eat and lick and suck you, nose nudging your clit as his tongue swerves down.

His fingers spread to make a V shape, allowing enough room for his tongue to squeeze into you and you crumble. Your legs shake, your heart stops and you groan his name pornographically as your second orgasm washes over you. Alex laps at your pussy, your juices dropping into his mouth as his four fingers spin your clit to make it perfect for you.

Once you're over it, you pull him away by his hair. He looks drunk, completely intoxicated by your taste like it's the finest, oldest glass of whiskey on planet earth.

"Fucking hell baby," he's breathless, the lights casting him yellow showing your wetness glistening on his chin, nose, swollen lips. You blush at the sight of him, he looks a mess, a gorgeous mess and you love him. Fuck, you love him so much.

"Please," your voice is husky, your groans making your throat sore as you gaze down at him, "please Alex I need you."

"Thought you needed that bloke out there hm? Thought he could make you feel better than I do?" He stands up, pinning you against the counter again. Despite his words, his attempt to tease and undermine you, he can't help but kiss you. Your wet tongues move together, the sweet tang of you lingering on his makes you whine into the kiss, gyrating yourself against him.

"Don't you dare," he holds your hips steady, stepping back from you, "don't fucking tease me."

"I'm not, I just-"

"Shut up," he hisses, his eyes squeezing shut, his body trembling. You can see he's trying to hold back, clearly he's closer than he wants to admit. You don't let the smugness you feel inside portray on the outside - he'd surely slap your arse red raw if he thought you were making fun of him.

He released a few shaky breaths before opening his eyes again, his gaze wavering from his arousal.

"Bend over," he looked as serious as he sounded, and while you searched his gaze for any softness, he quickly moved his hand to the back of your head, strands of your hair caught between his fingers and he pushed you slightly over the sink, your eyes doeing at him as you looked upwards in the reflection of the mirror.

He looked feral. Widened eyes, messy hair from your restless hands, not to mention the pink tinge of his cheeks from both his anger and arousal.

"If you know what's good for you, fucking bend over Y/N. Seems like you need a reminder of what we are," he hissed and with that he pressed you harder and of course you complied. In fact, you were throbbing, rather embarrassed by the sudden rush of wetness between your thighs even though you've already orgasmed twice.

"Eyes on me," he practically barked at you, making you jump slightly, your back arching as his rough palm settled against it, curving into you. He dug his fingertips into your back, stroking down slowly all while keeping those chocolate brown eyes on your own thrilled ones.

The pressure of his fingers made you squirm, the shivers crawling down your spine enough to make your eyes nearly flutter closed but you knew he'd be annoyed so you pried them open with the promise of him being there, looking right back at you.

"So beautiful," he hummed generously, flattening his palm again, he let it trail the length of your back, his other one holding you steady by your hips. Eventually his palm reached your arse, covered from the thin dress you had on but Alex merely lifted it up, exposing your pink cunt and goosebump decorated skin, "this body hm? Fucking beautiful."

You whimpered, feeling his palm begin to caress and massage the soft cheek of your arse, his hand incredibly warm against your cooled skin. But then, just as quick as his softness came, it went. Suddenly he slapped your arse again, smoothing his palm over the red mark before he did it again, and again, and again. Until you were completely bent over, legs spread wide and moaning incessantly against the sink, hands pressed to the mirror.

"You're so fucking sexy," he curses, looking pretty pissed off about it if you might add. You could feel him fumbling with his belt, the cool metal of the buckle briefly brushed your arse, cooling the burning skin.

"You ready for me hm?" He leant down, his voice like honey trickling down your ear. You hummed in response and he left a kiss to your cheek, his breath heavy in your ear.

You felt the poke of him against your core, nudging right at your entrance and your fingers curved into your knuckles against the mirror as you prepared yourself.

He entered you swiftly, his cock dragging against your wet walls and yet the stretch was prominent, making you both gasp. He left it a beat before he started to thrust into you, dragging himself back and forth like a mantra he was conditioned into repeating.

"Fuck you're tight," he breathes out, grasping your hair in his hand, he pushes your head against the counter, you face nuzzled against it, all squished up. It didn't matter, Alex's eyes were on your colliding hips, watching your arse jiggle every time he thrust back into you.

His pace increased, the warmth and wet of you making him hiss and groan repeatedly, always so loud even as a bloke, he always makes sure you can hear he's enjoying it.

His cock stretches you and your walls flutter around him repeatedly, the sensation so blissful that you couldn't help but nudge back into him, trying to meet his hips again and again, the tip of him hitting a spot in you catered for him.

"Fuck this pussy...." He groaned out, "so fucking amazing."

"Alex...." You whined, clasping a hand behind you, trying to grab his leg as your body started to jolt forward from the sharpness of his actions. His pace increased each time, the collision of his hips against your arse enough to bruise you now. You know your fingertips would trace those marks tomorrow with a satisfied smile, thinking of him. Always him.

It got so hard that it was starting to hurt but the pain felt so good, your eyes rolled back, vision turning blurry as you felt yourself building up, your weak stomach coiling.

"No, one, else," Alex was grunting between each word, emphasising them by the sharp thrust he would make at the end of every syllable, "can, have, you."

"N-no-no-n-n," you were babbling, your mouth filled with drool, cheek pressed against the ceramic sink, cool against your boiling hot face streaked with black tears. Alex chuckled at the state of you, even though your core was squeezing him tight like a vice as you naturally got closer to your release.

"You are not to cum until I have, you understand?" Alex growls, his voice coming out whinier than he'd like but you're just so tight and wet around his incredibly stiff cock, squeezing him so tightly and he has to slow down himself, driving into you slowly now, the head of his cock torturing you with the tiniest of thrusts into your g spot.

When you whine in response, unable to form words with your agape, swollen mouth, Alex's palm lands harshly against your red raw arse cheek, a hand print forming before the sting has even eased and you cry out.

"Answer me!"

"Y-yes, yes I understand," you stutter, so overwhelmed with pleasure that the tears just fall. Alex grabs your hair, pulling your head up carefully so your eyes meet his in the mirror again and upon seeing his gorgeous face you clench around him, coaxing a deep groan from his chest.

"Gorgeous girl," he breathes close to your ear, his feral eyes wide and desperate. His thrusts never slow and he keeps his eyes driven on yours, the moment so intense that you just keep crying through it.

You're not upset, you're not unhappy or in pain - you're just overwhelmed and you just love him and you just need him.

"Please," you whimper, "fill me up Alex. Please."

He groans, his face barely moving, the sound just dropping out. The tension in the room clouds the both of you, the mirror fogging up, the scent of sex lingering around you both. It's dirty, so so dirty. But you'd expect nothing less from him.

"You want me to fill you?" His voice was a mixture of shock and desire, coming out half as a moan. You whined and nodded, your cheeks stained crimson, your eyes glazed with lust. Looking at yourself like this, ruined, bent over and taking him like a whore - it made your skin crawl with shame and yet, you loved it. Revelled in it.

Alex usually pulls out, even though you're on the pill, he never risks you getting pregnant considering the state of your situationship. But in this moment, all he wants is to feel your insides warm with his release, and so he doesn't.

Groaning as you milk his cock, his cum shoots into you as his widened eyes flutter closed and he moans rather girlishly, unable to contain himself. You feel it shooting into you, warm and thick, coating his cock and your walls and the warmth is enough to make you spasm and tighten around him again, squirting around the sides of him as you collapse against the sink hard and he falls on top of you, breathless and blissed out against your back. Your pussy convulses, the liquid squirting all over his jeans (luckily black jeans), your backside and the floor. Alex feels you gushing and moans against your skin, consumed by his desire for you, even after he's released. Just feeling you is enough. You eventually calm, your moans subsided as your pussy clenches one more time before your muscles relax.

"Fuck," he breathes out, "fucking hell baby, God you're just," his speech stops as he thrusts into you one last time, making you whimper, sore and full of his cum, "made for me."

"So good. So so good," you mumble, your voice hoarse. Now that you're coming down from your high, the concern about whoever's outside this door starts to rise. The music was loud out there anyway, you doubt anyone would hear you but if they happened to be waiting....God, even the thought made you grimace.

Alex was tenderly touching your body, he pulled out of you slowly, plugging your hole with his thumb so that none of his cum could seep out of you. He leant down to pull your panties up and you looked up in confusion as he kissed your shoulder, his lips warm and juicy from how much they had swelled.

"Listen to me," Alex raises your head by your hair again, spent and hazy eyed as you gaze at him, "you aren't to clean yourself up. I want you to pull those panties up full of my cum, understand?"

You nodded feebly, you didn't have the energy to argue, not in this state. Quite frankly you were more concerned with how you might fix your face. A sinister smile lifted on the corners of his lips, subtle and matching his dark eyes as he tenderly kissed your cheek, eyes never straying from yours. His mouth moved to your ear, breath hot against your sensitive skin.

"That way, no one can ever touch you. Only me. You're mine. Aren't you darling?"

"Does the same go for you?" You couldn't help but let it slip. Even though you were hazy, near enough passed out. The act was over and with it his dominance diminished. He looked at you with a thoughtful expression, standing straight to smooth down your hair.

"Of course."

He pulled away, clearly afraid of the feelings you were on the verge of discussing. Though something told you they were there. Alex had shown signs of jealousy before and sure, he was always dominant. But you'd never seen him lose it over you like he did tonight.

You stood and smoothed down your dress, fumbling in your bag for your makeup so you could fix the state of it on your face. Alex busied himself zipping up his trousers, fumbling with the buttons. The silence was comfortable, you felt content with his answer.

"I'll go first," he said, "you fix yourself up and meet me out there. I'll be with Miles."

You nodded, he leaned in to kiss you, getting a little lost in it. Your lips danced together in a melody of wetness and warmth, sliding over each other messily. Alex's hand got lost in the strands of your hair, tugging your head back by the roots, he gazed over you with adoration.

"Don't get lost on the way back. I see you talking to another man again, you'll be getting round two. Hear me?"

You nodded, biting your lip to contain a pathetic whine at his words. Before him, you'd never realised how enthralled you'd be by dominance. But you adored him, everything he gave you. And no matter how wrong it was, you adored his jealousy, his possessiveness.

With one more squeeze of your waist, Alex left the bathroom, leaving you with the buzz of the yellow light and the scary reflection of yourself and your raccoon like eyes. A big purple bruise taints the skin of your neck, you groan as you try to cover it but the makeup just spreads around your sweaty skin, giving you no leeway. You decide to just leave it, what's the point in hiding that you're with him?

You tried your best to clean up but when you leave the bathroom, you bow your head nonetheless, knowing full well your activity will be written all over your ruined face. Alex is stood with Miles, who is stood with your friend and they all look up upon your arrival.

"You okay Y/N?" Your friends expression is a mixture of concern and annoyance. Of course, she wouldn't take it out on you personally - she knew how it was with boys and girls, and falling head over heels. She just wished for your own sake that you could be stronger.

"All good," you smile, your lips trembling at the sides. Truthfully you're exhausted. If it wasn't for Alex's arm curving around your back, you'd probably crumble to the floor. He holds you tight, leaving a chaste kiss on your temple.

As the chatter continued, you grew more and more tired. Your head eventually leant on Alex's shoulder, your eyelids fluttering with their insistent desire to close so you can drift off into sleep. Alex hasn't left your side all night long, his grip constantly on you, eyes following your every move.

You felt his gaze on you now as your eyes fluttered again, his filled with a warmth that was rare from him. It was short lived when the bloke you'd been talking to earlier passed, noticing your position with Alex, weariness filled his gaze.

Alex glared at him, sitting up straighter like he was ready for a fight if it came to it. But Scott continued walking, and Alex turned his head towards yours.

"Come on, let's go to mine," Alex wrapped an arm around your waist, glaring at Scott who cocked his head in confusion. Guilt bloomed in your chest for him but equally you were relieved to finally have Alex's attention on you. You nuzzled into his side and he let you, not caring about possible sightings for once.

You climbed into the taxi behind him, his palm splayed on your thigh, his gaze thoughtful for a while. He remained silent for most of the journey, looking out of the window, the only indication that he noticed your presence being the soft stroke of his thumb against your skin.

"You know I care about you right?" He turns around, a frown on his brow like you'd shatter his heart if you told him no.

"Yeah, I know," you barely suppressed your smile and Alex soon relaxed, returning it and then leaning out to cup your face with his palm.

"You're my girl," he hummed. This time it wasn't a threat. It was a fact.

🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩

A/N: to the anon who asked for a jealous alex….here he is. Not sure if it’s what you wanted but unspoken feelings are another trope I’m in love with. Anyways, enjoy 😗🙂‍↕️

(under edited. as always).

[uchihaharlot]

Happy Smutty Shisui Sunday! I didn’t forget about my man.

This week I went to hell and back and back and back some more. Hardly had any Shisui or Uchiha simpy time for myself. 😩😭 Completely missed my ovulation horny thirst week!! I hope this makes up for it, to you and to me.

Ovulating or not, I’m still unbearably horny for this man.

NSFW; Shisui has been busting fat loads of his cum inside of you. In hopes that you’d end up pregnant & yes, I know Shisui’s birthday has passed. Consider this some sort of retroactive celebration on top of Shisui smutty Sundays.

WC: an ungodly amount of horny brain goes brrrr; mostly edited. My eye started to twitch so yea.

Well. Obviously after about six months he starts to think something is wrong with him or you. He wasn’t entirely shy when it came to making sure he thrusted his warm cum deep at your cervix. And even so far as to repeatedly fucking one load after another into you. You just sort of figured it was that Uchiha breeding kink and let him have his way to sate the desire. That maybe he couldn’t help it and that might be why you ended up beneath him for hours, folded like a pretzel and flipped over to be taken any which way.

Certainly the breeding was partial to it. Shisui really was and at some point admits to hoping you’d grow round with his baby. “…can we talk?”

Was there something wrong with the swim team? Last he checked; or well the yearly physical. They were in prime condition to root and grow inside your womb. There wasn’t a damn thing wrong with him. And maybe he peeped your file and saw everything was in working order for you as well.

“Shisui-kun.” You sit with him at the table; the concern that spreads his face is immaculate. “What’s wrong?”

How does he say this without coming off as weird and maybe even a bit creepy. “I’ve been trying to get you pregnant for the better half of a year and …” full stop when you grab his hand and squeeze.

“Oh, Shisui.” That soft smile he loves so much stretches your lips. “It’s severely impossible at this time.”

Severely?

Well how in the nine circles to hell was that? ‘At this time?’ So it could or had been possible before. “Explain this, please?” It sounded so desperate when he didn’t mean it to. The words wrapped around his larynx and dried his throat, and barely sounded normal as they scratched their way out.

“It’s called birth control.” You try not to laugh, how was he unaware of this? You’ve mentioned it in the past. Maybe long ago.

“No, I would have seen you take the pill. I figured you had stopped since…well, since things are more serious.” How cute was Shisui when he struggled to express his doubts, second guessing if he was full of it or not. Certainly he knew there were other forms of contraception. The look on his face as you explain what an intrauterine device was had you almost in tears of laughter. Even someone like Obito was aware of this.

To think that a measly piece of plastic wrapped in copper was interfering with his family planning!? This was inconceivable—literally! He was an Uchiha for fucks sake. How could something with no substance other than metal and plastic prevent such powerful genes from taking root. This simply did not sit well, but eventually passed as Shisui went through the phases of realization. It almost felt wasteful to think how many times he’s tirelessly laid you down, had you cramped beneath him. Talking filth of spilling into you and milking himself bone dry.

Hot and sweaty; orgasm after orgasm. Even a silent prayer to the gods that he would be blessed with a next of kin. The sour look on his face before he sheepishly smiles said it all as you speak. “I am sorry this disappoints you.”

In reality, couples talked before they had children. Shisui was an entirely different breed of man. He didn’t operate on reckless abandon but to say that the shock value of your uterus not being at his disposal was not something he counted on when he was purposely trying to fuck a baby in you. He almost looks pitiful.

Shrugs it off. Patching up his wounded ego, “it’s fine.” When it didn’t really feel fine. A small part of you felt guilty seeing him so forlorn over it.

And another deplorably sick part of you revels in it, how desperate was Shisui to make your body his in more ways than one. “We can talk about it sometime? Typically…this is a group decision.” With what little words he could manage now, Shisui deliberated the ordeal wasn’t in his favor.

That stung a bit. His irrational need to pump you full of his own personal brand of Uchiha specimen completely outweighed the rational sense of procreation. It was a dual effort and Shisui, too, felt a twinge of guilt. “I’m sorry.”

Yes, he was. You can see it, feel it. How adorably cute he looked with puppy dog reds. So caught in his emotions that the forehead kiss you planted took a beat for it to register. “No harm, no foul.” Your forgiveness was much appreciated. You took it far better than he anticipated in this instance.

From that day forward, a new idea populated in your mind. It was stupid as all hell, but what a better birthday gift than the very thing that tormented his ability to impregnate you. It crossed your doctor as weird when you asked if you could take it with you. Usually it was a firm no, this was a biological hazard. But having the privilege of dating one of the most influential men of all times, from the most prestigious clans the Hidden Village ever produced. The only time you would ever pull that sort of weight over your head. Shisui would surely not appreciate you using the Uchiha name to get what you wanted.

Much less to instill fear into the doctor with no recourse to back it up.

But it works in your favor. Wrapped up cute, the device rests in a small box. Of course this wasn’t a real gift, it was a gag. The real gift was some specially designed and crafted ninja tools, a subscription to that expensive ass hair care he bought throughout the year and well. Your undying love and affection of course. What better way to bring a man to his knees when he came home from a long mission than to tell him that your womb was for the taking? It was hardly romantic, how were you supposed to know this man would froth at the mouth as he entered the kitchen.

Well, you should have known. The skimpy crotchless lingerie you are wearing was a welcome surprise. Then bending over into the oven as if you hadn’t noticed he was there, I mean you did. Looking over your shoulder told you all you needed to see. That thousand yard stare as the kaleidoscope behind his eyes wound tight and instantaneously bled red. Even further widening to elicit what most would call formidable. It was a treat for you when Shisui salaciously threatened you with his Mangekyō. This was a special occasion.

There wasn’t any part of you that his eyes mapped out and took in as you approached him.

“Happy birthday.” You whisper, leaning up to pepper a soft kiss on either cheek before his eagerly opening lips nip at you. “Hungry?”

How easily she looked into the Mangekyō as if it wasn’t a loaded gun. “That’s an understatement.” His hands have been running up and down your sides already, thumbing at the lacy material that did fuck all for the imagination. It literally wrote the entire thing for him. “What’s this?”

Shisui obviously knew it was his birthday, though he hadn’t expected this display of affection. Ok; that’s a blatant lie. He did expect some sort of celebration but this was on an entirely different realm than what he considered.

The opener gag gift. That little wrapped box was easy tore through in swift fashion. Though, its contents perplexed him further. Looking to you again, red silk pearls spin wildly. “That was the baby inhibitor.”

Oh. This was the thing. “Was?” Mission lag had not been kind to Shisui, it was a rough few days. Too many stalled attempts before it was accomplished. But being a genius didn’t leave him entirely ignorant. “Oh.” Like, now it clicks. That this—this exact tiny thing was the actual thing. Which meant, “you’ve been liberated.”

It was a funny way to put it, but to Shisui it meant everything. It meant that he could actually move forward with you. Not that you hadn’t already been moving forward, but this was the sort of progression he desired most.

“…has it?” He asked again, your silence only made him reconsider, and as you held his face with both palms. You gave Shisui the most tender kiss, full-mouthed and deep, he whispered through broken kisses. “Are you truly prepared for this?”

Those words alone send a heat to pool in your lower stomach. That and Shisui’s hands gripping you tightly as they trembled at the curve of your waist. Whether it be excitement or lack of sleep. Probably lack of an actual meal too. He didn’t quite feel like eating dinner in this moment.

“The situation has been rectified.” Those simple yet effective words had more of a profound impact on Shisui. Had you not realized this was something he desperately needed? “It will take a few cycles—”

Words were futile for a man in Shisui’s position. This exact moment found you backwards walked in a series of scorching katon kisses. He nearly singed the back of your throat when he kissed you this way. Maddening him further was the soft touch to his belt as you unclamp it and untucked his cock. Searing more the same kisses your jaw, throat and chest when you stroked his flaming erection. How deliciously sweet but spicy that Uchiha katon tasted as it sat in the back of your esophagus.

Your dainty bodice was left somewhere in between the hall bathroom and the master bedroom door. You were already squirming on two fingers knuckle deep before your head hit the bed. Scoffed at the loss of his cock in your hand. That crotchless little thing had Shisui spreading your slick and tonguing at your clit before you put on whatever act you had planned.

“Your…gifts.” A hopeless mewl when you came on his mouth the first time, Shisui was far too gone.

“…fuck the gifts.” This was more precious than any gift, that you were fully capable of doing him the honors of taking his genetic material and making it into something so valuable and beautiful. “…I don’t care if you take to my seed today, tomorrow or next month. This right here is for practice.”

It wasn’t any sort of sex that you and Shisui had before. Sure, sex was sex when you looked at it from any angle. But this? This was being caged under a man who had little resolve left with his actions. By no means did he hurt or leave a mark that wasn’t planted with the utmost respect for you and your body. Red marks on either side of your neck, chest and thighs. Once Shisui determines you were properly worked out enough for him.

The twitch in his cock as he luridly strokes himself before you, wild eyed and tinted. As he divides you over his length, he shucks both your knees with his arms and full on dips the entirety of his hips into the padding of your ass. It’s almost painful when he presses into you this way.

Only then did he fuck you mercilessly. The consistent deep thrusts are the first to make your eyes roll shut. Hardly ever did he use his teeth, but when you moaned out his name like that. Needy and wanting. There wasn’t anything else he thought of than to bite every inch of skin his mouth came across. You were cramped up so snug beneath him, completely immobilized and at his mercy. The subtle touch of his testicles on a full cock length thrust every now and then. His rhythm unrelenting. Shisui attentively listens to every soft mewl and whimper out of your precious mouth when his lips and fingers don’t have it preoccupied.

But damn did he love the sound of you moaning around his fingers. Choked out on three of them, as your ‘cute little pussy’—or so he called it. Fluttered and milked another deeply buried load into you, at this point he was merely tap to release. Bottoming out into a seemingly bottomless pool of his own cum. It seeped and spilled on to the nice silk sheets you intricately place earlier today.

The dull pulse of another orgasm as he continued to pump so slow, but incredulously deep. As if he purposely never fully fucked his cock into you; which was a far stretch. The many times Shisui inundated the swell of your cunt with his ever throbbing need and used it as a dump was more than you could ever count. How effortlessly he coaxed three more orgasms out of you, each one spasms and threatens another deposit out of him.

This was undoubtedly breeding. No way to describe it overwise. If you hadn’t of guess it by now, the things he said to you were more than an indication of the long night ahead of you. Powerless, but pleased to no end. You didn’t think however many orgasms he worked out of you were possible. You lay almost limp and useless. Along for the ride. Not to mention how sticky and nasty your legs felt. The amount of pain this man’s testicles would bear tomorrow morning was worth while. As if continuing to thrust into you would make his cum leak out less, Shisui was operating on what you assumed was less than half a brain cell. His eyes were lost, distant. Even with the Mangekyō boring into you this way his foresight that he was thoroughly finished hadn’t caught up.

You patted his cheek lovingly. It took a real special woman such as yourself to understand a man like Shisui.

“…Shisui-kun. You can stop now.” It wasn’t a plea, more of a distraction. There hadn’t been any warmth filling you from with in. Just whatever he managed to slosh around inside of you. It caked your insides.

But your seeet voice thrummed through his ears and his heart sank, “…oh …gods.” It was that moment he regained some semblance of control. Having fucked you on autopilot. The apologies flood as the kisses peppered your cheeks.

Here you lie, plugged. Stuffed to the brim of your cunt with his cum. Whatever didn’t manage to leak out still ever present inside you. The viscosity of it only thickens as it sits. So gentle when he slips out, the massive bubbles as his cum fully empties out of you. Shisui didn’t realize the reach of his own body. Scooping you up, he plops you into the tub.

The clock reads three hours that dinner had been sitting on the counter. The warmth of the water soothes your aching legs and back. Shisui hardly used his full strength to outmaneuver you, but this time he hadn’t the slightest how far he took it.

“I’m fine.” You smile, wholly fucked and tired. “…it was just for practice right?”

Shisui ran both hands through damp curls. He had forgotten all that was said. “It won’t be anything like that again.”

But what if you had liked it? “I’m partial to it…” dipping just below the water, up to your nose and not averting your gaze from his. “It was hot.” There you said it.

Shisui smiles the width of his mouth. Hot, you thought it was hot to be fucked like a cocksleeve? “Is that so?”

“…yes.” There wasn’t any way around it. “Just maybe, we take turns?” This was something Shisui could work with.

Slipping into the tub with you, behind you. Shisui leans you against his chest. “I can manage that.” When you mentioned it was rather endearing aside from being mostly prone. He remembers, “about those gifts?”

“After you reheat dinner.” The soft white of the foamy bath water is washed over you by Shisui with a loofah.

He could do that. He would do anything you ask of him. Especially knowing that from this moment forward, he would be undoubtedly indebted to you once that beautiful body of yours was swollen for him.

[namorslutfanfiction]

Oie! Se não for pedir muito e se tiver vagas disponíveis, e obviamente se quiser escrever sobre. Poderia por favor fazer o 14 e 9 para Alejandro e 19 para nosso amado Tenoch? (Desculpe se pedi demais, mas confesso que sou obcecada por suas histórias!)

Thank you my friend!

Translation:

"Hi! If it's not too much to ask and if you have vacancies, and obviously if you want to write about it. Could you please do 14 and 9 for Alejandro and 19 for our beloved Tenoch? (Sorry if I ask too much, but I confess that I am obsessed with your stories!)"

Ale with 14

Alejandro couldn't help but grimace at yet another failed and over cooked cake as he threw it in the trash. Three attempts at baking to surprise his Tia and no luck. Time was ticking too, she would be back from her day out with friends in a couple hours. He didn't want to be a burden but he knew he needed help.

The phone range twice before you answered it, "Hello?"

"Hey, it's me Alejandro. Can you come over? I need your cooking." Alejandro asked a bit distracted as he looked over the recipe wondering where he went wrong.

"A 'please' would have been nice, Ale," You scoffed, but smiled to yourself. Your childhood friend never did treat you with the same 'manners' he held for other women. "I take it the surprise cake isn't going very well."

"No and that's why I need your help, please. I'll treat you to dinner some time as a thank you," Alejandro pleaded. You could practically hear him pouting and giving you puppy eyes.

You grabbed your purse, "You have all the ingredients right? I don't have to stop at the store on the way?"

Alejandro mumbled something you couldn't hear. "Speak up, Ale, I can't hear you."

"Can you buy some beer? I'll pay you back later," He spoke quickly as if saying it faster would save his pride.

You chuckled, "Yea I'll get it. But you can't drink it all, save some for Tia."

Alejandro replied with a litany of 'thank you's as you hung up the phone and headed out the door.

When you arrived at his home he answered the door and immediately took the case of beer from your hands. He was dressed in just a white tank top and pants. You tried not to blush. You had seen him wrestling, this was nothing, you had to remind yourself. Once the beer was in the fridge, Alejandro, greeted you with a brief hug and a kiss on the cheek.

The kitchen was small and cluttered with bowls, utensils, and ingredients covering every surface. You dropped your purse on a chair and picked up an apron that was draped over it. You threw on the apron and turned to the luchador, "Well then, let's get to work."

Alejandro's smile was dazzling as you got to work. He stepped back and only helped when you ordered him to do something specifically. He at least knew not to get in the way. But he did keep you laughing with stories and updates about his wrestling, Franklin, and of course asked about you and your life.

By the time his Tia arrived, you were both dusted with flour and bits of white frosting. Ale had cooked up a nice dinner while you had put together and frosted the cake. His aunt walked in just as you started to set the table.

"Hello Tia! Happy Birthday!" You greeted the older woman with a hug and kiss to the cheek.

She smiled at you as she took off her coat. Alejandro rounded the corner with two platters of food that he expertly laid down in the middle of the table. He greeted his aunt with a warm smile "Tia, did you have fun?"

"Of course I did. The girls were very happy to go out on our own but they had more fun asking about you. You have quite a lot of fans now, mijo," She teased him. Alejandro got flustered and excused himself to get the beer and move the cake.

"Ay, bonita," She looked at you with an affectionate gaze before taking a napkin and wiping some flour off your cheek, "Please don't tell me he made you do all the work, mija."

"I would never do that!" Alejandro chimed in before you could speak. "I cooked dinner."

You couldn't help but laugh while his aunt rolled her eyes. "He's telling the truth, Tia. I only helped make sure your birthday cake was edible. You know how Ale can be when it comes to baking. He has no talent for it but he will try."

That made her chuckle, "You'll stay and have dinner with us, won't you."

Alejandro threw an arm around your shoulder affectionately, "Of course she is. If I kick her out now she might beat me up."

You smacked him playfully and told him to go sit. His aunt eyed the two of you with a knowing look but didn't say anything. As you sat and enjoyed the dinner, you couldn't help but admire Alejandro and how good he looked when he was relaxed.

"Mija, do you have anyone interested in you? My comadre has a son I think would be well suited for you. He's a carpenter. One of those strong ones that look like they can build houses with their bare hands," Alejandro's aunt winked at you.

You felt yourself getting flustered, "Tia! I'm enjoying life alone and working on my education. But if he happens to run into me I wouldn't be opposed to coffee."

You were so engrossed in your laughter with his aunt that you didn't notice Alejandro stop chewing and stare incredulously at the two of you. "You can't get coffee with that guy when you already agreed to go out to dinner with me."

"Ale! You said that was going to be the favor in return for baking this cake," You pointed out.

"And that's the only way I've gotten you to agree to go out to dinner with me so I consider that a win/win situation. So no coffee with giant carpenters," Alejandro quipped before taking the empty plates from the table.

You glanced wide eyed at his aunt and she gave you a suggestive look, one eye brow raised and a smile pulling at her lips. You whispered to her in a hushed tone, "Did he just say that our dinner is a date now?"

"I think he did. Good luck, mija. He's a determined one and he's finally realized you've been in front of him this whole time." You felt heat rising in your face from the embarrassment and the excitement. Alejandro wanted to take you on a date. Literally a day after you had decided to let go of your unrequited feelings for him.

"He's got terrible timing," You glanced once more at the older woman as Alejandro returned with slices of cakes for each of you. The woman giggled as she ate, smiling at the two young people in front of her.

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Ale with 9

You massaged Alejandro's bare shoulders. This wasn't the first time he had come to you for physical comfort. Although it never went further than a massage of his sore muscles and maybe him holding you close. You liked that about him. He wasn't like his friend Carlos who had no problem sleeping with whoever he could now that he was unattached. But Alejandro, he just wanted comfort. His heart still belonged to Goyita.

You softly told Alejandro to lay down on his stomach. You straddled his hips as you continued to need the tight muscles in his back. He was quiet today. The last few months he would tell you about Goyita, Franklin, Carlos and all the others. The joys, downfalls, and heartbreak. You cared about him and listened intently. A night with him was a night you weren't spending in some rich man's bed doing things you didn't want to do.

You hummed softly as you worked his shoulders, the back of his neck, and then the broad expanse of the rest of his back. He groaned softly but didn't engage in conversation. You didn't want to pry but you were worried. He had been opening up to you gradually. You knew you didn't have much to offer him aside for a listening ear and a warm body if he aske for it, but it was something.

The silence continued as you worked on the muscles in his lower back, butt and legs. He didn't even swat your hands away when you playfully squeezed his ass cheeks, as he was akin to do. You were growing more worried by the minute. You finished with his legs and nudged him to flip over.

Alejandro stared up at the ceiling, not watching you. He had been shy the first couple meetings but had grown used to watching you, even playing along with your flirting as your fingers worked their magic on his sore muscles. But tonight he ignored you. You spent time on his arms. Kneading his biceps and loosening up his fingers. He had such nice hands that you had found yourself imagining running along your skin for weeks.

You moved down his legs and left his chest for last. You had a feeling that you shouldn't meet his eyes just yet. When you finally straddled his waist and began applying stead pressure in sweeping motions along his chest you met his gaze. The sadness in his dark eyes made you stop. You braced one hand on his chest and reached for his face with the other.

Alejandro leaned into your touch, just as a tear slipped out of the corner of his eye. You wiped it away with your thumb. Before you could ask what was wrong he spoke.

"She got married today," Alejandro's voice was deep and broken. You realized now why he was quiet and so sad. Without a word you leaned down and hugged him. With a practiced twist of your body, you laid down with him pulled into your side, enveloping you in his embrace as you stroked his hair and back.

To your surprise he did not cry anymore, just held onto you tightly and sighed into your hair. You robe had fallen open showing everything except for what your bra and panties covered. His skin was hot against yours as he cuddled you closer. You felt his pain but also how he was slowly relaxing. Your fingers twisted the curls at the nape of his neck. "Are you alright, Ale? If you don't want to be here I understand."

Alejandro sat up slightly, looking down at you with intense eyes. "Why would I leave you? I needed to see you so I came. I wanted to feel something other than that."

You knew what his vague words meant. He wanted a distraction from the pain. "Lay back down, Ale. Let me finish."

Alejandro obediently followed your orders. You straddled him once more and went back to work, kneading his chest and stomach. Then you leant forward and ran your fingertips along his scalp. You watched his features relax as you massaged his head. You fingertips rubbed gentle circles into his temples. He hummed in satisfaction. You finished your ministrations and hovered over him as he opened his eyes.

You could feel his breath mingling with yours. His eyes darkened and you felt arousal pool in your belly. You cupped his cheek and ran a finger across his bottom lip. You focused on how badly you wanted to kiss him. "I know you're hurting, Ale. But give me a chance to prove to you what I can make you feel. It will be anything but painful."

You gently rolled your hips against his which elicited a gasp from the wrestler. You met his gaze and saw a desire there that you had never seen before. With a fluid movement Alejandro moved on top of you, nestled between your thighs, hovering over you. He leaned down so your noses were touching and your lips barely brushing. Alejandro didn't break eye contact as he grinded his hips against yours, pulling a moan from your lips.

His words came out breathy, "Make me feel something."

That was all the permission you needed. You closed the short distance and kissed him fiercely.

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Tenoch with 19

Tenoch lifted you from your desk and down the hall to your bedroom. He had stopped by, with your permission, to pick up some scripts that you had prepared for him. He hadn't expected you to be asleep when he arrived. Asleep on your desk, with half an email written on your computer and a dirty dish beside you.

You'd taken over as his American agent a year ago. He had been a bit skeptical because you were quite a bit younger than him. But you were more than qualified and had been amazing at finding jobs for him that aligned with his own ideals. He had never met an agent who wasn't pushing him hard to do bigger projects for more money even if the scripts were horrible.

He'd told you numerous times how appreciative he was of you. But now that he was here in your humble home, tucking you into bed he felt incredibly indebted to you, and also affectionate. It hadn't escaped him how many scripts and emails you looked through daily. How you so carefully made sure that he had only the best things to choose from. The fame from being in Marvel was unmatched and so were the benefits. But your workload was more than most agents would deal with in a year.

He glance around your room and noticed more piles of scripts, annotated and filled with sticky notes. Tenoch chuckled softly when he found a pile that simply had large handwriting saying "unworthy". There was another smaller pile that had a sticky note marked "negotiable". He wondered how many hours a day you spent making sure his career went well.

Tenoch returned to your side and admired your face. He had always found you to be quite pretty behind the reading glasses, messy hair, and harried appearance. But when your features were relaxed in sleep you were a different kind of gorgeous. It occurred to him that you might be thirsty when you woke up, maybe even be sore from the way you had fallen asleep. He quickly went to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water and the Tylenol you kept on the counter. When he set those on your bedside table he noticed the drawer was open and there was a script inside.

Tenoch hesitated but curiosity got the better of him. He quietly opened the drawer and found a small pile of scripts with a sticky note on top, "To ask Tenoch about". Intrigued he pulled out the pile and sat at the corner of the bed to look them over. They were very different from the things you normally brought to him. Then he noticed that your name was on each one, as the primary or secondary screenwriter.

He glanced at you. If you couldn't be any more perfect, you were also a writer. Tenoch had a special place in his heart for writers. He wanted to read through them but he knew he was already crossing a boundary. Trying not to wake you, he put the scripts back where he found them, determined to bring up the topic of screenwriting the next time he came over.

You mumbled in your sleep, catching Tenoch's eye before he could leave. Once again he was struck by your beauty, "That's a little unfair isn't it, hermosa. To be so beautiful and also so talented. How could I not fall for you?"

Tenoch sighed to himself before turning off the light and leaving you alone. You wouldn't have even known he had passed by that night if he hadn't left a note for you to find.

When you woke up the next morning you immediately drank half the bottle of water as you read the sticky note from the actor.

"Don't work so hard or you'll end up with scoliosis sleeping on your desk like that. I took the scripts but I'll be back again today to talk about some options. Hope you slept well. - Love Tenoch"

You stared at 'Love Tenoch' for an inordinate amount of time. He had never signed off like that before. The butterflies in your stomach that you woke up with were fluttering intensely as you thrust the note into your bedside table. He was just being cute, like always. It didn't mean anything, it couldn't. But a part of you was now wondering if maybe it could mean something.

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Thank you for playing.

Reblog, review, reply.

[kheta]

The Life and Adventures of Severus Snape an Unwilling Isekai Protagonist

(TW: Death, suicide, mutilation, depression, torture.)

Basically just me putting Snape through Pain for about 5000 words.

Severus dies at 29 in his first life. Youngest Triple Master in all of Great Britain, right hand man to the Dark Lord himself, a legend to all but himself. They win the war, he kills Potter in their final skirmish against the Order, Dumbledore keeling over at Bella’s hyena-like screech and Lily laying in the dirt as she had for over five months now. The war is not the glory that had been touted through his school boy days. Instead Severus has the murder of an eight year old on his hands, a mercy kill perhaps, but one that has left him nauseous all the same.

Children were supposed to be protected, it was why he had followed Cyrus to this hellscape, why he had divested himself of his very soul, rotted to coal as it was. Death Eaters originally had a purpose, to protect the traditions of their ancestors, to protect all magical children from the uncouth Muggles who existed only to destabilise their communities.

But they had not protected anyone in their quest for glory. Cissy can no longer look at him, not when he stood there as their Lord, their Leader created a shell of her husband. Cissy refuses to look at him, Draco his godson, now forever cursed with scars from a bout of curiosity that laid him before the Dark Lord’s feet.

Indeed few had left the war unscathed. The turncoat Pettigrew dead in a fool-hardy Gryffindor act of courage, saving whatever remained of that infectious mutt. Avery and Evan, felled by some two-bit Auror. Andromeda the blood traitor, leaving behind an orphan child to be raised by Bella and her ilk. Nose-turned Tuney who used to make Severus and Lily cakes for their birthday each year until their fourteenth, dead only because her Brother-in-law had continued displeasing the Dark Lord. And him, morose and tainted and dark, alone at the shambles in Ends he called home.

There was no glory in bloodshed, no glory in the tainting of his soul. So it stands to reason that there is no glory in his death. He mumbles the killing curse as he has been doing since his sixteenth and greets death with the relief of a sorely missed friend.

This was not the end for Severus Snape.

He wakes warm, dark eyes flashing at him. To a crowd laughing at his humiliation.

Severus apologises to Lily in this lifetime. A whole flurry of nights spent looming outside her common room, waiting for a chance to see her whole. To see her alive. She does not accept, so he rids himself of her, falling back to Cyrus’ side.

He tries harder this time round, drops his DADA and Herbology Masteries so he can see the Death Eaters to their prosperous future. Reminds his friends of the true cause, to protect the future of magical Britain.

It works, for a while. Wilkes never betrays them, Cyrus lives on past Macdonald’s death. Bella never meets the Prewetts, does not lose herself to madness in the wake of Rastaban’s death and Rodolphus’ tightly-wound anger.

It is not enough. Evan dies, taking down as many Aurors as he can. Regulus disappears one day and the resulting snap of his lost magic against Black wards has Bellatrix seeking vengeance at every corner, honing her crucio into perfection.

Their cause crumbles once more, sooner this time around as Severus hears of a cursed prophecy that steers their forces towards children.

In this life, Severus reaches 38, almost ten years older than the last. The casualties in the first war is many and varied, Evan and Avery both still felled in battle. Tuney lives, as does Harry, the bitter reminder of fruitless glory. Lucius coos over his son as he grows, arrogant yet brilliant, a cocky head of blonde hair and soft questions at his godfather.

Bellatrix becomes a cackling madwoman, gone is the snide, rude friend-of-a-friend who would indulge him in battle and wine, leaving behind a cruel shade of the brilliant, loyal witch she was.

Seventeen years he spends protecting the life of a child who he has killed once already, just to sheperd him towards another death.

He knows not what happens to Harry Potter, only that the last thing he sees are eyes that glimmer in a harshly familiar way.

Again he is awakened, bereft of his clothing, a marionette strung up in the air.

He dies too young in his third life, all of twenty, wanting for too much. Playing hands too boldly.

Lily accepts his apologies in this lifetime, accepts him as he shoulders the blame for two lifetimes worth of mistakes. Accepts his humility even as he continues to scheme.

He loves Lily. But he loves Cyrus just as much. The cause for Death Eaters may well fall too soon, may be instead the reason for vitirol hate, but all the same these people who walk in the shadows are his friends. His family. While he knows now that he can never rid himself of the care he felt for Lily, he also knows he can never be free from the bonds he had made as a mouthy, ill-tempered, half-blooded Slytherin. Where Eileen had ignored his existence and Tobias had scorned it, the Slytherin's in his age group had relished in Severus and all of the anger he held. Had seen the abuse he suffered at the hands of people who had not cared for him correctly, yet stuck with him all the same.

But neutrality is only another word for cowardice in the blurry lines of war.

He slips a few times too many. Wants to save all the contained, fleeting moments of happiness he can for those he calls his.

The Order never come to offer him a place at their side, his friendship with Lily still too tenuous to guarantee his loyalty. This is fine with him because he has little loyalty to a side that fights with lofty goals. To a group of bullies and spectators and few truly kind, truly just people.

He denies the mark at every corner, always has an excuse at the ready even as he continues to support the side of Dark, continues to the soirées that mask their actual functions, funnelling information to Lily through thoughtless comments. His friend thinks herself a spy, looking at him with trepidation and guilt aplenty. He plays her as he does everyone else, each thought, each word carefully composed to his advantages. ‘I am not ready, I must complete my Masteries, I am not competent enough, there are potions and spells in need of patenting and an affiliation with the Death Eaters will surely ruin me politically.’ Perhaps he relies too much on the memories of companionship, for the pressure to join digs at each passing meeting.

Either way his lack of a mark, lack of a brand is what kills him. Voldemort is no longer the patient Master he had once been, he takes care to make an example of Severus and his reticence, his disloyalty. Regulus is green as he watches, hands unnaturally still. Lucius is as pale as he had been the second time around, freshly from Azkaban. Bellatrix keeps her lips pursed, eyes far away in the telltale sign of occlusion, she's not lost in the famed Black madness just yet, has toed the line of love, lust and power but not yet crossed it. Cyrus does not look at him at all. Rodulphus the smug bastard grins the whole time. Severus dies in a matter of hours, the pain sharp and slow and seemingly never ending.

A shout of Snivellous, a whip of air tight in his lungs.

Severus is once more cursed with life.

Something inside of him begins to give way, fractured and aching and lounging in the Dark. He has loved Cyrus for three lifetimes now, has wanted so badly for the Dark Lord's vision of an equal, singular world of shared magic to come to fruition. Instead he closes his eyes to visions, to shadows of his friends dying, tortured and lost. To a crumbling system that time and time again put the brutality of mercy-killing children to the forefront of their crusade. He has loved Cyrus three times over and three times over Cyrus has loved Macdonald, has signed himself over to The Dark Lord.

Severus has won the war once, seen the devastation left by it in another life and failed all those dear to him in a third.

For his fourth life he changes his allegiance. The Dark is enticing but he has studied it over three lifetimes, he knows not what the Light has to offer.

Lily accepts his apologies begrudgingly then with palpable relief when he distances himself from Cy– from Mulciber. Never one to do anything in halves, Severus makes a show of befriending her friends and finds himself genuinely shocked when the show becomes a reality. Him and McKinnon will likely never like each other, both too cold, distrustful and guarded, but Mary's hot temper and wicked tongue is less disdainful when he has seen her temper cool and felt the genuine weight of her apologies. Alice is still a raging bitch, but she's like that with everyone so he takes no offence to her burning glares, instead relishing in the hot blush consuming her entire being whenever Longbottom falls to her feet. It's almost a shame to see the not-yet-couple graduate before them.

The four foolish, arrogant, Gryffindor toe-rags are still a bitter fight between the two best friends from Cokeworth, but he learns to quiet his rage, even if he does not imagine ever liking them.

Considering some of the constants across lifetimes, he thinks it will be harder to keep Pettigrew in the Light. Instead the rat-bastard accepts a blithe invitation to the cinema and falls at Tuney's feet, love-struck and vying with a gentle attention that has Lily's cruel sister thoroughly enthralled. Considering her husband across two lifetimes used to beat her silly, he does not complain about the change in pace.

Come the end of Hogwarts he has a tentative peace with Potter, who now lives in genuine fear of what Severus will do to his bollocks if he were to hurt his best friend. He would still sell Black to the dementors for nary a knut, a shared opinion really. He still throws acidic barbs at Lupin, even as he brews Wolfsbane with gathered ingredients, hiding the sliver of kindness behind a Masteries project he has no claim to. Belby delighted in their shared correspondence however, happy to attach his name as a sponsor to Severus' endeavours.

After three lifetimes of Slytherins, its maddening being around so many Gryffindors. They do not hide their plans to overthrow the Dark Lord. They walk into every room with a swagger and run to their future with a bullheadedness he can scarcely understand. Black and Potter steadfast in their desires to be Aurors, taking their Junior positions under the newly married Longbottoms with surprising grace, not offended that the two year gap has already seen the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff couple into Seniority. Pettigrew happy to travel the world with his new girlfriend. Mary and Lily throwing their own weight into healer courses. Lupin is still red-taped and hesitant to find a proper job, McKinnon happy to stumble through life whimsically. Most surprisingly, they do not need to be swayed by his words and neither do they mind when he so obviously plays them to his advantage.

Lupin and McKinnon listen to his arguments against the segregation of Muggle or Magic and House Rivalries widening a divide with rapt attention. They don't offer unsolicited, baseless arguments against Muggle customs entrenched in the hatred of differences, instead researching their rebuttals carefully. The trio spend hours of their first year post Hogwarts trying to define a future shaped by somewhat optimistic Laws that could benefit both wizarding and non-wizarding kind alike. So many hours discussing this in fact, that when the invitation to live on the McKinnon grounds comes, he's not actually that surprised. Her manor is huge and old, but not the looming ancient quality of the Malfoy manor, instead there is life and kindness and love to the wooden structure, to the large, blooming fields.

He plays some bold hands when the trio end up living together, practically throwing a Mastery sponsorship at Lupin and making small, sly comments about Slughorn's impending retirement. The shock of a future has Lupin almost red-faced as he spouts idillic beliefs of a new generation of kindness, of equity coming to grace Hogwarts. McKinnon, no longer drinking herself blind, seems to toy with the idea of a Transfiguration apprenticeship when he brings Avery over for a quick catch up.

He is 19 and also over a hundred and this new world in the Light is so very different to what he thought it would be.

Of course 20 comes in dark and dreary as it wont to do.

Most of his Slytherin friends had seen his loyalty to Lucius and Mulciber wither and die and had left him with cruel sneers and harsh curses that he accepted. He has chosen the Light and left his friends to die. Again he is the youngest Triple Master in all of Great Britain, even younger than his first life. Nothing else is quite the same, not even the Light.

As attacks on Muggleborns get bolder, Dumbledore the paranoid war-general seeks to reap the loyalty he has sown in his ex-students. Again, he does not approach Severus and when the first meeting his friends were invited to finishes, Severus is sat with a full kettle of chai and sweets on the table, his research into blood-wards stretched wide. McKinnon storms in angry in a way that is surprising considering the last three months they have spent living together, even the usually mild look on Lupin's face is tight, lips quivering.

Behind them is the host of Gryffindors he hasn't seen since Yule. He raises a brow, flickering his hand to start on more tea and spelling some liquor to the table. Black wrenches the Firewhisky open, dribbles of alcohol spilling out of a few heavy handed shot glasses.

Through halted, tight breaths they tell him of an Order he was thoroughly aware of; tell him of a meeting he had not been invited to; tell him of an idiotic, hasty decision made by five teenagers who had been obviously throwing themselves to the tides of war. They tell him of loyalty to a bitter, sarcastic, cruel, ugly man who had been enthralled in the Dark and still chose the Light. Tuney and Pettigrew are still travelling across Asia, Pettigrew desperately trying to keep his beloved safe, but the rest of the foolish Gryffindor's had seen his lack of a presence at a meeting so perfectly tailored to their desire and instead, chose him.

Three lifetimes given and in the fourth, he is finally chosen but not by the man he had most wanted. It's a gratifying feeling.

None of them join the Order, though Frank will occasionally drop information at Potter and Black, careful to be wondering aloud and not to them. All of them, all now his to protect, create another option. He desists on his research, entrenching himself instead in the way of Magical Law, forces his knowledge down both Potter and Black's throats because the dunderheads are the future of Wizengamot whether they desire it or not. Vouches for Marley's Transfiguration apprenticeship at Beauxbaton. Assures Remus that there is no betrayal in accepting a job offer at the most prestigious Magic School in Great Britain. Asks for a hushed favour from Peter when Avery comes crashing into the McKinnon estate, cursed to a pale filth and crying for a mark he cannot refuse when his sister is still in school. Lily starts a crusade for an integrated Healer/Auror unit, Mary as her second, even as she retroactively starts researching a specialisation in mind-maladies. He escorts Marley down the aisle at Lily's wedding, brushes shoulders with Remus in drunken glee, shares light-hearted barbs with a pregnant Tuney across the dinner table, Peter's newly met 'cousins' awkwardly sat at the long table with them, Aid brushing their knees together.

It is a start of a future that leaves him all the more hopeful, all the more willing to put his life in the hands of Gryffindor's if they could produce such foolishly bright paths.

This future becomes more solid, a tentative, rocky truce across most of the year levels at Hogwarts, all silently reproachful and admiring of the stunningly fair, scarred Potion Apprentice signing up to take Slughorn's position. A St.Mungos healer makes a poor attempt at stitching up a half-dead Corbin Yaxley and Lily and Sirius sue for malpractice with the sort of indignant, reckless fury he's always known them to posses. Marley loses her parents and it becomes international news, a French Reporter railing for action against the Dark plaguing Britain, decrying the inaction of French Wizardingfolk marking it as cowardly as the inaction France had been met with during Grindelwald's reign, waxing about the small, misfit group that finally took that particular Dark Wizard down. Regulus meets Sirius for an awkward dinner, the two brothers watched carefully by both he and Cissa, the two unrelated Slytherin's in the room both masking their surprise at the protective detail sat in opposite sides of the bar. Cissa could have half this pub in a tangle of rumours and fights before he could draw his wand. He could have Reg sulking at his feet with only a fierce look. The Black brothers chose their overseers well.

Draco Malfoy meets his Uncle Sirius with graceless tugs at black curls and a wide gummy smile that has his once-Godfather cooing like a blithering idiot. His parents quiet and fearful as they tug the wards around them.

Harry James Potter is born and he has his mother's eyes and his father's hair and a bounding of curiosity that has all of his Aunties and Uncles roaring with laughter, parents more frazzled than ever.

Twenty one has never felt more harrowing, and Severus has spent six years in the company of Gryffindor's, so of course their brash stupidity rubs off on him. He knows not what shapes the Dark Lord's horcruxes takes, but he knows enough to distance himself from the future he is seeing, to bury himself in the Dark he has always sought.

Regulus lives past nineteen, dragged ashore by the bitter asshole he had enviously viewed as a traitor and an inspiration at once. The locket is blast with the darkest magic Severus can conjure, he knows his dark magic well and the locket screeches as the soul within it dies. Severus loses a hand to a ring that Dumbledore had sought out, two lifetimes ago, but it is a victorious loss that assures the future of those he calls his. He sprinkles his knowledge of dark magick across the information net that encompasses The Order of The Phoenix, allowing it to slip through his constructed cracks and into the ears of the wisened wizard he respects ardently and hates all the same. His death is a quiet, bitter thing, him and Bellatrix both burning in the tangle of dark, angrily shouted spells, the reclusive safe house of some old Pureblood decaying with him. The snap and crackle of his magic felt by his shrieking, six year old nephew in the Potter Manor and the hoarse, anguished shouts leaving Marley's mouth as the wards that once tethered him to the McKinnon estate released his magic to the world. There is no body to bury, the crips he knows it will be.

A snap, a marionette laying in the air and Severus, once more cursed with life.

He is old, he tries. Rewrites the history of the last two lifetimes, pulling his Slytherin friends ashore to the Light and tethering himself to the Gryffindor's he has come to love.

Twenty three, dead.

Four horcruxes found, destroyed. A patent for a Wolfsbane potion that renders the user of sound mind and turns their bones to jelly just long enough for the transformation to not hurt. No mastery. No nights spent crowded over a kitchen table with Marley and Remus. A crusade of peace and understanding underpinning his every move. Avery dead for abandonment of duty at seventeen, Mulciber sentenced to a kiss for murdering a minor, Bellatrix once more drowning in grief of her baby cousin's death.

Again.

Frank is a single father at twenty four, Neville not even one yet. Alice avenged by Moody, his anger taking down the stuttering Avery and the overtly powerful Lestrange brothers. Marley is finishing up a study in Magical Law and plays footsie with Meadows whenever they go pub-crawling. Sirius becomes Lord Black as soon as Regulus is of age, his younger brother relinquishing the title and fleeing to studies in Egypt. Peter dies at eighteen, a raid in Knockturn Alley turning violent by the presence of Death Eaters and too rough Aurors, Tuney survives and never steps foot in Magical Britain again. Harry is born and he and his parents are given warded necklaces, tokens to protect them from as much Dark Magic as is feasible. Voldemort is defeated, but not dead, the Potter family somehow safe in the aftermath of the attack. Remus takes on the role of DADA Professor and lives to carry that title on for more than 5 years. His connections to these people become tenuous the longer he passes through their lives. He has no godchildren and no one to come home to disappearing in the cloak of nightfall and spreading his magical research across the continent with broad strokes and badly maintained whispers in the right ears. All in all this is the only death not made in the throes of war, he dies at twenty nine, during the peace filled years in an unexpected car wreck.

Just once more.

Mary dies a week from graduation, taking Mulciber down in the scuffle. Lily disarms and arrests Bellatrix Lestrange two years into being an auror. James lives to name his son and can never again hold his frail form, never again ride a broom, not with the soft whisper of crucio creating tremors from his once steady grip. Out of pure spite, Severus throws tomes of wandless magic at the once auror, refusing to see the man who had run head first into war become a snivelling, regretful coward. Marley and Meadows hold hands as they walk down the street, both already making names for themselves in the Ministry, unafraid to use nepotism to their advantage if it meant fighting for their relationship to be open and honest. Regulus dies fresh from Hogwarts, and there are no apologies sincere enough, no rationalisation strong enough to salvage the friendship Sirius had with Lily. Sirius loves James and loves Harry and can never forgive Lily. Remus fights the war and loses a foot for it, but he finds a quiet cottage to call home in Ottery St.Catchpole and ends up in some odd, quasi threesome and marriage with the Lovegoods that he does not mention in any length. Peter and Tuney still live in Cokeworth, have two sons both glad to look over their baby cousin once he starts Hogwarts. Severus once again falls to the shadows, trying his damndest to kill the wizard he once admired, to finally put a damn end to this curse. He dies as the Dark Lord is once more resurrected, his flung protego protecting Diggory, but not even his strongest wards, his strongest tokens can stop Evan from drawing Harry's blood to the caldron. He spells the portkey to the foolish boys he had come to protect and hears Harry's shout of no in the same moment he sees the jet of dark green flying his way.

By his eighth life he is so tired of war. Does not care if Dumbledore wins or Voldemort wins or if his friends die. He has witnessed so many iterations of them fall before him.

Severus dangles in the air, falls against the ground and does not move.

His mind is a fracture of mazes and occlusion is the only peace he knows, burying what remains of his conscious beneath the icy depths of water.

Through a haze he sees faces. Genuine concern in cool, blue eyes, no twinkle in sight. Guilty, surly faces of enemies and friends and people he may yet love. Severus has played fate so many times, he is so tired, prefers to sit himself unmoving in a white hospital bed. Cyrus kisses him exactly once, the raging inferno of thousands dispelling the calm of his steady river. Severus sinks further, intent to never again see the light of day.

He does not know when he dies, notices a steady lack of visitors, meets a cherub faced Harry and loud hollering Draco and knows no more. Then a blank series of nurses and the old coot who was the most piss poor Headmaster to ever grace the earth. Seeing the ageing visage almost has him leaving the peace of his own mind, though he manages to wrangle those intentions far below the surface.

Snivellous.

Godric Almighty he's fucking sick of this shit. He breaks the spell he had created so many lifetimes ago with ease, lets the familiar weight of his wand rest to his hand, tilting the wooden conduit to his chin and traumatising more than fifty kids by just topping himself there and then.

ANOTHER ONE!

He doesn't care if he has to off himself a thousand more times. He. Will. Not. Stay.

A few Ravenclaws and Gryffindors misreads his intent and disarms him when his magical core begins to coarse with violent, deadly cracks in the ground. Dumbledore comes to speak to him, he does not care. A whole week spent planning his inevitable demise, waiting for Poppy's damned charms to free him from their horrifying, well-meaning grasp. When he's finally released he storms to the top of the Astronomy tower and just jumps.

Of course he had forgotten about the hedge magick surrounding Hogwarts. Another five days of sad useless interrogations and crying Lily and angry Cyrus. When he's at the Great Hall that night, he's so mad that two attempts had failed and just plunges a butter knife as violently as he can through his neck. Sod everyone else.

But no, no dying doesn't work. Death doesn't want him. Not in the tenth life, the fourteenth life, not in his seventeenth life will he finally stay down.

He's tried it all. Suicide by cop, mauled by animals, starvation. It does not stick. He runs away to the Muggle World, does his O-Levels and A-Levels, gets a degree in Chemical Engineering and a Muggle Husband and Son that he gets to see murdered before his very eyes. Very much not because of magic, no, but because apparently leaving your ex-wife for your son's primary Science teacher is a crime punishable by death. Apparently picking your wonderful, kind Da over your abusive, psycho Mum is all strangers need to kill you like mindless savages.

After that awfulness, he runs to East Asia, learning ancient branches of magic. Ignores his unfinished OWLs and the degree he does not have and the permits he most certainly lacked as he trudges through Mainland China, Taiwan, Bangkok, Singapore, India, through the Middle East. He learns enough magic to no longer need a wand, ever, though he shrinks his wand and attaches it to an earring, if only for the companionship it has given. Dies facing a particularly pissed dragon in this life.

Out of boredom he becomes an screen-writer and actor, just drops school and uses ancient Chinese rituals to spell his hair sleek and silky, uses colour correcting charms passed through Indian households to even out his skin tone. A Filipino potion has the bones of his teeth and nose evening out into something more normal looking. By the end of it he might have actually looked a bit fit. A few lifetimes having to lie his way to Helheim and back means he's something of a good actor with enough tragic stories to tell, that he's never in need of a role. He's been through enough pain, enough anger, enough betrayal to embody every character given to him smoothly, to give charming, dry smiles at his co-stars after performing monologues that leave them gasping in fear. This is a fun life, spent with magic oozing from his every move and addled by whatever drug seems to hit his fancy. Bellatrix hunts him down after he's nominated for an Oscar for his role as a naive General under Hilter's regime in love with a poor, captive Jewish mother. Not his own work, but it's his first Oscar nomination so he's a bit smug and really fucking trashed when she finds him at his unguarded apartment. She calls him a blood-traitor and fool and scorns the power she can feel radiating from him, unmasked and developing with him. She gives him a choice for glory. Severus has known glory and hated it all the same, so he sends her off with a kiss against her cheek and promises for dinner. Two days later Macnair, Rosier, Crouch and Scabior come to claim the dinner invite he had given and honestly, it's just easier letting them kill him then it is to fight back. Based on the sharp gleam in his eyes and the sudden raising of brows, Evan realises he had given up long before they got there.

He does manage to kill Voldemort, for good in his eighteenth life. Just follows his magical signature set on the ring to the rest of the bloody horcruxes and uses some refined Japanese spellwork to mutilate the damned things. But Voldemort's death makes no happy ending, creates instead a power vacuum that is still unstable when he steps into as the new Dark Lord. Cissa kills him in this lifetime, a poison in his drink that he could smell when he'd kissed her fingertips.

By the time his twentieth lifetime comes, Severus has knowledge of every form of magic known to wizarding kind, except the kind that will ensure he is never again reborn, has exactly no attachments to anyone and is only searching for a peaceful way to die.

Content to let things lie, he waits until Potter has placed him back on the ground. Spells his wand to a makeshift earring. Flies off to hunt horcruxes, but does not kill the Dark Lord because he can't be arsed looking for the paranoid man on top of everything else. Writes theses under psuedo-nyms, sends ideas where they can be cultivated, puts a very particular potion recipe in Lupin's room and goes searching through Ethiopia to Pakistan looking for a good and permanent death.

Why Potter nee Evans, McKinnon, Mulciber, Malfoy and Malfoy nee Black decide to interrupt this journey almost four years later, he hasn't the faintest idea.

Life would be so much better if he could just die.

(If ever I come back to this, the original idea is Lily, Marlene and Narcissa decide to investigate what the hell happened to Severus Snape and why their family magic seems to be honing in on the supernova that is his magical signature. Lucius is going so those damned Gryffs don't hurt his lovely wife and Cyrus just wants to know why the heck he keeps seeing Snape die. Along the way they decide to get attached to him and make sure he's just as attached to them and not spending all of his waking time trying to off himself. It's a particularly long journey.)

[nyxicnymph]

Meteor Showers

A Ganyu x Yanfei fanfic for Ganyu's birthday, based off of the song Meteor Showers by Cavetown.

Ganyu looked up from her desk at a gentle, yet insistent tapping. Her eyes met the deep teal of her partner's. Yanfei smiled at her.

"Ready to wrap it up?"

Ganyu blinked, then nodded as she stood up and began to pack up. Once she was done, Yanfei extended her hand, and Ganyu took it. The two girls left the Qixing building hand-in-hand, the sunset casting a golden glow over the harbor.

Ganyu had many regrets in her long long life, but Yanfei, and their relationship, did not fall into those regrets. Yanfei was clear cut and easy to understand, not confusing like some of Ganyu's other friends. Maybe it was just Ganyu, but either way, she was glad she had Yanfei.

The sun slowly crept beneath the horizon as they strolled down to the lower side of the city, slowly making their way to the southern wharf. Yanfei stopped to the side, and for a moment, Ganyu panicked, worrying that she'd upset Yanfei with her silence.

But Yanfei had just stopped at the jewelry shop to look at something. She brushed off the lady's attempts to persuade her into buying something, and rejoined Ganyu.

"Sorry, I thought something looked familiar. Unfortunately, I was wrong."

Ganyu nodded as Yanfei took her hand again. "So, what's the plan for tonight? You don't ask me out unless you have a plan, usually."

Yanfei giggled. "well, there's a meteor shower predicted for tonight. I wanted to show you. Even if you've seen a million of them, I wanted to see one with you."

Ganyu's heart warmed. "I would watch a billion meteor showers with you."

Yanfei grinned. "You're so sweet, Ganyu. Come on, I need to pick something up from Third Round."

Ganyu happily followed her beloved up to the restaurant, and while Yanfei was inside, gave a small wave to Zhongli. He smiled and nodded back at her, before turning his attention back to Tiang. As Ganyu waited, she saw the Tianqiang coming up as well, and she quickly looked away. She didn't need to know.

Thankfully, Yanfei returned then, and handed a covered a basket to Ganyu. "Quickly now, I don't want to miss it."

"Me neither," Ganyu agreed, excitement starting to pulse through her body.

They laft the city, and started heading towards the Golden House. Yanfei found a small clearing, and seemingly out of nowhere, she laid a blanket on the ground, and set her basket on top of it. Ganyu followed her lead, and then sat on the blanket. Yanfei sat next to her, and began to pull food out of the baskets.

"I actually didn't order much, but in the event of us not finishing any of it, we can always take it home."

Home. A word that Ganyu used frequently, but never used to associate it with any one person or place. Home used to be wherever she needed to be. Not a place to rest, relax, to hide from the world and recover.

But now her home was Yanfei, was wherever Yanfei wanted to be. And Ganyu felt she finally understood what "home" meant.

"You're drifting, love," Yanfei said, bringing Ganyu back to earth. "We still have some time before the meteor shower. Here, have my plate. You don't have to eat everything, but eat something, okay?"

Ganyu nodded as she accepted the plate from Yanfei. "I love you, you don't have to do all this."

Yanfei pressed a kiss to Ganyu's cheek. "I love you too, that's why I do it."

A half hour passed before the sky began to start changing. Unfortunately, it wasn't filling with illusions of falling stars, but instead with clouds. Yanfei quickly stood up.

"No! Go away, clouds!"

Ganyu's eyes widened as she realized what was about to happen. "Yanfei, we need to get to cover! It's about to rain!"

Yanfei cursed, and quickly packed up the remains of their evening picnic. Ganyu formed an umbrella with her cryo vision and held it over both of their heads. This time, Yanfei took both baskets in one hand, and used her free hand to hold Ganyu's empty one.

"I could carry one," Ganyu insisted.

Yanfei shook her head. "I want to hold your hand. Don't worry, love, they weren't heavy to begin with, and since we both ate, they're less so now."

Yanfei was always phrasing things like that, making sure Ganyu knew she wasn't at fault for eating, whether a little or a lot. She wondered if Yanfei knew how much it meant to her.

Just as they began walking back to the harbor, Ganyu felt the shift in the clouds, and channeling more cryo energy into her umbrella, started sprinting, pulling Yanfei along. The heavens opened up, and a cold ran came pouring down.

It wasn't cold enough, though, because each drop that hit the icy umbrella over their heads melted it just a little bit more. Ganyu kept repairing it as best as she could, but it wasn't holding out. So, just before she let the umbrella go, she pulled Yanfei off the road, and dashed for the nearest ramshackle building. She vaguely recognized it as one of the impromtu inns from when Ningguang was rebuilding her Jade Chamber, but that didn't stay long. It was just shelter.

Yanfei giggled breathlessly. "Wow. So I guess we did get a shower. Even if it wasn't the shower we wanted."

She inhaled after her giggling, and just took in the moment. In the stormy darkness, her hair mingling with Ganyu's in the tiny space, the pink and the blue swirling together like sugar candy. She turned her head just enough to reach Ganyu's ear.

"How did you know that they were rain clouds?"

Ganyu flushed. "I could feel them. Half Qilin."

"Oh, right! Archons, you're so cool." Then Yanfei winked. "And not just because of your vision."

Ganyu buried her face in Yanfei's shoulder. "You continue to fluster me."

"Might as well make the most of this moment!" Yanfei said happily. "Still. I'm sorry your birthday surprise got rained on."

"My birthday?"

"Mhm. I figured you wouldn't remember, so I wanted to surprise you. Instead, it seems I've gotten you rained on."

"Yanfei."

She looked into Ganyu's eyes, which were suddenly serious. "Yes, Ganyu?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"Always."

And so fire met ice under an abandoned porch roof on the outskirts of Liyue Harbor, in a simple declaration of affection.

[jodilin65]

THURSDAY, JUNE 30, 1994 Wow! It’s so much cooler in this house than it has been in a few weeks. Especially in my room. Tom switched over to the AC till we get the other EC going.

I put the wedding card that came with the candlesticks my folks sent in the back of this book.

I’d like to write more, but first I’d like to go make some coffee and see what the talk topic is on Jerry Springer.

Later…

Now that was both spontaneous and fun! Tom came in and laid down with me cuz my lungs were a little tight. After whacking my back he went down there.

Later…

Tom’s leaving for work real soon, and I’m surprisingly not too tired. I’m probably going to listen to music soon.

Boy, has it been unusually hot with temps of 115º daily. In Laughlin, they hit 125º! In Lake Havasu, they hit 128º! God, I hope that never happens here. If I could pick the same low and high every day, I’d pick a low of 70º and a high of 110º. That’d keep the pool comfy. It’d also hopefully keep it as quiet as it has been all year round. Maybe keep the kids next door permanently in Idaho. It has been so quiet here and sooo nice. Oh, I hope it stays this way!

Today we’re ordering Denise Austin’s 1-2-3 Tone Up. I can’t wait to do it and I know it’ll be so much easier for me to stick to. Those other videos I have are just too much and too overwhelming. This should cut to the chase.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 29, 1994 Uh-oh. It feels like my tooth is wiggling more.

So, how’s videography going? Well, Tom’s making a program that’ll make it plainer and simpler. The idiot who wrote the program we have is definitely stupid and they obviously like to confuse people. Also, the movie I taped is of lousy quality, therefore the pictures are grainy. The Guardian tape is top-notch, so that’s why its pictures came out clearer. We don’t have a video processor, either. I’m going to try to find this movie in a video store. Tom printed a picture of Andy performing. This was from when we were in the finals at the Frontier. It’s shitty, but there’s nothing we can do.

I also finished Andy’s 3-page letter, so I’ll mail that out tomorrow, along with letters to Bob and Kim.

I made spaghetti and two sandwiches for Tom.

His birthday could’ve been a lot better, but he had lots of errands and an upset stomach.

The house is officially ours today and we mailed out the insurance forms, in case I forgot to say. I still have to change my license, get a new SS card, and a new doctor God, do I hate having to start all over with a new doctor!

We went to Christown Mall and Tom got a dress shirt, new shoes, and a tie cuz he has a job interview tomorrow.

We went swimming today and that’s about it.

Later…

I got two packages from Mom and Dad today. One with the jewelry and another with silver candlesticks. There were about 5 rings that were nice but didn’t fit. I have on a really nice gold bracelet, and there are a few other necklaces and earrings they sent that are really nice. She enclosed a note saying the dishwasher is to come. I can’t wait for that.

Tom and his brother David (now my brother-in-law) brought the EC over. We hope to have it set up in a few days.

Should I go for a swim right now? Sure. Why not?

TUESDAY, JUNE 28, 1994 Good fucking God! I thought printing pictures would be a breeze now, but no. I’m having trouble with picture sizes, clarity, and all kinds of other shit. I need to work with Tom a while longer till I can be on my own, but will he have the time? We’ve got a lot of shit going on that we both have to take care of.

I have to get a new SS card, a new license, and a new doctor. Plus, his sister Mary’s getting married on July 16, so I’ve got to be prepared for that. I think this Sat. she’s supposed to be having a family get-together, too.

I’m so confused with videographing that I’m not even sure how to word or describe my questions to Tom. Well, if I can’t ever learn how to do it on my own, then so be it.

I got 3 Bob letters today but was too lazy to type his or anyone else letters.

I typed up #38 & #39. So, that leaves #’s 40, 49, 52, 53, & 62 to type up first since they should go faster. Also, #41 and a few others may go faster cuz there are letters written in them. This is before I put all my letters into their own books. I will not be typing up any letters.

At about 7:00 last night I gave Tom his birthday letter and his two pairs of shorts. Thankfully, he really liked them a lot and doesn’t need to get them exchanged.

Since I don’t know how to bake a cake, and it’s too hot for that anyhow, I made up some pudding. He found the candles and put them in the fridge. I stuck them in the pudding.

Well, I guess that’s all for now.

Oh, Tammy got the video. She said it was beautiful, but she felt bad cuz no one was there, but as I told her, that’s what we wanted.

MONDAY, JUNE 27, 1994 Boy, has it been hot! It’s been holding a steady 114º for nearly a week now. The only time it’s comfortable in here is very late at night. That is, till we build the EC that’s going in the back room.

I did a lot of swimming today and so did Tom. He also mowed and worked on the sign program.

We went over and filled out the health insurance forms, too.

Last night I typed Tom up a little birthday letter. I hope to hell I can find candles around here. I don’t know how to bake a cake or care to in this heat. However, I know he loves pudding. I was going to make some up and stick candles in that. They’ll hold. Let me go check to see if I can find any candles.

Later…

Shit. Can’t find any candles around here. I left a home memo for Tom on the VM to let me know if he finds any around here cuz it’s been so hot that I think they should be refrigerated. Of course, I’m not stupid and neither is he, but I can’t find them.

I can’t wait to give him his presents. Those two pairs of shorts. And I hope to hell they fit OK.

In 24 hours, I typed up #38 and #16. Cool, huh? I also typed up letters to Tammy and my parents. Hopefully tomorrow I’ll get letters from Bob and Kim. Tomorrow I’ll type them letters, or whenever I get any from them.

We’re expecting lots of stuff in the mail. Our wedding pictures, the ribbons, work for me, and other stuff. I just can’t remember all we’re expecting, but I know there’s more.

Later…

I just went to set the VCR to tape a movie that looks like it oughta be good. I’ve still got a 4-hour movie to watch. That’ll be good for days, or nights for that matter when I’m so incredibly bored.

I don’t think I’ve written about a certain letter I sent to both my parents and Tammy right before we left for Vegas, so I may as well write about it now. In the letter, I mentioned how they’ve helped me financially, were there for me to talk to (especially Tammy), and gave me my dream of Arizona. I said I had one more favor to ask them that was non-material. That is, even though I’m not a rich and famous singer, would they acknowledge me as one in their hearts and minds? Would they put it in writing, I asked, cuz I want to put it in this journal even if their answer isn’t what I want to hear. I haven’t heard about it and I probably never will, but we’ll see.

God, it’s so fucking warm in here! Can’t wait for that other EC!

Andy met that guy Chris. He says he’s not the best-looking guy, but far from the worse and so far they have really hit it off and Andy doesn’t want to judge him only by his looks. Especially cuz he wants a full-time relationship and no longer wants to fling around.

Later…

My hair is so long and so thick. I just wish there was a comfortable bathing cap that would hold all this hair cuz the pool kills it and it’s such a pain.

Boy, Tuesday will be a busy day. We have lots of errands and still lots of things we need and want to do.

I can’t wait till we build Piggy’s cage. I’ve always wanted and thought how neat that’d be to have for every single guinea pig I have ever had. He’ll love it too, I’m sure.

I really hope I get mail tomorrow. I am so anxious for the ribbons to get here. I’m going to have so much fun making all kinds of pictures for my bedroom walls. It’s about time, too. My walls have been the same ever since I moved in here, so they could use a change and a new look.

As of today, I’ve been doing journals for 6 years and 8 months. That’s a long fucking time!

I keep forgetting to read Tom Fran’s letter to Sabrina. Maybe I’ll do that on his birthday on Tuesday.

His parents sent him a check for $37. A dollar for every year. I guess that’s what they do with all the kids every year.

I am so hungry now, so I’m going to break for a bite to eat, then return.

Later…

Yuck! That macaroni and cheese from KFC tasted like shit, then the bottom of the Styrofoam cup it was in fell off, too.

Piggy looks so hot. I’ll bet he is wearing all that fur. I just put the blue ice in. It’s not really ice, though, just this blue plastic thing from the freezer that Tom told me about.

SUNDAY, JUNE 26, 1994 Shortly after 3 PM, Marla, her son, and Andy got here. Timothy was surprisingly calm, obedient, and non-destructive.

Poor Marla’s humongous, but her face and hair look better than the last time I saw her.

During the wedding video playback, Andy was the only one who watched it entirely as Marla was busy bombarding Tom with countless computer-related queries. Andy concurred that both Tom and I appeared larger on video. I have always believed that video makes everyone appear larger unless they’re bone thin.

It was so funny cuz Marla was saying how she used to babysit all of us kids but I was too young to remember. I was barely 2 years old. Marla’s 44, so there’s a huge age difference. She said rather than my mom asking, she’d call up demanding that she babysit us. She said she felt so bad for us kids and seeing mom treat the dogs like gold and us like dirt. She said it took a whole 24 hours or so to get us laughing and that she’d constantly try to praise us and compliment us. She said Ma treated me differently when I was very little cuz she supposedly felt guilty about my ear. Well, she certainly didn’t treat me any differently or any better when I got older. She said she couldn’t stand babysitting us and had to stop cuz she felt so bad for us all.

Andy said Marla said I looked the best she’s ever seen and says I’m in great shape. That’s cool.

Tom did a lot of work on his car today but I guess there’s more work to be done on it to pass emissions.

We discussed building a huge cage for Piggy. One with split levels and places for him to hide. He’d love a huge cage like that.

Gloria was on the American Bandstand, but I haven’t seen it yet, cuz I’m now using that tape to record a 4-hour movie.

Did I mention that Tammy still hasn’t gotten the tape?! What the fuck’s taking so long? I hope she gets it Monday.

SATURDAY, JUNE 25, 1994 I got up at 11:30 today and shortly after noon, Andy called. Andy, Marla and her son will be over soon. I sure hope they’re not here long and that Timothy doesn’t destroy this place. Andy says he’s been pretty good and that he’ll keep a constant eye on him. I hope so, cuz that’s what Kara used to say.

I wonder what’s going on with Kara these days. Did she try to become a cop? Is she in Arizona or did she go back to Michigan?

Later…

Andy just called and they’re going to be an hour late and not get here till 3:00. At 4:40 she’s got to be at the airport. They’ll probably be here for about an hour.

I think I’ll go do some typing now of journal #10, which I began last night.

I’m down to 100 pounds from 104 pounds, so that’s good.

Oh, Tom turned on the mister that’s out on the back patio. It’s really nice and very refreshing. I’ll probably go skinny-dipping tonight at 8:00 when all the bees are gone.

Later…

Andy just called and they’re leaving in 5 minutes, so they’ll be here in 20 minutes.

I just did lots of typing, and God only knows what I’m going to do after they leave. Tom’s going to work on his car and I’ll probably type and listen to music till I go swimming.

We’ve been too busy to fool around and my appetite’s gone up a little, but that’s cuz I’m about 9 days away from my next curse. I’ve been taking care of myself and I can continue to do so till we have more time.

I didn’t get any mail today or Thurs. and Fri. Tammy still hasn’t gotten the tape of our wedding. I hope she gets it soon. Maybe today Nervous got all of Fran’s letters which I mailed him.

I hope Andy and Marla don’t laugh too hard over the video. I’m not in the mood to be embarrassed, even though you get used to it.

What else can I say till their arrival? Nothing, I guess.

FRIDAY, JUNE 24, 1994 Not much happened today, other than the fact that it was incredibly hot. I got 3 letters from Kim and 2 from Bob.

Andy drove over with some money he owed me, and in the car were Marla and her 1-year-old son Timothy who he’d just picked up at the airport. I ran out to the car to get my money and to show Andy the shirt and necklaces I got in Vegas.

Thank fucking God we’re not living in apartments that are connected. They’re all the same out here. Even if I lived next door to where he is now, I’d easily feel his elephant walk.

So, what did I get last night at the mall? Well, I went into a store where everything’s a buck. I got a pearl necklace with a diamond-like stone in a gold-plated oval shape. A pearly hair clip and a silver barrette that’s hard to describe. I also got a $10 skirt (cotton with little flowers) and a blue tank top with a zipper in front for $7.

Lastly, I bought Tom two pairs of shorts for his birthday. One of cotton that’s black, and a blue silk pair. I sure hope they fit and that he likes them.

That night Andy gave me Sabrina’s letters and she and I wrote to him today. He put 2 letters in 1 envelope and a card. Bob has never ever mentioned getting Andy’s letter. He said he never got the letter I sent to an inmate, either. Are those fucking guards, who think they’re God, playing games? Bob says one of them’s running around telling people what he’s in for. Yeah, I believe that.

Males! I love Tom, but I still can’t stand males in general. They’re liars, bullies, and sluts. Although, if I’d been able to get all the women I wanted, once upon a time, I’d have been a slut, too.

Guess I’ll go finish my coffee, then try to sleep. If I can’t sleep, I’ll be back to write more of whatever.

Later…

Actually, I don’t really feel like going to bed yet, so what shall I write about? Well, Fran called 3 times asking about Sabrina. What else is new with him, huh? I died laughing when he said he wanted to marry Sabrina and he asked her if she’d have his child. How can anyone be so desperate as to ask someone they’ve never met to marry them and have their child?

I also got a kick out of his description of the temperatures. He said it goes from “20% to 110%.”

Nervo and Crystal oughta get a royal kick out of his letters. If they read them, and I really hope to hell they do.

I finished typing up #9 and tomorrow I’ll start #10.

So, what’s going on with the package of jewelry Ma said she mailed? And the dishwasher? I know Andy can’t get us anything cuz he’s broke, but I understand that. Plus, he just had to get his brother Gary a b-day present back in MA.

Fran says that anytime from now till Oct. he’ll be moving to Chicopee. Why is he going to move there? What the hell’s in Chicopee for the guy?

I asked him if he’s run into Nervous, but he says no.

Later…

Today’s been a stressful day. First, it was a fucking sauna in here and there’s not much we can do to fix it right now. Poor Tom had a million errands to do as well as to put an up duct in my room and work on his car.

Lastly, about 10 minutes ago, Andy surprised us with a visit with Marla and her son. I hate that and Tom does, too. They’re stopping by tomorrow afternoon, too. They want to see the wedding video. Marla wants to see the house and meet Tom, but she already did a little while ago.

Tammy hasn’t gotten the video yet, but I called Dad and they both said it was very beautiful. Dad said I didn’t look any bigger. Thank God I don’t!

Tom also picked up our rings today and at first, I thought I’d have to bring mine back. It’s a 4¼ and I thought I’d have to get a 4½ cuz it was so tight. It feels more comfortable now. I guess I just had to get used to it.

Later…

I just opened all the files to journals 1-9 and got all the statistics on it. Norah’s story, too.

Tom showed me today that the floppy disk I’m using holds 1.4 megabytes and I’ve used ¾ of it already! When I called Tammy, I said, “Three-quarters of a megabyte!”

She said, “What?”

I said, “I thought you knew a lot about computers.”

She said, “Yeah, right!”

Well, I thought she’d know all about what I was talking about, but since she didn’t I explained it all to her. I told her I typed 9 journals and a story.

THURSDAY, JUNE 23, 1994 Another lovely letter from Fran to Sabrina! It’s 6-7 pages and funny as all hell. I just copied it and I’ll be sending the original copy to Nervous. Crystal still lives there. The other day I figured - what the hell, and called him. He answered and was all set to talk to me till she screamed, “Hang up!” She sure has him wrapped around her finger.

I do have more to write about, such as what I got Tom for his b-day at the mall. I went with Andy. However, I’m really getting tired, so I’ll write another time.

TUESDAY, JUNE 21, 1994 Today and yesterday I mailed 3 envelopes off with forms for home office work. I hope at least one of them amounts to any good.

Last night Andy read me 3 letters to Sabrina that came in 1 envelope. They were hysterical, as usual. When we get together tomorrow night, he’ll give them to me. I hope nothing gets in the way of him picking me up tomorrow, as he’s doing me a huge and important favor.

Tom’s b-day is on the 28th, so I’ll be getting him God knows what.

I finished typing up my story till up to this book. I figure that every 5 journals or so I’ll update it, adding it to its document on the computer. I’ve also printed it out, but I won’t print out any journal stuff. I have 37 pages of it printed. A lot, huh?

Larry called yesterday from a truck stop in Ohio and said maybe he and Larry could come here sometime this summer. He admitted to having numerous affairs, which I figured. He says he doesn’t do it anymore, but I doubt that even though I couldn't care less. He congratulated me on getting married and then shocked me by saying he always knew I’d succeed in life. How nice. He tells me that my niece Jenny is into all types of dancing, mainly ballet, and will be taking up the flute. That’s cool.

When I casually mentioned Tammy and said how bad I felt for her, he said, “Yeah, I do too, but shit happens. There’s nothing I can do for her.”

He said he was on his way to CT, then on home to MA for a while.

I called Tammy after we hung up, knowing she won’t tell anyone and was beyond getting mad or hurt, and told her of my talk with Larry. She said, “Fine! Fuck it then! I’ve gone for 9 years, so I’ll go another 9 years.” I reminded her she’ll always have a sister and has been compensated with a brother-in-law.

Now I’m going to go do more typing on #9.

MONDAY, JUNE 20, 1994 On the 14th, the day we were to leave, Tom went and took some money out of my account. When he came home he was wondering if I called SS and SSI to appeal my case. Well, I didn’t, but both checks were there for June 1st and 3rd. What a lovely wedding present from the government. It is nice to see that after all those years of them fucking up on me in a bad way, they’ve finally fucked up on me in a good way. They owe it to me and if they try demanding any of it back, they ain’t getting it. Their letters to me did not come certified and I didn’t appeal regardless of that, so it’s their own mistake which I’m not paying for.

Andy was laughing at how I used the government’s money to gamble. Yup, I sure did.

I hope they screw up again in July, and it’s a good thing I didn’t go run and close my account.

We got new videotapes and I finally learned how to video edit! Tom and Andy were right. It is easy.

SUNDAY, JUNE 19, 1994 Boy oh boy, do I have lots and lots of catching up to do in this book! OK, I just looked back at the last entry to see where I left off. I forgot to say that we were lucky enough to be on the top floor (the 28th), and what a view of the castle! We gambled every day and it was sooo much fun, even though we lost about $300. There were thousands of slot machines. They all had so many different designs on them. My favorite slot machine was called Casino Night. It won me 200 quarters 3 times! Lots of 20s, 10s and 4s, too, but like I said, I ended up losing it all. Sometimes we played together and other times we separated. We both only played the slot machines. We didn’t gamble with other people like in blackjack or other games. Some machines didn’t pay off that much, and others had a huge progressive jackpot.

We arrived there at 9 PM, so we weren’t up long. Just long enough to do a little gambling and see some shops and eat dinner. We got up at 6 AM the next morning and went to a really nice breakfast buffet. It was the 15th, of course, the day of the wedding. We pretty much gambled till 2:30 when the limo driver came to pick us up at the hotel. He took us to the courthouse to get the marriage license. First time in a very long time with me being in a courthouse where I wasn’t in any trouble. The clerk there asked me if “Lin” was spelled right. I was like, no! I don’t know how to spell my own middle name.

On the way to the Las Vegas Garden Wedding Chapel, I saw the famous lighted cowgirl and cowboy. So, at the wedding chapel, which was gorgeous, I wasn’t at all nervous till the ceremony started. I wore that royal blue tank top/shorts (1 piece) that looks like it’s a skirt, my black pumps, the earrings Ma sent me and one of the beautiful necklaces I bought. I had my hair down and wore makeup.

Tom wore black sneakers only because they were black so you couldn’t see them in detail, so it didn’t look funny. Also, black slacks and his new light blue dress shirt we got him before we left.

I had a bouquet of silk flowers instead of real ones. That’s better cuz real ones would die off in a day and bother my allergies.

The minister went over the ceremony with us first and we let him know we wanted a civil one and not a religious one. Also, no saying that I agree to “obey” him.

So, they took pictures and videotaped the little ceremony we had. I’m sending my sister and parents a copy, but I’m so embarrassed! Tom, on the other hand, looked great and was so calm. I was shaking like Nervous and looked so bow-legged and so chunky.

I hope the pictures come out well. Today Tom got video mailers, so I’ll mail them their copies tomorrow. And also, I’m sending Kim back her two tapes of those funny answering machine messages.

So anyway, after the wedding, we got back to the hotel at 4 PM and called Tammy and my parents. They were very happy for us. Then, we fooled around for an hour or so, then we went to an old-fashioned and ugly place for prime rib dinners. The prime rib was great, though. After dinner, we gambled till we crashed which was early. At 4 AM Tom woke me up when he turned the light on in the bathroom. I was beat, but I got up anyway.

We went for breakfast across the way at the MGM Grand, and oh my God! That place was awesome, even though it was dead. Tom said he went to other nearby hotels/casinos without me and they were also dead. At the MGM there was a huge display of Dorothy and The Wizard of Oz and all the other characters with props that go with the movie. There were also lasers and a sound machine that made thunder and lightning. The next time we go there, we’d maybe like to stay at the MGM Grand, The Pyramid, Luxor, Tropicana, or wherever.

Anyway, it was just all so gorgeous inside and outside. I really wished we had a camera, but we hope to the next time around. If they blew Phoenix off the map, I’d definitely move to Vegas.

The pen I’m now writing with came from the room. I got other little things here and there too, from the room. Cups, a pad, soap, lotion, etc.

So our last day there, the 16th, we pretty much gambled till we left for the airport. We got back to the house at 11 PM, and yes, Tom carried me over the threshold. Almost forgot, though.

When I got back there were 3 letters from Bob. One had a letter from his friend Brian in it. It was nice, and I wrote them both back. I got 2-3 more letters from him (Bob) over the next two days as well.

I called Tammy and my parents. Dad has the Father’s Day banner across their entertainment center. Cool. I wasn’t sure if he’d like it. He said Larry tried calling but got no answer. Oh well, he’ll try again I’m sure. I talked to Andy too, of course.

I tried to take an NPN envelope, put his name over the address on it and send it to him, but I guess he never got it. I don’t think Bob got Andy’s letter or a few I sent him, and Andy says he’s gotten no letters yet for Sabrina.

Andy didn’t come over while we were away, but the mail was fine and so was Piggy.

I wrote to Tammy, my parents, Fran, Bob, Kim and that guy Brian. In the hotel room, there were 3 pieces of stationary and 3 envelopes, so I sent 1 to Tammy & Bill, mom & dad and Andy. The second day I mailed postcards to Andy, Kim, Bob, Fran, my parents, Tammy & Bill and 1 for the girls.

Mom and dad mentioned sending us a portable dishwasher, but I haven’t heard anything about it yet, so we’ll just have to wait and see. I think she said something about sending jewelry, too.

Oh! I forgot to mention a few other things. I got a tie-dye shirt with fringes on it that says, Excalibur Hotel/Casino/Las Vegas. I also got a really nice barrette with colored glass stones in it and 3 necklaces. One has gold with colored glass stones, another has colored beads on a black string, and the last one has one dice on a black string.

When we got back and went food shopping, I wore the shirt and the dice necklace. I’m sure everyone could tell I’d just been in Vegas.

I realized a very stupid mistake I’ve been making all my life and a million times throughout my journals. That is that I’ve been spelling Los Angeles as Las Angeles, and I of all people should’ve known better. It only makes sense since Angeles ends with a masculine tense, and therefore it has to be Los and not Las.

Later…

I just got off the phone with Andy a little while ago who may have a promising relationship with a guy named Chris.

Anyway, now I can update on all that’s happened since returning from Never Never Land. First of all, it’s the other way around now, Tom’s been pretty horny and I haven’t. I’m sure I’ll pick up my appetite, though, as it comes and goes. I only hope it doesn’t pick up when his is down.

I just took BOL #10 and put in the ticket that they put on my luggage in CT when I came here, my Vegas ticket and both of our boarding passes.

The whole trip went great as far as my asthma. Also, we had no fights. We haven’t had any for a while, which is very nice. The only thing I felt the bulk of the time in Vegas was tired. Very tired. When we got back we crashed within two hours.

From Thursday to today, we swam, barbecued, went food shopping, did computer work and other odds and ends around here. He picked up plastic office folder files to sort out papers which we did. We went through all the mail I got for at-home work and tomorrow I’ll be sending one out.

He got a couple of computer books and a $50 portable CD/cassette player, so we can listen to CDs in other rooms.

We sent away for colored ribbons which will be a lot cheaper. I ordered 50 stamps through the mail.

THURSDAY, JUNE 16, 1994 Hey, I’m in Vegas!!! I am so overwhelmed with this place and all that’s gone on here. Where do I start? I guess I should start at the beginning. The whole thing will take many pages and I may not finish till after I return to Phoenix.

Later…

I stopped writing up above cuz Tom had come into the room and then we went off to do things all day.

In an hour we’re leaving for the airport. I guess now is a good time to start writing all about my fairytale trip. Andy picked us up and brought us to the airport. He gave me 4 quarters to gamble with.

At the airport, I was pretty emotional for two reasons. One’s that it was a wonderful trip down memory lane. The other’s cuz another childhood dream was about to come true. The airport was pretty dead and the flight was, too. I got a window seat and it was great flying. The shortest flight of my life, though, that’s for sure.

When we got to the airport we came to this hotel, The Ex-Caliber, with 4 other people in a limo. You check in on the 1st floor where all the casinos and slot machines are. All the bright lights were like - wow! Finally, everything that was just a fantasy was a reality. All those things I only saw in visions, magazines, and on TV, I was seeing in person. We came right up to the room which was actually kind of ugly, but suitable enough for us. The bathroom’s big. The building and uniforms of the people who work here are ugly. They’re all in a medieval theme.

TUESDAY, JUNE 14, 1994 Well, today's the day! We'll be in Vegas in about 14-15 hours! I will be very very tired, though. I've been up since 11:15 last night. I have lots and lots to write about, but I'll probably save it for the trip. I'm gonna spend most of the day laying down and I'm gonna go do that now.

SUNDAY, JUNE 12, 1994 God answered my prayers (I think) once again. Yesterday I slept from 1 PM - 8 PM. Miraculously, but thankfully I fell asleep at 11:30 last night and slept till 3:15 AM. This gives me the gusto to go out today. We’ll be leaving real soon to go look at rings and do some other shopping. I’ll write about that after we return from wherever.

I saw that 4-hour movie. She looked great. There were only a few scenes where her hair looked pitiful and she wore these geeky hats. For the most part, her hair and face looked really hot. Her hair was a few inches below her shoulders. Her clothes were very conservative, though. Can’t wait to print out pictures from this movie.

Tom and I went swimming. We also called Tammy who congratulated Tom, welcomed him to the family and said she loved him to death, even though she’s never met him.

Right before we go, I’m going to shave and do my nails. My nails need serious filing and polishing. We have ideas about what we’re going to wear. Tom will probably wear his black slacks and we’ll get him a shirt today. I’ll probably wear my all royal blue, tank top/shorts thing that looks like it’s really a skirt cuz it’s fuller from the waist down. The top has spaghetti straps. It’s my favorite that I bought when I was working at Favors.

SATURDAY, JUNE 11, 1994 Only about 14 more hours to go before I see that 4-hour movie. Or tape it, at least. I sure hope her hair’s not as short in this one as it was in Magic Moments.

Got one Bob letter today and that’s about all that’s happening right now. I’m going to go do more typing.

Later…

Tom just got up a little while ago and we just put stuff in the pool to kill algae. The water was turning green.

I also took that plant clipping I cut to root inside. The water won’t evaporate as quickly in here. It’s in the same cup in the living room window.

Tom doesn’t usually work on Saturdays, but he’s going in today for some overtime. He’ll be home at 4:00 or 5:00, rather than close to 7:00.

I’ve got a tape ready to record that movie. I really wish I could get every movie she was ever in and edit with two VCRs like Andy does. Both he and Tom say it’s easy. If I could do it, I edit out everyone else, run her altogether, cuz it’d be a whole lot easier to print pictures out that way. I’m also hoping The Guardian will be on again soon enough, so I can tape it, cuz the tape I bought of it has missing parts that were on TV.

So, how many letters will I get today?

Did I mention I made a 5-page banner for my dad? It says - Happy Father’s Day, With Love, From Jodi Lin. I hope he likes it. I’ll send it out Monday.

Yes, they’ve definitely gone to Idaho next door. It’s been so quiet and so peaceful here. So much more so and I love it. It’s as quiet as it was when I first started hanging out here last July. Mid-May to mid-September oughta be the quietest. I wish the weather was like it is from June-August, all year round. Next winter, though, come to think of it, will be much quieter. I mean, it should be, and I’ll write why it should be after I go grab a smoke.

Later…

Well, I did more than grab a smoke. I tried to call Tammy, but there was no answer. I did talk to Ma, though, and she said to call collect from Vegas when we’re married. She’s also sending me some jewelry and wants a picture of us she can frame.

OK - so why do I feel next winter will be quieter? Cuz the heavy metaller oughta be gone, and if not, he won’t be playing so loud since we had our little talk. Also, next door was the noisiest when they moved in, so since they’re all moved in, they should be quieter. I know, though, that from September-May there’ll be some ball playing and noise out back when they’ve got their door open. It’d still be nice if they decided to up and leave and an elderly couple with no kids, grandkids and very little company moved in. Or a guy like Tom or a woman like me. Anyone who hates kids and company. Dean, next door, is from here. Thank God Lenore’s not from here, cuz then where would she and the kids go?

Lastly, I have the fan as a wonderful weapon against being woken up. Just the mail going in the mail slot alone would wake me up with no fan. I definitely don’t miss sleeping with the radio on. Certain commercials can wake me up. Plus, I used to hate trying to fall asleep to either commercials or songs I didn’t like.

Wow! I’m already halfway through this book and I began it only 12 days ago. Let’s see… what else can I write about? I am in a writing mood, but I’m running out of things to discuss. Well, my period’s over. Lucky me.

I watched Halloween 5 which I taped. It was so-so. I’ve seen so many of those movies now that they’re so predictable and boring. Like eating the same food and wearing the same clothes every day.

I saw on 20/20 a segment on cosmetic tattooing. Now if I had the money, knew I’d like the results, and would have no allergic reactions, I’d love to have that done. It’d be great to have makeup forever that never smudges or fades.

No messages from Andy. Wonder what he’s up to? Did he get Sabrina’s letter yet? I worked on his letter last night, but I won’t do any more of it till we get a color ribbon and I start printing out stuff.

Well, I guess that’s all for now. It’s coffee time now.

Later…

Rather than get any coffee yet, I was playing with the pig. I swing my hand real fast and it gets him to jump, just like it used to do with my cat. Yup, he’s a playful one. When I take him outside and sit him down next to me, he jumps up on my lap.

Another thing I like about these kinds of pens is that I can look and see how much ink there is left.

I’m going to go set the timer on the VCR before I forget.

FRIDAY, JUNE 10, 1994 Not much to update on now.

Got 3 Bob letters today and now I’m going to go continue typing my story.

So far I have about 200 letters in all. 125 from Bob, 4 from Mom, 4 from Lisa, 5 from Alex, 52 from Kim, 7 from Dad, 2 from Fran, 10 from Andy, 10 from Tammy, and 1 each from Nervous, Brenda, Brian, Donald, David and Tara.

THURSDAY, JUNE 9, 1994 Yeah! Been here for two years! Well, almost. It’s still “Free Year’s Eve.” It’s almost 5 AM ET and my flight didn’t leave till 4:30 PM. I arrived here at 10:30 PM which was 7:30 PM ET.

Got a letter yesterday from Alex. How funny, cuz the night before, I was wondering if I’d ever hear from him again.

I’m also happy to say that I scanned the hell out of next week’s TV guide and Sat. Norah will be in another 4-hour movie called Hold the Dream. That movie A Woman of Substance was a 6-hour movie, I noticed.

So now I know of 6 movies she’s in. The Guardian, Hold The Dream, Nates & Hayes, Magic Moments, A Woman of Substance and Local Hero. I’ve only seen all of #’s 1 and 3. Seen 1 hour of #4. Will see all of #2. Hope to hell I eventually see all of #’s 4, 5 and 6. And anything else that may exist with her in it.

Tom asked me to type up my stories so he doesn’t have to keep jumping from journal to journal. How sweet of him. Well, I guess I may as well go start that now. I looked back through my journals and got a pretty good idea of where it starts.

Later…

Tom’s up now working on the computer till it’s time for him to shower and take off for work.

I made two sandwiches for him right before he got up.

Last night I had to wake him up. Supposedly it was only a baby, but it was still a huge spider I spotted on the living room ceiling. They come in at night through the front door. When we bombed we never really took care of the outside. After Tom leaves I’m going to spray the hell out of the front and back doors. I’ll go outside, close the door behind me and spray like hell.

I also have to call for a refill on my inhalers.

I began typing up my story. I’m glad Tom suggested it after all. This allows me to be able to touch up things, change things, add things. It begins in #58 and is also in #’s 60, 61, 62, 64, 66 & 67.

The weather line says today it’ll be 106º, then for Sat. and Sun. it will be 105º.

Since I got no letters yesterday from Bob and Kim, I may very well get mail from them today. From Bob especially.

I wonder if I’ll ever hear from Cassandra?

Andy hasn’t mentioned getting a letter yet from Fran to Sabrina.

Fran tried to call collect 4 times yesterday, I heard on the VM. I’ll never accept a collect call from him. I called him back, and it was his usual paranoia about Sabrina dumping him. The boy is so fucked. Anyway, I know he’s losing his phone real soon, but I’ll never talk again to him by phone unless he calls me. Calls direct. I hope he does lose his phone fast enough. That oughta make him write more. It’ll spin-off his paranoia some more, so he’ll want to write.

I really haven’t been working on Andy’s letter lately. Only once when I first began it. I really wanted to wait till I got that color ribbon and printed out pictures first.

I was out back a little while ago and the pool water feels warmer than the air. I wonder what the deal is with the Jacuzzi thermometer? I can’t even read it. It’s all yellowish.

I am starting to get so tired now, but I have to stay up till at least 8:30 to call in my refills. Actually, I really want to stay up as late as I can. Bye for now.

Later…

Tom’s in the shower now and I am sooo dead tired. Already?! Well, then again, I’ve been up since 3:30 yesterday afternoon and I had only slept 6 hours. Then I got my period.

Yuck! I see cobwebs on my lampshade. I’d better go take care of it before it builds up into a really serious mess that I know I’m not going to want to deal with.

Going to go listen to music after that and I’ll probably write again tomorrow. I’m too beat to do any more right now. Plus, I can’t think of anything else to say right now.

Be back tomorrow!

TUESDAY, JUNE 7, 1994 Gloria’s going on the Arsenio Hall show now, so I’m taping it.

Boy, was I pissed yesterday! I was browsing through the TV guide and noticed I missed another movie with Norah in it. Tom said not to worry though, cuz this movie is on a lot and it should be repeated within a month. Let’s hope so. In the meantime, every new TV guide we get, I’ll thoroughly check.

I can’t fucking wait till we go to Vegas! The tickets came today. Delta Airlines. Same one I flew out here on.

I typed letters to Kim and Bob and soon I’ll do one for Fran. After Sabrina gets her letter.

Still no messages on Prodigy from Tammy or Marla.

Tom barbecued hamburgers and hotdogs for us earlier. They came out yummy.

Did I mention that I edited Norah? Well, I did.

Got my period tonight, two days early, but it’s not really a period yet. Just dark spotting.

Let’s see…what else can I tell you that I’ve forgotten to tell? Nothing I can think of, so I guess I’ll do some editing or typing. Or both.

Oh yeah - Tom got Andy a spare key. So, if he wants to, he can check on Piggy while we’re gone and make sure the mail doesn’t get all jammed up. This time, though, I hope Andy doesn’t leave his key in the Glendale library.

MONDAY, JUNE 6, 1994 Lots of things happened today. Mom and dad called and Larry was there too, so we spoke.

Today’s Ma’s b-day and she says she got my card and not to bother calling tomorrow cuz she’ll be out.

I finally got to meet Tom’s parents today. They were very nice and Marjorie even gave me a beautiful plant that I hung up out back.

Earlier I recorded that 1-hour of the movie Magic Moments and The Guardian onto an audiotape. I edited most of it and it sounds pretty cool.

I’ve got more to write about, but I’m sort of beat. I’ll write tomorrow and expand on more subjects. For now, I’m going to try to go to bed.

SUNDAY, JUNE 5, 1994 Not that much happened yesterday, but both Fran and Andy got letters from Bob. Andy read me the 6-page letter he’s sending Bob. I doubt Fran will write Bob back, but he asked me to ask Bob if he knows a Dennis C who’s supposedly in some jail on a drug charge. Fran also told me that Sabrina’s about to get her 2nd letter.

I swam today. Tom swam a bit too, and brought over a grill from his parent’s house.

Tom and I began to film the signing video and we had some fun, too.

I discovered another movie Norah’s in called Magic Moments. I only could tape an hour of it so I hope it’ll be on again soon. Tomorrow I’ll also tape her in Nates & Hayes, an incredibly stupid movie, but why not? I hope The Guardian comes on again soon so I can tape it to get parts taken out of the unedited one. Her hair was way too short in Magic Moments. Shorter than I’d ever seen it before, just barely touching her shoulders. In The Guardian, it’s just below her shoulders and in Nates & Hayes, it’s almost to the middle of her back. I wonder what other movies are still out there that I don’t know about yet?

Well, anyway, I can’t sleep yet, so I’ll go watch TV.

Oh - almost forgot. Got a letter from Kim and one from Bob. Today I began BOL #10!

FRIDAY, JUNE 3, 1994 I watched a little TV just now and now I think I will do some editing after all. I listened to music and did the dishes, too. It’s nice to know we’ll have a dishwasher in less than a month.

I just had to stick some Ambosol on my back lower wisdom tooth. On the side that was never pulled. It hurt when I went to eat a piece of bread and it’s throbbing. I sure hope I won’t have to deal with that now.

So, is all this exercise paying off? No. I’m up to a 26” waist again and 103-104 pounds. I give up. I really feel my thin days are over. I’m just not meant to be thin anymore and I’m tired of trying to change myself. Tired of trying to be what I’m not and it just isn’t in me to work out for hours and hours every day. I feel that for some reason or another, I’m meant to get fat. Why? I don’t know, but right after I eat, I feel like I’m still hungry and haven’t eaten in years. To hell with trying to stay thin. It’s just too hard and I can’t change what’s fated to be. I expect to be no less than 110 by September 1st. It’s like my weight is just crying and begging to go up, so I’m letting it go now. It’s free to go wherever it wants. At my height 104 looks like 114, but I can’t hang on anymore and keep my weight where it is now. I can’t keep pressuring myself and trying to be what my body just isn’t.

Later…

Tom got home early today. He’s watching basketball now and later we’re going to have some fun.

We think they have gone to Idaho cuz the van hasn’t been there. Only one car. Any kids I’ve heard have been few and far between and they’re definitely not next door. Well, if they truly have gone, good riddance to them for a few months.

Kim called at 3 PM or so, saying she got a letter from Bob with a warning. A warning letter she’s keeping, in case she ever has to show it to the police to show he’s not involved. I guess they’re going to be making some changes there that have the inmates upset. He was afraid there might be a riot. We’ll just have to wait and see and Kim’s going to be seeing him real soon. Tom said that in minimum security prisons, there usually aren’t any riots. Let’s hope he’s right, and he usually is.

I saw a really weird-looking cloud earlier that looked like a mini funnel cloud.

I guess that’s all for now. I’ll be doing my usual stuff tonight. You know, music, TV, and typing.

Later…

Tom’s watching the end of the basketball game.

I forgot to mention calling Becky today who’s 7. Bill answered at first and thought I was Sue, Tammy’s girlfriend. No wonder, he sounded so unusually friendly. I don’t think the guy really ever liked me too much, but it’s pretty mutual.

Sarah, I still can’t understand, but Lisa said she didn’t get some solos she tried out for. That happens. It happened to me too.

I’ve got to get my dad a Father’s Day card, among other things we forgot to get at the grocery store. I always forget something.

THURSDAY, JUNE 2, 1994 Tom will be home soon, so I’ll write for now. Someone tried to call while I was shaving, but I didn’t get to the phone in time. They left no message.

Today I vacuumed, folded Tom’s clothes, washed my clothes, made Tom’s bed, watched TV, listened to music, typed, sang, and went swimming.

Got no mail today. That’s all there is to tell for now, I guess. I think now I’m going to write letters to Bob and Kim. Saturday we’ll be getting a black ribbon.

Later…

Tom brought home a new box of computer paper and a new black ribbon. I went to print out a picture, but it came out way too dark. I’ll just wait till we get a color one.

I’m printing out a letter to Kim now and tomorrow I may do one for Fran. I hope to get mail tomorrow so I can finish BOL #9. After Kim’s letter’s done, I’ll go listen to music.

Tomorrow’s Becky’s birthday so I’ll call there at some point.

Later…

I decided not to listen to music right now. I’m feeling bored and lazy, but not yet ready for bed. Let’s see - what shall I do? There’s always editing, but I don’t feel like doing that now, either. Too lazy to work out, too.

Andy and Sarah left me a message earlier, but I’m sure Andy’s asleep now. If not, he must be close to it.

You can really see some good color coming out on me. None of it’s from lying out, either. Tom was right when he said the best way to do it is slowly, little by little. I have no sun poisoning, either.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 1, 1994 Today was a typical day around here. Tom worked. I swam, listened to music and watched TV. I also finished typing #6 and now I’m doing #8.

I just trimmed my bangs and did a good job. It’s a wee bit too short, but that’s OK cuz my hair grows so fast. Especially my bangs.

No mail today, but hopefully tomorrow so I can close out BOL #9.

I’m about to write letters to Kim and Bob. The ribbon in the printer is screwed up, so Saturday we’ll get a new one. Last night I reprinted my journal chart bigger cuz I wanted to be able to see it from the bed. I filled in the blind spot.

Earlier today, I received a children’s magazine using a fake name. I suspect it was a gift from Andy. The magazine is offering over 150 stickers for free upon subscription, so I decided to fill out the form and selected the “bill me” option. I am hopeful that the stickers will arrive as promised, and I can use them to decorate various items.

I don’t know if I’m forgetting to write something in here, but if I am, I’ll write it in later. Now I want to start a letter before my movie is done taping in half an hour.

[fortuositywritings]

Tattoo Heart

Summary: Tony and you make a dumb drunk decision. He gives you a tattoo.

“Um, what the hell, Tony! You said it wasn’t that bad.”

“It’s not! It’s well-proportioned. Really it’s the best heart I’ve ever drawn. I don’t know why you’re so upset. It could have been worse.”

“The heart isn’t the problem. You tattooed Wanda’s name on it!”

“Yeah, I can see why you’re mad.”

You poked your sore arm. Out of all places, he had to tattoo it on your arm above your elbow where everyone could see. Talk about bad placement.

You pout, “How am I supposed to hide this?”

“Baseball tee’s could make a comeback. You’ll be a trendsetter,” he suggests, not helping at all. 

You glare at him. “You’re paying for it to be removed.”

“I expected no less,” he concedes. You’re still touching the tender spot, frowning. He stops you. “Poking it is not going to make it go away.”

“Fuck! I’m never getting drunk with you again,” you vow. 

“You say that now, but come Friday night, whiteclaw in hand, you’ll have no recollection of this ever happening.”

“Getting a tattoo with your crush’s name on it is kind of hard to forget, Tony,” you spit out. He wears a sheepish smile. Speaking of the party on Friday, “Shit!”

“What?” Tony asks, clearly not processing the situation you’re in as fast as you are.

“Wanda’s gonna be there,” you remember.

“Well, yeah. It’s Pietro’s birthday party and they’re twins so,” he comments sarcastically.

“It’s a pool party. How am I supposed to hide this?”

“Just don’t get in the pool. Or you know what, just don’t go. Say you got sick,” Tony suggests.

“I can’t do that. She expects me to be there and I don’t want to let her down on her birthday,” you explain. Wanda had personally invited you to her party, saying you were going to be her partner for beer pong. 

“Fine. Don’t worry about it too much. We have all week to figure something out,” he reasons. You guess he’s right. No use in stressing too much.

Friday afternoon comes too fast.

You’re stressing as you look at yourself in the mirror. You look ridiculous. 

“You’re literally a genius and this was the best you could come up with?” you complain. You already feel yourself sweating. You hadn’t thought of what to wear. You only had your one piece bathing suit. Tony told you he had something and you trusted him. What he brought you, a long sleeve rashguard to wear over your bathing suit.

“Makeup was just going to wash off. We couldn’t chance it. This way, you can get in the pool,” he says. 

“I look like I’m going surfing, not a pool party,” you huff. 

“You look fine. If anyone asks, you burn easily. Now let’s go. Your girlfriend is waiting on you,” he rushes you along, grabbing your stuff for you. You throw on some shorts and slip on some sandals.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” you mumble, blushing as he pushes you out the door.

“Oh, I know. This wouldn’t be such a big deal if she was.” He closes the door.

Pietro opens the door for you and Tony. You both hug him and congratulate him on another year of being on this earth or as Tony puts it, “Congrats on being one year closer to death!”

Technically, their birthday is tomorrow but they always have a birthday dinner with their parents, so they celebrate with their friends either the day before or after. You and Tony hand Pietro your present for him. 

“Just don’t open it in front of your parents,” you warn. He decides to unwrap it right then. You roll your eyes at his impatience to wait until tomorrow. To his satisfaction it’s running shoes with a bottle of alcohol in each shoe. He laughs, thanking you for his present. He notices you looking around, searching for a certain somebody. He already knows who you’re looking for. 

“She’s in the kitchen,” he tells you, a smirk appearing on his face when you blush at being so obvious. You thank him and go find Wanda.

As Pietro said, she is in the kitchen fixing some appetizers to bring outside. What you weren’t prepared for was her already in her bikini, like she’s ready to jump into the pool. Her two piece bathing suit doesn’t leave much to the imagination but you’re quite the daydreamer it seems. You’re snapped out of your trance by Wanda clearing her throat.

She wears a smirk much like her brother’s and you splutter an embarrassed, “H-hi! Happy Birthday. You, uh, you look good. Great! You look ready for the pool.”

She smiles, amused by your awkwardness. “Thank you. You look ready for the beach.”

You blush. “Yeah, I burn easily,” you lie and quickly move on, handing her the present you got her. “Here.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she says, but you shake your head. “Of course I did. It’s your birthday tomorrow. You can open it now if you want. Your brother did.”

“Unlike my brother, I can wait. Let me go put it in my room. I’ll be right back. Wait here,” she requests. You nod and she leaves with her present. You respectfully turn your gaze to the appetizers, not wanting to ogle her backside. 

“Cowabunga, dude! What the hell are you wearing?”

“No way. I almost wore the same thing. Good thing I didn’t or that would be embarrassing.”

You roll your eyes, turning around to see Sam and Rhodey, both clearly amused by their own jokes. You give them an unimpressed look and they laugh harder. 

“Haha. So very funny,” you deadpan.

“Seriously, Y/N, why are you wearing that? It’s like a thousand degrees,” Rhodey asks. 

“Maybe I’m insecure and you guys laughing just makes me feel worse? Maybe thought of that?” you retort, but neither buy it. They look at each other and start laughing. 

“Insecure, my ass. You almost give Tony Stark a run for his money in the size of ego,” Sam says between laughs. You just roll your eyes.

Wanda returns to find the guys pressing you about the long sleeves. 

“Hey, Wanda. I think you might have given Johnny Kapahala the wrong address. She’s gonna be late for the competition,” Sam jokes and you hate that you get the joke. Wanda doesn’t and looks adorably confused. All she knows is they’re referring to you so she looks at you for an explanation but you ignore her in order to throw your own remark.

“At least Johnny wasn’t afraid to swim at the beach,” you bite, making Rhodey and Wanda laugh and Sam take offense.

“There are sharks!” Sam defends himself, making you all laugh. 

The three of you help Wanda bring out the appetizers to the backyard. They’ve got a table and a bunch of chairs laid around. Wanda asks if you’d like a drink and goes to fetch one for the two of you while you greet other friends. 

“You didn’t want one?” You ask her when she returns with only one drink. “If we’re going to be beer pong partners, you can’t leave me drinking alone.”

She giggles and takes a swig from your drink. “Happy?” She asks when she returns the drink to you and smirks upon seeing the slight blush on your cheeks. 

You get a few more remarks about the rashguard but with a few drinks in everyone’s system, the pool is more enticing than poking fun at you. You didn’t plan to get in the pool but with a simple “come on” from Wanda, you’re cannonball jumping into the deep end. 

Once it’s dark, you all begin to vacate the pool in order to play games. You and Wanda play two games of beer pong seeing as neither of you are very good and you think you’ll surely be sick if you play another round. 

You eat, you dance, you sit around and talk to your friends, and Wanda is with you the whole time. It’s midnight and you’re right beside her as everyone sings for her and Pietro. She hands you the first slice of cake, which you eat standing up just to stay next to her as she cuts a piece for everyone. 

It’s nearing 2am as people begin to leave. Wanda and Pietro make sure everyone is getting home safely, either taking a LIFT or having a designated driver. You and Tony stay later to help the twins clean up, which they greatly appreciate.

Almost an hour later, the house looks as if there hadn’t been a party. You and Tony wish them happy birthday once more before he pulls out his phone to call an Uber. The twins insist you two stay, that it is way too late and they’d feel better if you do.

Tony wiggles his eyebrows discreetly at you when Wanda invites you to sleep in her room. You spare him a warning glance before following Wanda to her room. She offers you some pajamas and hands you a long sleeved tshirt like you ask. You excuse her questioning glance saying you get cold at night. 

You change in the bathroom. When you return, you find Wanda also in her pajamas sitting on her bed with the present you gave her earlier in her hand. 

“You want to open that now?” You ask, amused at her eagerness to open it.

“I mean it is my birthday now,” she reasons. You nod, closing the door and going to sit next to her. “Or is this one of those ‘open when you’re alone’ presents?”

You quirk an eyebrow. “What kind of presents are those?”

“One of those romantic ones like in the movies that show that you’ve always loved me or something,” she replies. Your palms feel sweaty all of a sudden with the way she stares at you. She reads the nervousness on your face and takes pity, continuing, “Or a vibrator.”

You burst in giggles. “Damn it. How’d you know?” you joke. 

It’s not a vibrator, obviously. You got her two necklaces, one gold with her name and the other sterling silver with her initials.

“I was going to just get you the gold one but then I thought maybe you wanted one to match all those rings you wear so, that’s why there are two,” you explain.

She puts the box aside and throws her arms around you, pulling you flush into her. “Thank you. I love them.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause I could totally return those and get you a vibrator if that's what you want,” you laugh. She pulls back immediately, a frown on her face. 

“No, they already have my name,” she protests, pulling a chuckle from you. She hands you the golden one that says ‘Wanda’ and asks, “Will you put this one on me?”

At your nod, she twists around, turning her back to you and sweeping her hair up. You struggle with the clasp a little due to your nervousness, but you get it. Had you paid closer attention, you would have noticed how Wanda shivered at your touch. 

She turns back around and you admire her with your gift around her neck. “It looks great on you.” 

She leans toward you again and you assume it’s to give you another hug, which you wouldn’t mind one bit, but she doesn’t move her head to the side the way one does to hug someone. Her nose bumps into yours and you realize she’s going to kiss you. 

For some damn reason you pull away before her lips reach yours. She looks embarrassed and begins to apologize, “Sorry, I misread that. I thought with the present and the way you’ve been looking at me all day, shit.”

“No, you didn’t misread anything,” you reassure her. She relaxes. “Can we try that again? I was just nervous, but I’m ready now.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Wait.” You get up and make a show of shaking off the nerves and pumping yourself up before you sit back down. “Okay, now I’m ready.”

She giggles, grabbing your face and pulling you into her, kissing the life out of you. She moves to lie back on the bed and you follow her lead. You’re kissing and it’s getting hot and she tugs on your shirt. You remove it without a second thought. You begin kissing down her neck pulling sweet noises when you leave a love bite. She gasps and grips your arm, right above your elbow. 

You flinch in pain. The sudden intake of breath tips her off and she pulls her hand away. She asks worriedly, “Are you okay?”

You remember the tattoo and the fact that it’s not so hidden right now. You start to panic. “Yep, why? Are you okay?”

She narrows her eyes in suspicion, but you kiss her with the intention to make her forget. A minute later, she does it again, grabbing right on that spot. You try not to, but she hears the small groan and she pulls away. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong,” you lie. 

“Then why do you flinch every time I grab your arm?” She moves to grab your arm again to prove a point but you move it away.

“Nothing’s wrong with my arm,” you deny. She sits up and reaches for your arm. Once more you pull out of reach. 

“Y/N, let me see your arm,” she demands. 

“Okay.” You try to save yourself from some of the embarrassment by explaining, “But before you look, just know I did it on a drunken dare and I didn’t know until the day after what Tony actually wrote.”

That piques her curiosity and she shuffled around you to take a look at your arm. You can’t watch, so you hide your face behind the palm of your other hand. You expect her to either laugh at you or get upset, but moments pass and you don’t hear anything. 

You get the nerve to look over your shoulder at Wanda. She looks indecisive about what she wants to say, but she doesn’t look mad. Finally, she says, “I guess I don’t have to ask if you like me or not.”

You groan in embarrassment, hiding your face again. She laughs and pulls you into her as she lies back down. “Don’t laugh. It’s embarrassing enough getting your crush’s name tattooed on you. I don’t need her to actually make fun of me.”

“Aww, you have a crush on me?” she coos. 

You pull away, giving her a deadpan look. “No, I get girls’ names tattooed on me all the time.”

“Having your crush’s name tattooed is embarrassing,” she agrees.

You narrow your eyes, thinking she's just making fun of you now and that was the last thing you need but she continues, “So how about we say it’s your girlfriend’s name?”

Your eyes widen. Wanda bites her lip nervously, waiting for your answer, and that’s how you know she’s serious. You blush, “That would be less embarrassing.”

“I think so too. So what do you say?” She asks, wanting a clear answer.

“I would love to be your girlfriend,” you answer.

She smiles and kisses you. You can’t help the giddy laughter that comes after. 

“You know, he didn't do too bad. It’s pretty well-proportioned.”

[wheeler-beretta-harwood]

Meant To Be (Cash Wheeler x Reader)

Chapter Twelve

"Come on, I know you loved it. Just admit it, you had fun!" Cash was grinning from ear to ear as he threw his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side.

"I had fun because you had fun, that's all." You answered, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Doesn't matter, you still had fun!"

He was right, though. You had way more fun than you had expected. For two weeks straight, you told him he should go with someone else. You'd just ruin all his fun. However, he never dropped the topic and said it was his birthday gift, and he wanted you to go to the concert with him - no one else. Even though you hated Country music. You knew you had lost the battle when he started using more than just his words in order to persuade you. No, he eventually started to use his charm. So one morning, after one especially pleasant night, right before you had to go to the arena to get the final preparations done for that day's round of interviews, he laid in the hotel bed, eyes only half lid, morning voice still groggy. "Darlin, I know I am annoying you, but this will be the last time, I promise. Please, please come see Orville Peck with me." You wanted to decline again, but when you turned around to look at him, lying in bed, half naked, with that look on his face, you knew you lost. There he was, your very manly man, with puppy dog eyes and the sweetest pout you had ever seen. He looked so adorable, like a five year old begging for candy. You couldn't possibly say no to that.

You moved over to him while putting in your earrings and leaned down. "Alright, baby, I'll go with you. But don't get bitter if I ruin your evening. You have been warned." Then you bopped him on the nose and placed a tender kiss on his lips. "I'll see you later, baby."

He let out a little sigh and smiled up at you before mumbling goodbye and turning to lay on his side. When you left, you turned around once more and just looked at him clinging onto the blanket, softly nuzzling into it.

He was gonna be the death of you, but what better way to go, really.

This was how you ended up attending your first - and hopefully last - Country concert of your life. And yes, you had fun, because you enjoyed seeing Cash happy. He sang along to all the songs, and held you close everytime a slow love song started. The way he looked at you sent shivers down your back: that goddamn smile that took your breath away a few months ago, in the cafeteria, still held the same spell on you. It was all you ever needed.

When the two of you walked over to his car, he still hummed his favorite song, only stopping to face you and kiss you once more. "Thank you, Darlin. Tonight was wonderful. And hey, look, I even got us matching shirts from the merch stand so we can always remember this glorious night!" He laughed at his own comment, and it was music to your ears. You moved closer and closer to him, until he was trapped between his car and your body. Your first impulse was to leave a smart remark about the shirts, but when you saw his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink, you knew you didn't want to ruin this moment. So instead, you placed both your hands on his shoulders and kissed him. Gentle at first, but soon it turned into a full make out session. You felt like two teenagers, trying to use their time right before they had to go back to their parents' houses. When you broke away from him due to lack of oxygen, you admired his features: lips slightly swollen, cheeks now a bright pink, a serene smile. That's when you knew this was it - the right moment. Your hands moved up to his neck, thumbs rubbing soothing circles right underneath his ears.

"I love you, Cash." The words fell from your lips as if you had said them a thousand times before. And you had, in your head at least.

He looked at you, breathing heavily, because of the kissing before or your confession right now, you couldn't tell. You also couldn't tell what he was thinking. He opened his mouth, only to close it a second later. When he finally regained his composure, he started, weakly.

"Y/N...I..." his voice trailed off again, unable to form a proper sentence. He didn't know what he wanted to say, so he closed his mouth again and swallowed heavily. Nothing else left his lips after that.

"It's okay, baby. You don't have to say it back. I just- wanted to let you know. How I feel. About you." You told him as your thumb traced his lower lip before you reassuringly pecked his lips.

"Come on, let's go back to the hotel." You cheerily said before slapping his ass to get him moving. But as soon as you sat in the passenger seat, your smile faded and you felt...sad? No, you weren't sad, you told your boyfriend that you loved him for the first time, there was no reason to be sad. You were scared. Maybe you were too pushy. Maybe it had been too soon.

But you said what you said, and you meant it. You wouldn't take it back. Ever.

While Cash was walking around the car to the driver's side, he grew angry with himself. What the fuck was that?! He had been waiting for this for months now, and when it happened, he just froze and stood there like an idiot. Why couldn't he just say it back? He wouldn't have lied. But he was afraid...afraid of what might happen once he admitted his feelings to you. Maybe history would repeat itself. It always does. Right?

He sighed before opening the door to sit next to you. As he buckled up, he felt like he could cut the tension with his bare hands. He needed to say something.

"Darlin, listen, I..." Again, all words left his brain. Damnit.

"It's okay. Don't worry about it. I'm fine. We're fine." You said and put your hand on his thigh. And you actually surprised yourself, you sounded very confident while saying it. He shot you a weak smile before starting the engine and driving back to the hotel. Maybe you were fine after all.

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

"....hello?" Dax looked puzzled at his tag partner, who didn't give a damn about what he had just told him. "Cash, hey!" He now yelled loudly, finally getting the other's attention.

"WHAT!?!"

"First of all, cut the damn attitude, bruh. And what the hell is up with you? What happened? Was the concert that bad?"

Cash knew he couldn't lie to Dax. Well, he could, but the other would know right away.

"The concert was fantastic. Y/N was fantastic. Everything was fucking fantastic, Dax." He retorted, hearing the anger trembling in his own voice.

"Then what the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"She...I...I fucked up, man."

The bald man didn't react, but waited for Cash to further elaborate.

"When we left, she told me she loved me."

A cheeky smile spread across Dax's face, dimples more prominent than usual as he padded the other man's shoulder.

"So? That is good news! Why are you so pissed off?"

Cash smiled a little at his friend's comment. He was right, this was good news.

"I didn't say it back to her." He felt like a complete douche when he said it out loud, and rightfully so, he thought.

Dax looked irritated for a few moments. "Why not?"

Cash just shrugged his shoulders.

"So she caught you off guard. You were a little dumbfounded by her confession. That's okay. Just tell her now. She's in the foyer, I saw her like five minutes ago, talking to Eddie Kingston."

"That's the problem, Dax. I just can't. I know it's dumb, but I...what if everything goes to shit again? Like last time?"

So that was his problem, Dax thought. He moved over to sit next to Cash, and put his arm around his shoulders.

"Cash, you are my best friend and my brother. And I'd never lie to you. Y/N is nothing like Lindsay. She would never do to you what she did. She'd never cheat on you. She'd never try to manipulate you. She. is. not. like. Lindsay." He then sighed heavily, knowing what he needed answered.

"Did you talk to her again? Lindsay, I mean. She called you that one evening, right? When we all had dinner? You know, Y/N has been asking me about her. Said you guys bumped into her at the mall. Must've been real awkward for her."

Cash's eyes grew big when he heard you asking about Lindsay. He hoped you'd forgotten about her by now. "She did? What did you tell her?!" Panic made his voice crack a little.

"I told her nothing, Cash. Because YOU are the one that needs to tell her. And don't act surprised if she gets suspicious. Y/N's in a fucked up situation right now, you act weird, and she doesn't even have a clue why. So tell her."

"Maybe you're right."

"Cut the maybe. I am definitely right."

With that, Cash had finally found the courage to go look for you. If he was being honest with himself, he had been trying to avoid you after last night. There wasn't really a reason to, though. Everything was normal when you arrived at the hotel: You both showered together, talked for a bit while cuddling before you two went to bed, him being the big spoon as usual. Nothing odd. But that was exactly what made him nervous. It was almost too normal.

When he found you in the foyer, you were standing at one of the bar tables to the side, frantically typing on your iPad. And you looked stressed out.

"Hey Darlin. How are ya?" He said as he stood next to you, placing his hand on your back, soothingly rubbing it.

"I'm fucking miserable, baby. I messed up and overbooked Maxwell's interview time. So now I have to find a way to make it work out. I really don't want to ask him to stay an hour longer for interviews because of idiot me."

Cash frowned a little, he hated how you belittled yourself. "It's your second week at your new job, go easy on yourself." He answered and moved to stand behind you so he could massage your shoulders. God, you were so tense, you felt like one solid rock.

"Exactly, Cash. I'm new to all of this. That's why I need to be extra good. Otherwise they'll cut my job. I can't afford that." Your reply was followed by a soft moan as he hit just the right spot on your shoulder blades. You closed your eyes so you could enjoy the moment before you panicked again. "I need to make some phone calls, maybe I know how to get it done..."

He knew it wasn't the right time to talk about Lindsay. It had to wait. But maybe he could fix his other issue.

"Well, I'll leave you to it then. I'm sure you're doing a fantastic job, Y/N." You turned around and smiled up at him. "Thank you. I appreciate it...Uhm, was there a reason you came up to me or? I kind of took you by surprise with my problem, I guess."

This was it, the moment he'd tell you he felt the same for you....

"Uuuhh, nope. Just wanted to see your gorgeous face." He lied as he quickly pressed his lips on yours. "I'll see you later, then."

"Yeah, bye." You smiled again and rubbed his arm before he left, then went to do the phone calls you talked about.

Cash sighed heavily as he walked back, realizing that Dax would ask him how things went. And he just didn't want to tell him really.

Chapter Thirteen

[starlingflight]

James Sirius’ First Display of Magic

It was a small gathering by Weasley standards. Arthur had been simply delighted by the Muggle barbecue gifted to him by Harry and Ginny as a late birthday present and had immediately sought to try it out. 

Molly, possessing years of experience with Arthur's experiments had insisted on forgoing the invitations to the rest of the family until she could be certain he knew how to work the contraption now taking pride of place in The Burrow's back garden. 

Harry had offered to take the kids home for dinner, but Arthur had been adamant that he, Ginny and the kids stay and appreciate the gift they had given him. 

"I think dinner's going to be a while," Harry muttered to Al as he settled beside him on the picnic blanket Ginny had laid on the ground only a few minutes ago. 

The news didn't seem to concern Al who was much too busy picking up sticks and twigs from the grass beside them and comparing them before throwing away the ones which, Harry assumed, had been deemed unworthy.

A bottle of butterbeer floated across the garden, coming to a stop in front of Harry's face. "Thanks, Molly," he called, plucking the bottle from the air and tilting it in the direction of his mother-in-law who was standing by the back door, holding a cauldron cake just out of James' reach. 

Harry took a long pull from the bottle, closing his eyes for a second and appreciating the crisp spring breeze upon his face and the aroma of newly-bloomed snapdragons drifting to him from the flowerbeds. 

His peaceful reprieve did not last long. The sound of Ginny's exasperated voice drifted to him much as his butterbeer had done. 

"Dad, it'll be so much quicker to use your wand." 

 "It's a Muggle barbecue!" Arthur cried. "We must use matches, Ginny!" 

 Harry grinned to himself, able to imagine, without opening his eyes, the frustrated expression currently adorning Ginny's face. 

 "Wand," said a much closer voice and Harry felt something sharp poke him in the ribs. Albus grinned up at him, waving his latest stick wildly through the air. "Wand," he said once more. 

 "You've got a wand, have you?" Harry asked, smiling proudly at him.

 Al nodded as he continued to wave the stick with abandon. His eyes focussed on the tip of the ‘wand’; his round cheeks turned red from the effort of concentrating.

 Harry continued to watch Al, listening to Ginny and Arthur’s increasingly frustrated conversation until, finally, there was a whoop of joy and he turned to see the two of them hugging. Flames danced upon the coals and the smell of smoke began to drift across the garden.

 It was at that moment that Al, seemingly bored of his stick, threw it carelessly to the side and took off, running as fast his pudgy legs could carry him towards the opposite side of the garden where a particularly grumpy looking group of gnomes had just popped up from a hole in the dirt.

 “They bite, Al!” Harry shouted, hauling himself up from the picnic blanket in order to chase after his son.

 Al shrieked loudly as he ran, obviously too overcome with excitement to listen to his father’s warning. Fortunately, the noise alerted Ginny to his presence. With a speed that had been honed over her years as a professional Quidditch player, she turned and grabbed Al before he could reach the waiting pack of gnomes.

His capture did not seem to bother Albus, who squealed loudly as Ginny proceeded to throw him into the air before catching him securely against her chest.

“Where are you off to?” She asked Al as Harry reached her side. “Was Daddy not paying you enough attention?”

 “Daddy was giving him plenty of attention,” Harry said, reaching over and taking Al from her. “I’m just not as interesting as garden gnomes, apparently.”

 “I’ve been telling you that for years,” Ginny said, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Would one of Nanna’s cauldron cakes hold your attention?” Harry asked, ignoring Ginny as he turned his attention to his son who was wriggling in his arms, desperate to get away.

 “You’re going to spoil his dinner,” Ginny warned.

 Harry looked up from Al and smirked at her. “Who’s the boring one now?”

 Ginny rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him. “Naughty!” Al declared, pointing a stern finger in Ginny’s direction.

 “Yes,” Harry agreed, already turning away from Ginny and carrying Al towards the table set up near the back door where Molly and James still stood. “Your mummy is very naughty.”

 James was still jumping, though it seemed he had worn Molly down some time ago, judging by the traces of chocolate smeared across his face.

 Harry settled Al into the highchair beside the table, securing him with his wand before reaching over and placing one of the freshly baked cauldron cakes arranged in the centre of the table on the tray before Al.

 It was impressive how quickly Al managed to make a mess. Harry watched as he succeeded in smashing the majority of the cake between his hand and the tray. “See, you won’t ruin your dinner like that,” he muttered.

 His attention wandered from the destruction Al was wreaking upon Molly’s baked goods, to James, who was still hopping like a kangaroo in front of Molly.

 “I can jump higher than Louis!” James declared.

 “Well, Louis is a few months younger than you,” Molly replied fairly, her hands on her hips and a look of amusement on her face.

“I can jump higher than you!” James said, as though he had not heard Molly at all.  

 “Of course you can!” Molly said through a chuckle. “Nanna’s can’t jump!”

 James paused for a moment, as though considering his grandmother’s words. A hand reached up absently to brush through his unruly auburn hair. He turned, fixing Harry with a questioning stare. “Nanna’s can’t jump?”

 “No,” Harry said seriously. “Everyone knows that.”

 The doubt disappeared from James’ face immediately, apparently trusting that if his father said that Nanna’s couldn’t jump it must be true.

 “I’ll show you,” he said decidedly, turning back to Molly and taking her hand.

 “It’s no use, James!” Molly protested. “I simply can’t jump!”

 “It’s easy, Nanna” James said dismissively. He tugged on Molly’s hand until she bent her knees. “Now, jump!” James instructed, launching himself into the air.

 Molly stood up straight once more with an expression of faux concentration. Her feet did not leave the ground. “I told you, Nanna’s can’t jump!”

 “Nanna,” James said, his expression more serious than Harry had ever seen it. “That’s silly.”

 Harry caught Ginny’s eye from across the garden; they grinned at one another before Ginny’s hand moved to her mouth to conceal her laughter.

 “Try again!” James said, pulling on Molly’s hand once more.

 This continued for some time. James, apparently unwilling to accept that his grandmother would never be able to do something as wondrous as jumping, became increasingly erratic in his movements until Harry had to move Al’s highchair further away, lest he fall victim to one of his brother’s flailing legs.

 “Give it up, James,” Harry said eventually. Just watching his son bounce up and down endlessly was beginning to make him feel exhausted. “Nanna’s can’t jump, there’s nothing to be done about it.”

 “One last try,” James said solemnly, widening his eyes and schooling his features into an expression that neither Harry nor Molly had ever been particularly good at saying no to.

 “One last try,” Harry agreed through a sigh.

 James crouched low, his bottom only inches from the ground as he gestured for Molly to follow his example. Molly bent her knees in a rather more dignified manner.

 “One…Two…Three!”

 This time, Molly jumped, her feet leaving the ground by mere inches. James, however, did not have the opportunity to savour his victory. His own jump had been more powerful than anyone would have rightly expected. Harry watched, his heart crawling into his mouth as James soared higher and higher, until he came to land upon the roof of The Burrow.

 “Merlin!” Molly exclaimed, her hands flying to her face. “He hasn’t done magic before has he?”

“James!” Harry yelled, jumping from his seat at the table; barely hearing Molly’s question. “Don’t move! Stay right where you are!”

 James’ laughter was audible even from a distance, his wide smile of delight was easy to see.

 Harry was a fully trained Auror, he had extensive experience in dealing with high pressure situations, but seeing his son balanced so precariously on the roof had made him blind with panic.

 “I’ve got him!” Harry heard Ginny call, though he was unable to tear his eyes away from James to look at her.

 He withdrew his wand from his pocket, willing his hand not to shake as he held it poised, ready to cast a cushioning charm should James slip and fall.

 A moment later, Ginny appeared, hovering in front of James on one of the old broomsticks from the shed. Harry watched intensely as she gripped the broom between her thighs and scooped James off the roof, seating him firmly in front of her.

Ginny landed smoothly on the grass in front of him. Al applauded his mother’s daring rescue attempt enthusiastically and Harry felt his heart begin to retreat back into his chest as James' feet touched the ground once more.

 “Did you see that?” he asked, looking excitedly between Molly and Harry.

 “I did,” Harry said faintly, lowering himself back into his seat before his legs gave out beneath him.

 “Now you know,” Molly said, giving Harry a satisfied look as she patted James lovingly on the head. “What you lot did to me when you were younger.”

 “Burgers are ready!” Arthur called triumphantly, seemingly having missed the commotion owing to the excitement of his new barbecue.

 “Sorry doesn’t quite cut it, does it?” Harry said.  

[snelbz]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 19}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Occasional surprise chapters could be posted at miscellaneous times. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

A/N: Well, we promised a chapter today, so we decided to follow through on that. Even if we did post a surprise chapter last night. Oh, well. Enjoy! 🙃✨

Cassian sighed as he opened his eyes.

Another year older, another year wiser.

Well.

Another year older, anyway.

He blinked as he looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand. 7:58. Two minutes before his alarm would have gone off.

He hated when that happened, when his mind woke him up just before his alarm went off. There was no time to go back to sleep, it was perfect sleeping time wasted.

It was bullshit.

With a yawn, Cassian swung his legs over the side of his bed and got up. He stumbled to his dresser and pulled on a pair of sweatpants, just in time for his alarm to go off.

“Fuck you,” he muttered, quickly turning it off before flinging open his bedroom door.

It smelled delicious.

He meandered down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Nesta was icing a giant cake.

Her eyes darted to his.

He blinked.

“Get out!” she ordered.

“What the hell are you-.”

“Out!” she ordered, yet again.

Nyx babbled something at the top of his lungs that closely resembled, YEAH!

He did as he was told, blearily blinking as he stumbled back into the living room. He dragged a hand down his face. “Can I at least have some coffee?”

“In a minute!” She called and he heard quick footsteps, followed by the back door opening and closing. It opened again and she said, breathlessly, “Okay. You can come in now.”

Tentatively, Cassian rounded the corner and he found Nesta placing a platter of cinnamon rolls on the counter in place of the—

“Where did the cake go?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Nesta was lifting a cinnamon roll onto each of the plates in front of her, cutting the one for Nyx into tiny bites for him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He blinked again, half-wondering if he’d imagined the decorated monstrosity he’d seen on the counter, but he sniffed, smelling the air again.

It mostly smelled like the sweet and spicy scent of cinnamon, but—

No, that was definitely cake he smelled.

“Right…” he said, pulling forks out of the silverware drawer and setting one next to each plate. “You’re up early.”

“Had a lot to do before renovations start this morning. I’m meeting Helion and the contractor at the restaurant at nine.” She sipped her own coffee, not looking at him. Mixing truth and lies, it seemed, since he knew she was meeting the contractor this morning. As for a lot to do, he knew everything at the restaurant was already taken care of. She cleared her throat. “I wasn’t expecting you to be up so early either.”

Cutting into the gooey cinnamon roll, he said, “I gotta be at the bar in an hour. I’m talking with Kallias this morning before my shift starts.”

She set her coffee down and finally looked at him. “You have to work today?”

“Yeah,” he replied, popping the bite of pastry into his mouth. He resisted the urge to moan. “It’s Tuesday. I always work on Tuesdays.”

She hesitated, deciding whether she should speak or not. “But it’s your birthday.”

He couldn’t stop his smirk. He knew there had been a cake.

“And who told you that?” He asked, leaning over to wipe Nyx’s face off. The poor kid had icing all over his face, all the way up into his hair.

“That’s not important,” she said.

“Elain, then,” Cassian went on with a grin.

Nesta pretended like she hadn’t heard him and took a giant bite of her cinnamon roll.

“I’ll take Nyx with me to the bar,” Cassian said. “Viviane texted. She has the stomach flu.”

Nesta cringed. “That sucks. I...wait - you’re taking a baby to a bar?”

Cassian shrugged. “He’ll be fine. I only have to stay until two or so.”

“A baby,” she repeated, blinking. “To a bar.”

“You prefer to take him into a construction zone?” Cassian asked. “One that you’re in charge of? That sounds stressful.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “I can ask Elain to watch-.”

“I’m taking him with me and he’ll be fine,” Cassian said, shaking his head. “I promise.”

Nesta narrowed her eyes. And he held up both hands. “I promise,” he repeated.

“Fine. But call me if you need to and I’ll come get him,” she sighed, shaking her head. “I’ll be in my office most of the day, so it’s not like he’ll be running around in a construction zone.”

“And I’ll take the carrier and physically wear him all day, so it’s not like he’ll be running around the actual bar.”

Nesta groaned. “Fine. Fine. But take the pack-n-play, his monitor and toys. He can entertain himself well enough.”

“Okay,” Cassian nodded, finishing off his cinnamon roll. He pulled Nyx out of his high chair, who was now playing with and wearing most of his food, rather than eating it, and said, “I’ll give him a bath while you get ready.”

“Okay.” He was nearly in the living room when he heard, “Cass?” He turned and looked back at her, still not completely used to the familiar nickname from her. She was blushing slightly. “Happy birthday.”

Smiling, he said, “Thanks,” and turned to head up the stairs.

Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all.

*

“Any birthday plans?”

“You’re looking at it.”

Kallias chuckled as he observed Cassian, a wiggly baby strapped to his chest, counting the liquor bottles that lined the wall.

“How old are you anyway?” he continued, wiping down the bartop. “Thirty? Thirty-one?”

“You wound me,” Cassian muttered, scribbling a number down on his clipboard, not bothering to tell Kallias just how close to thirty he was getting to.

“I would say we should do shots to celebrate your big day,” Kallias began, taking Nyx’s outstretched hand. “But, I think your little housewife would disapprove.”

Cassian snorted. “If Nesta Archeron ever heard you call her such a thing, you’d lose a very important body part.”

“Not interested in that, thank you very much,” he muttered. “She ever gonna stop in, so I can see this terrifying woman you’ve told me about?”

“About that…” Cassian pulled Nyx out of the carrier and carried him into the back office, setting him down in the play pen. Grabbing the baby monitor, he made his way back into the front room.

Kallias looked up from where he was cutting limes at the bar. “About what?”

He leaned a hip on the bar and crossed his arms over his chest. “Nesta is going to be expanding the restaurant, adding a bar. That’s actually where she is right now, why I’ve got the kiddo with me. Didn’t really want him in a construction site.”

“Hot nanny couldn’t keep him?” Kallias asked, grinning.

Cassian rolled his eyes. “No, she’s sick. But, uh-.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m gonna be leaving and going over there, managing for her.”

Kallias eyes widened. “Oh. Shit.”

“Yeah. And I’d like you to come over there with me. Be my assistant manager at the new place.”

Kallias stopped cutting, mid-lime. “You do realize we are two out of five people that work here, right?”

Cassian nodded, slowly. “Yeah, I do. And I also know we can hire more people here.”

Kallias looked back down at his half-cut lime. “Assistant manager, huh?”

“It’s in a great part of town, we’d get amazing tips on top of already being paid more,” Cassian said. “It’s an amazing opportunity.”

“So I’d be stupid to say no, then?” Kallias asked, continuing to cut his limes.

“Incredibly stupid,” Cassian agreed.

Nyx’s happy babbling came through on the baby monitor.

“I’ll think about it,” Kallias said, at last.

“Think about it, then tell me yes, because I’m not going there without you,” Cassian said.

Kallias snorted. “You’re a shitty liar. You’re going, whether I go or not.”

“And why wouldn’t you come with me?” Cassian asked, facing his friend. He and Kallias had worked together for years, since Kallias came in at twenty-one, during his senior year of college. “You want to be stuck in this dive bar forever? I know you. You’re a creature of habit. If I leave you here, you’ll be here for the next twenty years.”

Kallias didn’t bother telling him it wasn’t true. He just shook his head. “I guess we better start interviewing people, then.”

*

The day did not go as planned. Cassian had to stay and help out until nearly five-thirty, and by the time Cassian walked in the front door, Nyx was knocked out cold in his car seat. He gently set it down and unbuckled him, carrying him into the kitchen. It smelled divine, like roasting herbs and cooked veggies, even if he couldn’t see anything radiating the delicious smells.

Nesta was also nowhere in sight, so he took Nyx up to his nursery and laid him down, setting the baby monitor back up where it usually sat. He slipped the screen in his back pocket and made his way back downstairs, hurrying out to his truck to get Nyx’s diaper bag and the folded up playpen.

As he was setting it back up in the living room, he heard the sliding glass door open and close and made sure he was making enough noise to alert Nesta of his presence.

“You’re home,” she said, leaning on the doorway. “Nyx asleep?”

“Out like a light,” he said, tossing the few toys he’d brought with him back into the pen. “He had fun though.”

“Good. Dinner is almost done,” she smiled. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Starving,” he sighed and took another deep breath in. “It smells amazing.”

Turning, Nesta walked back into the kitchen. “Steak, garlic mashed potatoes, roasted carrots and green beans, and homemade rolls.”

He watched as she took the carrots and green beans out of the oven and placed them next to a plate of steak she must have just brought in from the grill.

Cassian’s mouth was damn near watering.

He looked at the spread as she spooned the mashed potatoes onto his plate. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Nesta tensed, then something like nervous laughter sputtered out of her mouth. “Well, I had to cook red meat for you on your birthday.”

“Does that mean you’ll be having yourself a steak, Archeron?” he asked, taking the full plate from her outstretched hands.

She gave him an amused look. “Hell no. You get both. I have a chicken kabob on the grill.”

Cassian licked his lips as he took his plate to the table. “Consider me a lucky man. Thank you.”

“Of course,” she said, clearing her throat. She piled her plate high with potatoes and veggies before going onto the deck and coming back with a grilled chicken kabob on her plate. She sat across from him. Cassian’s mouth was already full.

“How is it?” Nesta asked, cutting up a carrot before popping it into her mouth.

“Delicious,” Cassian said, mouth full. “So good.”

“If you don’t slow down, you won’t be able to enjoy the flavor,” Nesta said, knowing full well that he wouldn’t listen. Cassian practically inhaled everything on his plate within minutes.

He moaned, stretching back in his chair before running a hand through his hair. “I must say, Nes, you really outdid yourself.”

“Well, it was the least I could do after you worked and were on baby duty all day,” she said, popping a few green beans in her mouth.

They talked about their days as she finished eating. He told her about Kallias’ agreement to move to the restaurant, she told him about the beginning of construction.

They’d kept half the restaurant open, putting up a temporary wall to keep as much noise and dust out as they could, but the sooner the build was done the better. They both agreed on that.

“So, despite your switch with the cinnamon rolls this morning,” Cassian said from where he sat as she rinsed off their plates, “I’m fairly sure I saw a cake when I came downstairs.”

“Really now,” she said, and he saw the small smile on her face.

“Mhmm,” he nodded. “And, you know, I like cake.”

“And why, exactly, would I make you a cake?” She crooned, that little smile remaining.

“Because I’m the world's best roommate and uncle, obviously,” he said.

Nesta laughed as she stood. “Yeah, whatever.”

After exiting through the back door, she returned a moment later with a big, homemade cake.

It was exquisite.

Perfectly decorated and topped with vanilla and buttercream frosting, it read Happy birthday, Cassian!

As Nesta placed it on the countertop, Cassian asked, “Nesta, when the hell did you find time to make this?”

She shrugged. “Stayed up later and got up early. Didn’t have to be too early since you decided to sleep in today, but…” Her words trailed off. “I figured it was the least I could do.”

His mouth tightened, emotion he wasn’t expecting hitting him and he cleared his throat. “You gonna sing to me?” He asked, cracking a joke to break the tension that was slowly growing.

Nesta threw her head back and laughed. “Absolutely not.”

Cassian bit back his retort and the monitor in his back pocket went off, crying coming from upstairs.

“I’ll get him,” she said, standing up. “I’m sure he’s hungry. Will you cut up green beans and carrots for him?”

He nodded, the cake forgotten as he did what he was told, and Nesta returned with a bleary-eyed Nyx a few minutes later.

“Hi buddy,” Cassian said, chuckling at Nyx’s hazy expression. He was already sitting at the table with a plate of cut up food.

The second Nyx saw the display, he was whining and reaching for it.

“Slow down, you need to be buckled into your seat first,” Nesta said, shaking her head.

“I can’t blame him,” Cassian said, as Nyx was strapped into his high chair. “I’m starving when I wake up, too.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Men.”

The second Nyx’s diapered butt hit the seat, he was stuffing his mouth.

“I guess we should wait for him to eat the cake,” Cassian said, looking longingly at the cake.

Nesta chuckled. “No patience?”

“When it comes to homemade baked goods?” Cassian scoffed. “No.”

She snorted, which had Cassian raising an eyebrow. She looked at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he replied, shaking his head. “That was just…cute.”

Nesta didn’t reply, but he swore she could see her cheeks heating as she turned to put the leftovers from dinner away.

Once Nyx’s plate was cleared, Nesta cut three slices of cake. One was barely a sliver, one was mostly icing and one was damn near a quarter of the cake. She took the one with extra frosting for herself, placing the small one in front of Nyx and the larger one in front of Cassian.

Again, Nyx wasted no time scarfing it down. Cassian didn’t either, helping himself to another, much smaller piece afterwards, but not touching it yet.

“You sure you don’t want to sing to me?” He asked, taking a bite of the cake. “It would complete my day.”

Nyx, an impending sugar crash, was already dozing again. Apparently, his day with Uncle Cassian had well and truly worn him out.

She rolled her eyes and wiped the excess cake off of Nyx’s face. Pulling him out of his high chair, she said, “No, I think I’m good.”

“I’m just saying,” Cassian pushed. “If you wanted to really wish me a happy birthday, a song would do.”

Nesta snorted, taking Nyx in her arms and swaying, back and forth. “You’ve never heard me sing.”

“If your singing is as good as your cooking, it must be amazing,” Cassian promised.

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Have I told you that you’re full of shit?”

Cassian pretended to debate it. “Maybe once or twice.”

Nesta chuckled, and said no more about it. “Finish your cake, Nazari. This little monster is ready for bed. I’ll put him down. It’s your birthday.”

It wasn’t that putting Nyx to bed was exhausting. Although sometimes it could be a chore, Cassian nodded and took another bite of his cake as Nesta and Nyx disappeared.

In their absence, Cassian cleared his plate.

The cake was delicious.

He knew Nesta was an amazing cook, but didn’t know that her baking skills were just as good. It was the best cake he had ever eaten. He was even considering getting himself a third piece, but decided against it as she rounded the corner back into the kitchen.

She sighed, falling into her chair. “That may have been record time to get him down. He was practically asleep before I’d even pulled the curtains shut.”

“He had a big day,” Cassian said, eyeing the piece of cake on her plate that she hadn’t even touched. “Taught him how to make a mojito. He’s a pro. Maybe we should hire him on at the bar.”

Shaking her head, Nesta cut into her cake and took a bite. She chuckled. “I’m sure that doesn’t violate any labor laws.”

“Nah, we’re his guardians,” Cassian said, waving a hand. “We can certainly get some free labor out of him.”

She rolled her eyes. “I honestly can’t tell if you’re kidding or not.” She took another bite of cake, and Cassian’s eyes dipped to her mouth. He was quiet for long enough that she asked, “What?”

He hesitated but said, “You’ve got a little—”

He didn’t finish his sentence, instead he leaned forward across the small space between them and swiped the frosting that was on the corner of her lips away with his thumb.

Nesta didn’t move.

She didn’t push him away, didn’t tell him to stop touching her, either.

Cassian’s thumb lingered against her lips, and when she looked up, he was already watching her, quietly.

She opened her mouth to say something.

What? She wasn’t sure.

But, when her lips moved, Cassian’s did, too.

He kissed her, softly, slowly, and Nesta melted right into it.

[mercy-burning]

Second Nature

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer and Reader share some realizations after one of them has been kidnapped. Category: FLUFF + ADDITIONAL SMUT ENDING (18+) Warnings: Language, brief mentions of kidnapping and injury, bruising, sex (penetrative sex, protected sex, dirty talk, lowkey hand kink—i’m not sorry) Word Count: 6.1k

Full Request: “...Congratulations on your 1k! I have  request for your celebration, if possible. Spencer/Fem Reader. Post prison Spencer, instead of him being taken by the cult, the reader is, making hi realize that she’s Love of life and they get together. Smut,preferred, if possible. Thank you.” — @dreatine 

NOTE: I had a little conversation with @ssa-m-187 about a post which discussed that trope where Person A caresses Person B’s cheek, and then Person A leans into their touch and holds their arm to keep them there for comfort.. I mentioned that I might add it into one of my requests, and this is where it ended up! 😂❤

I also decided to add an alternate/additional smut ending in case anyone wanted only the fluff. It will be clearly marked when the smut starts if you choose not to read it!

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

***

Nothing bad ever happened to her. Spencer wished that was an exaggeration but it wasn't. In all the years he'd known Y/N, she was never kidnapped, no one she loved ever got kidnapped, and she never even got sick. Her moods were always visibly happy, no one had ever seen her with so much as a sprained ankle, and even bad hair days always seemed to escape her grasp.

So naturally, when she got taken by Ben's Believers, it came as no shock that Spencer was losing his mind.

Everyone kept telling him that they'd get her back, and that they all knew what to do, but it didn't stop the sinking feeling that weighed his heart down, far away from the surface where she was safe and waiting for him.

Guess it's safe to say, this whole situation stirred up some feelings he hadn't even known existed.

The first thing that came to his mind, aside from the initial shock of her being gone, was the first moment they met.

Y/N and Ashley Seaver had both been added to the team around the same time, and after losing Emily, the three of them had practically become inseparable. But that first meeting, the very second he laid eyes on her, it was something purely magical.

She was trying to open a jar of pickles in the break room, breathy and aggravated curses spilling from her mouth as if she were a sailor.

"Do you need any help?" Spencer asked, not intending to scare her.

But alas, she jumped, dropping the jar of pickles and causing it to shatter everywhere. "Shit!"

He offered to help clean it up, and she accepted, sighing about how everything she had was going to smell like pickles for at least a week. And once everything was picked up, she grabbed a pickle that had landed on the counter and took a bite, promptly saying, "Well, at least I got it open," with a mouth-full of pickle. "Thanks for scaring me, bud."

It was amusing to say the least.

And every time they'd gone out for food since then, Spencer made sure to order something with a pickle every time, just so he could offer it to her and hear her laugh about that day. Every time, she mirrored that moment, taking a bite and saying, "Thanks, bud."

Of course, back then he hadn't realized he did it because he liked her. He just thought it was nice to see her smile, to hear her laugh. That's what friends did, right? Made each other laugh?

That's what kept him going as they searched high and low for answers to get her back. Her laugh. It was there, replaying on a loop in his brain as if he could ever forget it.

And when he got her back, he vowed to make sure he made her laugh for the rest of time.

When they knew where to find Y/N, Spencer made it his mission to be the one who got her out of there. He wanted to be the one she saw when she was being rescued. He wanted to be the one who made sure she was finally safe again and out of harm's way.

And most importantly he wanted to tell her that he loved her. And he didn't want to spend another day without being next to her.

But first he had to get her out of there.

The second he saw her, it was like everything moved in slow motion. She was strapped to some type of mechanism that kept her hands at her sides and her head facing forward. And despite the fact that she'd never been held hostage, she looked very calm. She looked like exactly what the cult wanted her to be: a sacrifice.

It made Spencer's stomach churn. And it felt even worse when they moved in. Because everyone was getting down, and the cult leader jumped for Y/N, striking to kill.

The gunshot stunned him. He stopped in his tracks, hoping and praying that she wouldn't be hurt, and for one final time before he actually moved, he replayed her laugh in his mind. He briefly held on to the image of Y/N smiling at him without a care in the world before he inevitably saw her face to face for the first time in days, most likely without said smile.

But of course, the second it was safe and he ran to her side, she looked up at him and smiled anyway.

As Emily got the final restraints off of her, Spencer took a huge sigh of relief and welcomed Y/N into his embrace.

"Hey, bud," she breathed into his neck, letting him squeeze her tightly. He could practically feel her smile burning into his skin, tattooing itself there for all the world to see, and he squeezed her tighter, thinking of how he wouldn't have it any other way.

They clung to one another the whole plane ride home, curled up into each other and falling asleep after all the stress they'd been under. And it was no surprise to anyone that they even held hands while they did.

Y/N dreamt of him the entire time.

Specifically, she was remembering the day she almost quit. It would have surprised anyone to know she'd felt that way considering she never let her bad days show. But in those particular few months, she had really missed her family—and Ashley,—the cases were getting more and more stressful, and it all seemed to really take a toll on her emotionally.

But that one fateful day, she walked into the round table room, expecting to find no one since she always showed up early, and instead she found Spencer with a large wicker basket.

"What are you doing here so early?" Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow.

He smiled shyly. "Oh, um... I know your birthday was last week, and I feel bad I missed it since I was visiting my mom, so... I wanted to celebrate with you when we had a little bit of time."

He handed her the basket, and she marveled at all its contents, ranging from a few of her favorite books in different copies she hadn't owned, an array of her favorite candies, and most exciting, a jar of pickles.

"Oh, before you break the jar, I have something else for you," he said with a small laugh, pulling something out of his jacket pocket. "I've read that these are good for helping you open jars, and I even got myself one because we all know you're way stronger than me, so if you can't open a jar of pickles, I probably couldn't either..."

She would never know this, but in that moment he was kicking himself for being so awkward, even though the two of them had been friends for years. And he'd never know, but she hadn't even recognized it as awkward. She was incredibly thankful and endeared by his thinking of her, and it was the one thing that made her realize she could never quit her job.

She loved him too much too leave.

So she didn't. That morning she'd been planning on telling everyone her plans to find another job somewhere else, maybe closer to her family, and that night she walked out of the office feeling loved and thankful for her friends, and one friend in particular.

Currently, said friend was sitting quietly in the parking lot of her apartment while she dug up the courage to ask him inside for the night. Her plans consisted of sleeping in for as long as she needed thanks to a well-deserved few days off of work, and though Spencer would most likely return earlier, she desperately hoped she could convince him to stay.

It was quiet for a while and the lights in the car had long since turned off, leaving them in darkness as well as silence. Despite that fact, it wasn't eerie in the slightest... It was comfortable.

Even more so when Y/N reached over and grabbed his hand.

And then she spoke.

"Can... Can you stay? I'm fine, I promise, I just... I could really use some company, you know?"

"Of course," he answered almost too quickly. It made her laugh, and though it was small, he felt a weight lift off his chest at the sound.

The two of them walked up to her apartment in more of that comfortable, dark silence. The only light source to be found was within the dim lights of the hallway, though they'd made the walk so many times it was like second nature.

That familiarity followed them through her doorway, Y/N taking off her jacket and instinctively handing it over with her to-go bag, where Spencer's arms were already outstretched. He took them and removed his shoes, then transported their belongings to the chair in the corner of her living room, maybe five or six steps ahead from the entryway.

Y/N took a large breath and smiled as she flipped on the lights.

Spencer noticed, turning to her with a smile of his own. "Good to be home?"

"Mhm," she responded with a nod. "But you know what would make it even better?"

The knowing smile they shared brought warmth to her chest as he made his way to the kitchen, saying, "Peppermint hot chocolate, coming right up."

As her best friend made noise in the kitchen, Y/N padded over to her couch, flipping on the table lamp next to it and sitting down with an over-exaggerated humph. Her legs curled off to the side as she leaned against the armrest, taking a deep breath and breathing in the warm comfort of home, only amplified a little while later by the aroma of soft peppermint.

She could hear Spencer humming quietly to himself in the kitchen, the sound bringing a smile to her face. He always absentmindedly hummed her favorite song when he was making them food or something to drink, or even when they were just hanging out together in comfortable silence. She wondered often if he ever sang it to himself when he was alone.

And she was going to ask, but before she got the chance, he came up behind her with two mugs of hot chocolate. She took hers gladly with a smile that perfectly matched the warmth of the mug. And while she took the first sip as he walked around the couch and took his regular spot on the cushion next to hers, that warmth spread to her chest. She sunk into the couch as her eyes fluttered closed.

Beside her she could hear Spencer laugh. "That good, huh?"

"You're an expert hot chocolate maker, don't let anyone tell you any different."

Another laugh came from him, and the sound bought warmth to other places.

They sipped their hot chocolate together, once again basked in silence that was only disrupted by the distinct ticking of Y/N's cuckoo clock, a Christmas gift from Spencer one year after she'd mentioned how much she was oddly fascinated by them. It sat on the wall across from them, next to the TV and right above a DVD rack with her favorite movies. She stared at the clock fondly as she drank her way through the hot chocolate, and Spencer did the same.

Eventually they were out, and once their mugs were placed on either side table, they found themselves turning to each other with more of that second nature pulling them together like the moon pulling the ocean. Once their knees touched it was like the ocean dragged them under, only rather than suffocating, they found themselves breathing easier, like they were finally at peace.

The clock rung out, and only after it finished echoing did Spencer initiate conversation. He examined the bruise right under her eye, and once again the gravitational pull was too much, his hand reaching out to touch it with curiosity as well as concern. "Are you feeling alright? Do you need some ice or anything?" he asked softly.

Y/N felt her heart stutter at the featherlight touch of his fingertips, and despite herself, she blushed. "No, I'm okay. Better now that I'm home. With you."

His eyes flicked up to meet hers at her words, and the softness and genuine relief he found in them made him melt.

He moved to take his hand away, but Y/N reached up and gently grabbed his wrist, bringing it back to her face pacing his palm firmly against the whole surface of her cheek. He watched lovingly as she closed her eyes and leaned into his hand further, bringing her hand to wrap around his forearm and hold him there. And in that moment, he had to wonder if she could hear the loud, intense beating of his heart as it drowned out the clock's ticking.

"I... I was so scared," Y/N whispered, keeping her eyes closed. "I mean... In the back of my mind I knew you guys would come for me, but... That was... my first time ever being in a hostage situation by myself, let alone at all, and I..." She paused, stumbling on her words before exhaling a breathy laugh. "Those people were creepy."

Spencer laughed with her, his hand still resting on her face. When she finally did open her eyes again, she looked up at him through her eyelashes, and in that moment she looked so soft and vulnerable that he couldn't help but finally tell the truth.

In a whisper so soft she almost didn't hear it, he confessed, "I was so afraid that I lost you..."

"Yeah, but... You found me," she returned with a smile as she nuzzled into his hand further. "You always do."

Something in the way she said it made him bolder, and he realized then that that's what she always did.

She strengthened him, made him more bold and determined... And she gave him something to hold onto when he was lost. When things felt impossible, Y/N always said the one thing that put him back together and made him feel whole again, whether it was a few sentences, or in this case three little words: "You always do."

Completing him was her second nature, something he wasn't even sure she was aware of.

But now that he knew, he had to tell her.

"Y/n..." Spencer traced his thumb along the underside of her bottom lip, and he could have swore he felt her sigh out. He stayed paused, reveling in the way he seemed to have an effect on her, his thumb longing to slide further and trace her entire mouth.

Nevertheless, he continued. "You are... Everything to me. And I don't tell you very often how much your friendship means to me, but I... I can't keep going forward without you knowing just how much I care about you. Really, it..." He huffed a laugh, hoping he wasn't making an utter fool of himself and that she wouldn't push him away at this confession that was dying to escape. "It's embarrassing how much I love you."

He couldn't tell if it was exhaustion taking hold of him, or the relief he felt at finally getting that off his chest, but he held his breath as he studied her eyes, which were glassy like she was on the verge of tears. Her grip around his forearm tightened and she turned, kissing the inside of his palm and keeping her lips pressed there for what felt like forever, until he started to feel his skin go numb. Realistically he knew it was only a trick on the brain, how such a simple affectionate gesture like that had the most heart-swelling and mind-numbing effects on him because of how much he loved her.

But damn it, he didn't care.

She murmured his name into his palm, and her eyes flicked up to meet his again. That's when he noticed a tear fall from her eye and down her cheek, right into the side of his thumb.

Finally, she responded, "I love you, too, Spencer. I... I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to tell you, but... After what just happened, I don't know if I could ever spend another day without loving you."

His heart absolutely burst at the seams, warmer than before, and most certainly not from the hot chocolate. That warmth only spread, turning into a raging wildfire when she let go of his hand and moved forward, practically tackling him and wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him and pressing her face to the crook of his neck. His arms wrapped around her back, hugging her close as she straddled him and continued to nuzzle into his skin, his presence...

They held each other like that for a good minute before Y/N finally gained the courage to pull back and look into his eyes. They were just as glassy as hers, just as filled with love and comfort and home as she could ever have dreamed. Her hands slid down to rest on his shoulders for a moment before one of them cradled his face.

And then she kissed him.

She knew he loved her, he told her as much, but in case this was already going too far, Y/N kept it light and hesitant, desperately hoping it wouldn't make things weird.

But of course, there was nothing to worry about. And Spencer showed her that as his lips pressed deeper into hers, his hands on her back pushing her closer to him and seeking as much contact as possible.

She brought both of her hands to gently run through his hair, and at the sigh he let out against her mouth, Y/N tugged harder, pulling herself up so she could get into a better, more comfortable position on his lap.

They shared peppermint hot chocolate kisses until the clock rung out again, both of them pulling away with a little surprise.

"Has it really been an hour since it last went off?" Y/N mused in a whisper, taking in the swollen state of Spencer's mouth. The sight sent a course of butterflies through her stomach.

"I guess it has... It's um... It's late, maybe we should get some sleep."

"Only if you come with me," Y/N offered, running her fingers through his hair once more.

Spencer nodded with a small smile, his thumb tracing the bottom of her chin. "Of course."

They pulled themselves off the couch and, hand-in-hand, navigated their way to her bedroom. And even though they'd never actually done it before, sleeping in her bedroom together, the whole journey was so familiar it was like they'd done it a million times over.

SMUT ENDING BELOW

Y/N didn't know what time it was, only that the sun was brightly peeking through her sheer curtains, basking her bedroom in a warm glow that made it almost impossible to be comfortable under the covers. When she moved to take them off of her, she felt a hand snake around her waist, pressing firmly against her lower stomach and holding her in place.

"Are you awake?" she asked aloud to the air, softly in case Spencer was, in fact, still asleep.

"Mhm," he mumbled behind her, his breath softly fanning out across her shoulder. "Have been for about an hour."

"You could have woke me up," she said, turning around to face him. His hand lifted and then settled on her shoulder when she was in position.

"You deserved the rest," is all he offered in explanation as his hand gently brushed the hair from her shoulder. It tickled as it fell behind her, dropping off her body and across the back of her neck. Spencer trailed his fingers lightly up her neck until they reached her ear, and then he trailed them back down and over the curve of her shoulder, and then down her arm. He continued this and smiled as he took notice of the goosebumps that formed all over her skin. The thin tank top she'd changed into before bed left most of her exposed, each little freckle and hair that adorned her skin on display in the warm sunlight.

Meanwhile she smiled, heat slowly rising to her cheeks as she recalled their kisses on the couch. Needless to say, her dreams that night were rather scandalous, something she wasn't unfamiliar with, though given these new circumstances she was more than a little hot right now.

Spencer noticed, his hand halting its movement on her skin and resting itself on her waist over the blanket. "You're thinking about it, too? Last night?"

Y/N looked him in the eye and swore she saw them dilate when she responded. "Yeah. Among other things..."

"What... kind of other things?"

She would have told him, but since it was obvious they were both feeling the heat she bit her lip instead, a teasing look in her eye. "You're a smart man. You tell me."

"What if I... show you instead?" he whispered, his voice broken and obviously a little shocked that this was finally going to happen.

"Take it away, Doc."

His first kiss was sweet, reminiscent of the first one they shared on the couch, and his second was a little deeper. Y/N gave her stamp of approval by sighing, bringing a hand up to play with his hair again, and it was the trigger that shot him forward, his lips working hers with more passionate, methodical precision. Meanwhile his hand dipped under the covers and pressed firmly at her back, slipping under her shirt and bringing her closer.

She wrapped her leg over his waist, pulling herself forward to get as much contact as she could while he swiped over her bottom lip with his tongue. The small whimper she let out at his kisses made his hips buck forward involuntarily, to which Y/N clenched her leg tighter around his waist and tugged a little harder at his hair.

He tipped them over then, rolling so that he was hovering over her while their kisses only grew needier. His hand slipped under her shirt, feeling the expanse of her stomach and her sides. The low hum that came from her throat at his touches drove him half wild, so he boldened them, slowly sliding up and up until he reached her bare breasts. Her legs came out immediately and hooked themselves around the back of his thighs as she whined at his touch.

With curious kneads of her chest and even more exploratory kisses that were reciprocated with an equal hunger and passion, it didn't take long for Spencer to feel his insides churn with a desire that could possibly never be satiated. Even if Y/N was the one who kept him whole, he also knew she would be the one to completely wreck him to pieces. He'd rarely ever felt this type of desire before, especially not towards someone who took up every crack and crevice of his mind at any given moment. And now that he had it, he never wanted to let it go. She was going to utterly ruin him, and he'd never been more welcoming to that type of damnation—the type that was also his salvation.

Because she was everything all at once, devastatingly beautiful in every imaginable way.

Her hands tugged at his tee shirt, punctuating her urgency with a needy little whine into his mouth. He pulled back then, tugging off his shirt at the expense of taking his hands away from her. But from his higher position now, he took her in in all her wild glory, lips swollen and a little red, hair splayed out across the pillows, and her breathing visibly heavy. Even with the bruise under her eyes, she was the most breathtaking person he'd ever seen. She marveled up at him, willing her gaze to trail down his chest and stomach, her bottom lip tucking itself gently between her teeth as she stared at where his sweatpants hung low on his hips.

Y/N reached out and grazed her middle finger across the waistband of his pants, gently feeling the fabric and his skin at the same time. He was still, continuing to watch her explore his body the way he'd done hers, always amazed at the curious look in her eye— the one that was now swimming in a pool of lust. Her hand trailed upwards, feeling the soft planes of his torso until she couldn't reach any higher.

"Having fun?" Spencer mused with a smile as she rested both her hands on either side of his waist.

She sat up then, pressing a kiss to his neck while her hands travelled south, under the waistband of his pants. He sucked in a breath as she palmed him through his underwear, gently nipping his shoulder before she answered. "Oh, I'm having so much fun."

He was going to say something, but words escaped him as she sat up on her knees and continued tracing the outline of his dick through his underwear. He was painfully hard in an instant, a fact at which Y/N gave a low, amused laugh. Once she found the underside of his tip, she gently rubbed it through the fabric with her thumb, and the broken whine that he let out delighted her in every way. Her tongue traced his collarbone and the contours of his shoulders and neck until she reached his jawline. She licked him there too, humming as her thumb worked faster at his dick.

"Mmm, I've wanted this for so long," she told him softly, bringing her lips up to his ear. "Do you know how many times I've thought about us? Dreamed about us?"

"Not as many as me, probably," he choked out with a small laugh, audibly trying to keep it together as his stomach burned with every languid stroke of her thumb over his most sensitive point.

Y/N returned his laugh and sensually kissed his jaw before saying, "I doubt that." Then she dragged her mouth up to his lips and brought her hand out of his pants so she could thread all her fingers through his hair. Though they were kneeling, he was still taller than her, so his hard erection pressed firmly against her stomach as he brought her closer, gripping her hips and melting into her.

When his right hand slipped into her sleep shorts, she whined out and pressed herself harder against him, reveling in the way the heat from his hand practically burned into her ass. He kneaded her there as well, groaning into her mouth when she tugged on his hair and turned her head to deepen their kiss.

It was obvious that she was trying to feel some type of friction— her knees were willing her to get up higher, to feel him hard against her, but alas she wasn't able to reach. She showed her frustration by whining into his mouth and trying to pull herself up, the pressure of her arms around his neck getting stronger with every passing second.

"Spencer pulled away laughing a little, removing his hand from her shorts and bringing it to the front, dragging along the inside of her thigh. "Is there something you want from me, pretty girl?"

The nickname sent a fire through her veins that set off every smoke detector in her brain, the alarm coming out in the form of a whimper. "I want to feel you inside me," she whispered, nuzzling her nose to his and reaching down to guide his hand farther up. When his middle finger breached the fabric of her shorts, she whimpered again, willing herself closer to him. "Please, Spencer."

He hummed lowly, drawing circles into her skin. "Are you prepared? Like, do you... have condoms or anything, do we need one?"

"I have some in my top drawer if you want me to get it," she said quickly with a nod.

He laughed a little, amused at her eagerness, before pulling away from her and helping her off the bed. Once she was feet-first on the ground, she strode over to the dresser where she opened a small drawer on the top left and rummaged through it. Meanwhile Spencer followed her and came up behind her, pressing his front to her backside and making her tense. He brushed her hair aside and brought his lips to her neck, his hands resting at her waist.

She slowly rolled her hips against him, sighing out when his hands gripped her tighter. One of them slipped down into her shorts again, this time coming around front and resting over her clothed pussy. His fingers explored her like hers had explored him, teasing her in the same way that made her want to burst into flames.

"So wet already, pretty girl..." he mused, sighing and attacking her neck with more kisses. "I bet I'll be able to just slide right in..."

She outwardly moaned this time, clutching a condom in her hand and then slamming the drawer shut. "Alright then, Mr. PhD, why don't you put that theory to the test?"

He loved how eager she was, and a little impatient. Something told him that if he teased her enough, she might have just begged him for anything. But he didn't want to do that right now. No, right now he was planning on showing the love of his life just how much she meant to him. He was going to give her everything he had, and then some.

So he turned her around and kissed her, walking them backwards until his legs hit the foot of the bed. He almost went down, but before he could, he turned them around again. Y/N's body hit the bed, her legs immediately opening for him to stand between them. Rather than leaning down to kiss her again though, Spencer ran his hands tugged lightly at her shorts, to which Y/N gladly lifted her hips and allowed him to pull them off. Her underwear weren't too far behind, and then she lifted her shirt over her head, tossing it aside and leaning back on her elbows.

Seeing her fully bare like this was enough to drive him mad, but he held on, spreading her knees apart and sliding his hands along the insides of her thighs. "Y/N, you're perfect..." As he marveled at her and showered her with love and praise, he slid his hands further and further up her body until they reached her arms.

She helped him remove his pants and underwear, and once they were off, Y/N tore open the condom and handed it to him. He rolled it on and then leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. Then her temple, then her cheek... Then he pressed the softest kiss to her lips and looked her in the eyes. "You really want to?"

She smiled at him and nodded, bringing one of his hands to her entrance and pressing his fingers to the wetness that pooled there. "You feel how bad I want it?"

He groaned and kissed her then, circling his middle finger over her clit and making her cry out against him. After a few more seconds of this, Spencer positioned them at the head of the bed and angled his hips forward, the head of his dick coming in contact with her pussy.

He slid in slowly, reveling in every pure, blissful second that went by as he gradually became completely enveloped in her. Once he was buried to the hilt, Y/N threw her head back and bit her lip, her hands reaching out to play with his hair again. He ground himself into her for a few seconds before pulling back and then starting a slow, steady rhythm.

"God, Y/N, you feel so good... So... perfect for me."

"Funny, I was just going to say the same thing about you," she breathed. Her eyes trained themselves on his, and though there was a lot of love there, she saw something else that she recognized, something hesitant. It was close to the same look he gave her last night, after she'd explained to him that she was fine after he examined her injury.

He was going easy on her. But she wanted more.

Y/N reached up to tug his hair gently, biting her lip and batting her eyes. "I'm not made of glass you know... You can fuck me harder if you want to."

Everything from the look on her face to the way she said it to the way she clenched around him as she did made him half feral. He smirked at her without thinking, a natural reaction to her challenge. "Oh, you like it a little rough, huh?"

She smirked back at him and nodded, tugging his hair harder. "Uh huh."

Though he started fucking into her harder, his pace remained slow,  accentuating each rough thrust with a huff through his nose. Y/N's mouth opened involuntarily, the power of his movements rendering her almost speechless. Eventually though, she let out one large moan as her fingers even further tightened their grip in Spencer's hair.

Taking note of her reactions, he felt pleased with himself. "You like that, don't you, pretty girl? You like it hard and deep..."

Her hands dropped from his head and rested at the sheets, gripping them instead as he worked his hips a little faster. "Y—yes, baby, I fucking love how hard you fuck me."

The words tumbled out of their mouths so easily, each syllable spoken with the right amount of lust and truth, it was like their conversation was a dance. Their bodies and their words melded together in a perfect number that brought them further towards the climax.

But, as every dance does, their needed a little flourish.

Spencer reached out and caressed her cheek again, his thumb going straight to her lips. Y/N opened her mouth and sucked it in, swirling her tongue around it and groaning at the way he bit his lip when she did so.

"Fuck, pretty girl, you're gonna ruin me if you keep that up."

She smiled at his words, which allowed him to press his thumb flat down onto her tongue. Her mouth remained open as he held it there, her pants and moans coming out clear as day. And as if that wasn't hot enough, she batted her eyelashes up at him, and he fucked her even faster, both of them starting to feel the signs of impending orgasm.

He could have kept his thumb in her mouth forever, but to aid her in pleasure, he removed it, dragging it down her chin before bringing it to her clit and rubbing in tight circles.

"Fuck, Spence, that's it," Y/N moaned, looking down between their bodies and almost losing it at the sight that beheld her. "Don't stop, don't fucking stop!"

He leaned forward to kiss her then, the new angle finally bringing her over the edge. She cried out into his mouth as it explored her own, soaking up all the sounds she made and using them to fuel his own release.

They came together, and it felt  like years of tension and anticipation and love finally culminated into one giant explosion that enveloped them whole. It felt like, for a moment, nothing else in the world existed, only Spencer, Y/N, and their palpable connection that felt very much like a home in and of itself.

Even as they came down, their breathing slowing down and their touches becoming gentler, that explosion quieted right alongside them, an echo of love and warmth lingering in its wake.

Spencer pulled out and laid beside her, reaching out and gently touching the bruise under her eye. "You okay?"

She couldn't help but laugh. "Yes. I'm more than okay... I'm perfect."

He smiled at her, pure, true comfort settling in his bones. It was a rare feeling, but he was glad that it came with her presence. "Me, too. And I... I meant what I said last night, Y/N, I... I love you. More than words could accurately describe."

Her heart swelled at his words. "I love you, too, bud. More than anything in the world."

He contemplated for a minute, a smile forming as he said his next words. "More than pickles?"

Y/N threw her head back in a boisterous laugh that made Spencer's heart beat a little faster, before playfully hitting his harm and snuggling up next to him. "Yes, definitely more than pickles."

"Good. That would have been embarrassing."

"I don't love you more than peppermint hot chocolate, though. Or that cuckoo clock."

Spencer pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Yeah, but I got you those things, so technically that means you have to love me at least as much as them..."

"Okay. That's fair, I'll give you that one."

With an over-exaggerated, "Phew," Spencer smiled and pulled her closer, the warm sunlight from the windows giving him the most clear view of their legs tangled together over her lavender-colored comforter. It was so domestic, so perfect and loving and real that he never wanted to forget it.

He was thankful that he never would.

***

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @s1utformgg @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @reidsconverse @la-vie-en-amour1 @edgycowboy666

TAGS NOT WORKING: @emilyprentisslittlewhore @takeyourleap-of-faith

If you would like to be added to the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment, and I’ll add you!

[queensoybean0724]

Succession Chapter 1 (Karl Heisenberg/female reader) Resident Evil Village fic

Here is chapter one of my new fanfic!

Title: Succession

Characters: Karl Heisenberg, female reader, OCs

Rating: PG-13 for language and intense scenes (for now, this is a slow burn, but it will get very hot and spicy in later chapters)

Summary: You discover a long lost relative from Moldova that you didn’t know existed has died and you are his sole beneficiary.  You are on board a plane to collect your inheritance when your plane crashes in a village in Romania.

Author’s Notes: I do not own the characters from Resident Evil Village.  This is a work of fiction.  Anything remotely similar to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1

The music blasted from the car speakers as you drove down the main road towards the highway.  You had your phone plugged into your car stereo, your favorite Spotify playlist on shuffle.  Despite the A/C being on full blast, beads of sweat formed at your brow and rolled down your temple.  You adjusted the vents on either side of you, making sure the cold air directly hit your body.  The song that was playing had you tapping your fingers on the steering wheel, your head bopping to the beat.

The fridge at home was close to empty and it was beyond time for you to go grocery shopping.  The grocery list was secure in your purse and you were determined to stick to the items on the list and not make any frivolous purchases.  Money was tight and you only had so much money left before payday next week.

The song shut off suddenly followed by your ringtone.  Looking at the screen of your phone, UNKNOWN stared back at you. Probably a spam call, you thought to yourself, reaching to press the red Ignore button.  Unfortunately, your finger slid at the last minute and mistakenly tapped the Accept button. You watched as the call came through and the seconds ticked off.  FUCK!

“Hello?” you greeted with a hint of exasperation in your voice.

“Hello, am I speaking with Miss Y/N?” a heavily accented male voice responded.

“Yeah, this is she,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.  You tried your best to avoid these calls, ignoring them and letting them go straight to voicemail.  Very rarely was it followed with an actual message, which was more than fine with you.

“Miss Y/N, my name is Ron M. Dathermi.  I am a lawyer residing in Chisinau, Moldova in Eastern Europe…”

You raised your eyebrows at that.  Moldova?  Who the hell was calling you from Moldova?  Chalking it up to a scam, you were about to interrupt the man when he continued.

“...I wish I was calling under better circumstances, but I’m afraid I have some bad news.  Your great uncle, Serghei Popa, has passed away from a short illness and has named you his sole beneficiary…”

You couldn’t help the amused huff that came out of your mouth.  This must be some very elaborate scam.

“Umm...sorry, but I think you have the wrong person.  I don’t have family from Moldova and I have never heard of this man in my whole life.” You were about to hit the End button when Mr. Dathermi continued.

“Am I speaking with Y/N, born on (your birthday) to (your father and mother’s full names) and the granddaughter of (your grandfather and grandmother on both sides of your family)?”

Your eyes widened at that.  “Yeah, that’s me…” you answered.

“I know this may sound unusual, but Mr. Popa was the brother of your grandmother on your mother’s side.  He was given up for adoption at birth and taken in by a Moldovan family.  He did not have a spouse and had no children, and according to the genealogy report I have before me, your grandmother and your mother are both deceased.  Your mother was an only child, yes?  It appears to me that you are the last of his living relatives.”

You pulled off the road and into an empty parking lot.  The information you were being given was a lot to handle.  You didn’t have that large of a family.  You were an only child and raised by your parents and both sets of grandparents.  Both of your grandfathers had died before you turned 10.  Both grandmothers died within 5 years of each other and your father and mother died of illnesses, cancer and pneumonia respectively, in the last year.  Grief was a feeling that you knew better than anyone.  You kept to yourself mostly and you didn’t have any close friends or a significant other.

“Listen,” you began, “you are correct about all of your information, but how do I know this is not some kind of scam?”

The man on the other end of the phone cleared his throat and the sound of shuffling papers met your ears.  “I can imagine that this information is sudden and unusual.  What I will do is send a copy of his will and a copy of the genealogy papers to your address.  I encourage you to take this to your lawyer and have them look over the information.  The reason I am calling is because I need you to fly to Moldova, sign these papers, and accept the monetary inheritance that he has left you.”

Your jaw dropped as you looked down at your phone.  Fly to Moldova?  Is this true?  The only thing you knew about the country was that a foreign exchange student from high school was born and raised in Moldova.  That about sums up your knowledge of the country. This seemed incredibly asinine and ridiculous.  But the word that settled in your train of thought was “inheritance.” What inheritance?

“Mr...what was your name again?” you asked.

“Mr. Dathermi, but you can call me Ron,” the lawyer responded.

“Ron...umm, how much monetary inheritance are we talking about?”

More shuffling of papers was on the other side of the phone, Ron clicking his tongue as he looked through the information.  “He has left you 53,806,746 Moldovan Leu...which translates to $3,000,000 in American currency.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!?!” you exclaimed before clamping your lips shut.  You heard Ron chuckle.  “I’m sorry, pardon my language. It’s just...wow...this sounds insane…”

“I can imagine it does,” Ron replied, “which is why I want to mail this information to you and have your attorney take a look at it so you know this is a legitimate will and testament.  If you would like, I can mail the information straight to your attorney if you are still leery.”

“No, no, that’s okay,” you said, shaking your head.  Your mind was whirling.  None of this sounded remotely true.  You felt as if you were dreaming.  This felt like something that only happened in books and fairy tales...a girl who had nothing and nobody suddenly inheriting millions of dollars from an unknown distant relative.  What are the odds of something like this happening in real life?  You gave Ron Dathermi your home address.

“Thank you very much, Miss Y/N.  I will send this as soon as possible.  I’ll also include my business card so your attorney can contact me and we can iron out the details.  Thank you very much, Y/N...I’ll be in touch.”

You thanked him as well and ended the call.  All alone in your car in the empty parking lot, you let out an excited squeal and started hopping up and down.

*

You adjusted the messenger bag that was slung across your shoulder as you heard the overhead speaker call for the boarding of your flight.  Taking a deep breath, you got in line, extended your ticket to the airport employee, and walked down the tarmac and into the plane.

Butterflies were fluttering in your stomach.  Your hands gripped your bag tightly as the flight attendant looked at your boarding pass and pointed down the aisle to where you were to be seated.  You had never flown before and your nerves were on alert.  Scenes from Final Destination flashed in your head as you walked down the aisle towards your seat.  Taking a deep breath and willing your body to relax, you located your seat next to the window and sat down, plopping your bag onto your lap.  

The small window was close to the wing of the plane and looking beyond that was a long expanse of grass that met a vast forest.  You were thankful that you had the window seat and your headphones so you could tune everything out and relax in your own little world.

Once the papers from Mr. Dathermi arrived a week prior, you immediately called the attorney that helped you with the probate and will from your parents’ deaths several months back.  He was more than happy to help, knowing that you were all alone in the world after your parents had passed.  Two days later, he called to inform you that all of the paperwork was, in fact, legitimate and that Mr. Serghei Popa was the brother of your grandmother.  He showed you the adoption papers, confirming that your great uncle had been put up for adoption and the family that took him in had relocated to Moldova when he was two years old.  He had remained in the country until his death.  Your attorney contacted Mr. Dathermi, who in turn secured a round trip plane ticket in order for you to come to Moldova to finalize the paperwork and collect the inheritance.

At the thought of the money you were about to acquire, another surge of excitement flowed through you.  Your parents hadn’t left you much after their death and you worked at a dead-end job that had no room for advancement and no possibility for raises.  All of these recent events sounded like something out of a fairy tale.

“This is your captain speaking,” the voice sounded from the speaker above your head, “we will be departing in the next ten minutes.  Please make sure your seatbelts are secured, your tray tables are up, and all electronics are off until we are at the appropriate cruising altitude.  I will inform everyone as soon as the coast is clear.  Thank you for flying with us and enjoy the ride.”

You fastened your seatbelt and laid your head back, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Don’t be nervous…” a voice sounded next to you.  You opened your eyes and looked over to see an older gentleman with wide rimmed glasses and a nice smile.

“Is it that obvious?” you asked, returning his smile.

“It’s pretty obvious,” he chuckled, “my name is Bruce Williams.  I’m the air marshal on board this flight.” You told him your name and shook his hand. “Just relax,” he assured, “we’ll be flying for the next 10 hours.  There are lots of movies and tv shows to watch on the screen in front of you, or you can listen to your music and read a book if you brought one.”

You patted your messenger bag.  “Yeah, I have a few books to choose from.  Thanks,” you smiled.

Within minutes, the plane had backed away from the tarmac, turned towards the long expanse of runway, and increased speed before leaving the ground and soaring up into the clouds.

*

The steady hum of the plane’s engines provided a relaxed soundtrack as you slept.  It was close to early morning, according to the clock on the tv screen, but your watch was still on your regular time zone.  It read early afternoon and that threw you through a loop.  You had heard that jet lag could be a bitch and you wondered how bad yours would be once you landed.  Bruce had passed you a pillow and blanket once you were ready to sleep and he assured you that your bag and belongings would be safe while you slept.

You were so thankful to be seated next to him.  Not only was he the air marshal, but he was a really cool person as well.  You two talked about movies and actually watched a couple of them on the tv screen in front of you.  Bruce was kind and nice to talk to.  The crinkle of crow’s feet around his eyes, his laugh, and his hair color mixed with hints of gray reminded you of your father...maybe that’s why you liked him so much.

You shifted in your seat and let out a soft yawn.  Stretching your arms above your head and arching your back, you wondered how much longer it would be until you touched down in Moldova.

“You weren’t asleep that long,” Bruce murmured.  You looked over to see a book in his hand and his glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom and then go back to sleep,” you replied, standing from your seat.  Bruce stood up and allowed you out into the aisle.  You made your way to the bathroom towards the back of the plane.  The cabin was dark with little lights dotting either side of the aisle on the floor. Soft lights were shining here and there from people reading, watching the tv screen, or messing with their phones while most of the passengers were asleep.

Once in the bathroom, you did your business, flushed the toilet, and began washing your hands.  The mirror in front of you showed a tired and weary version of yourself.  Some of your eye makeup was smudged.  You told yourself once  you returned back to your seat, you’d retrieve the makeup remover wipes in your bag and do away with the dirt and oil.

Just then the plane hit an air pocket and dropped several feet, throwing  you forward towards the sink and mirror.  You let out a shriek as the plane quieted and went still.  “God dammit,” you muttered, putting your hand over your heart, “that scared the shit out of me!”

Once out of the bathroom, you slammed the door shut and walked back to your seat.  You tapped Bruce on the shoulder and he moved aside.

You lifted the window shade and looked outside.  Natural light from the start of the day began to show.  The plane was amongst the clouds so it was fairly cloudy and hard to see.

“How much farther do we have?” you asked Bruce.  He shifted the book to his left hand and looked down at his wristwatch.  “We should be there in three hours.  I think we are flying over Romania right now…”

You nodded your head and thanked him, turning back to the window.  The clouds gave way momentarily and provided the opportunity to see the ground below.  Tall, snowy mountains came into view.  You smiled and marveled at their beauty, wondering what mountain range this was.  You cursed yourself for forgetting the basics from your World Geography class in high school.  Hell, all you knew about Romania was that it was the setting for Dracula and the real life territory that was once owned by Elizabeth Bathory, who allegedly killed upwards of 650 maidens and bathed in their blood.  You shook your head and smiled to yourself.  You really did enjoy some morbid and fucked up stories.

Your train of thought stopped short when a large and spacious castle came into view.  Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped.  It looked like something out of a Disney movie or from ancient castles that still sat throughout Europe.  The place looked like it stood on several acres of land and who knows how many square feet.  What a gorgeous and breathtaking place it was.  You wondered just what was inside a monstrosity like that and who was lucky enough to inhabit such a place.  Maybe there were castles in Moldova that you could explore and visit while you’re conducting your business.

The castle fell out of view and not far from it stood what looked like a village.  You were too high up to see any people or any traces of lights or torches.  You took everything in with total awe and appreciation.  It looked like a small and sleepy storybook town.

A sudden movement close to the village caught your attention.  You squinted your eyes and tried to look closer, pressing your forehead to the window.  What the fuck is that, you wondered.  It looked like a black tree, naked of leaves or any type of growth...and it was moving.  It looked to be swaying in the breeze, but the size of it looked way too sturdy for any kind of gust to move it with such fluidity.  As you focused on the tree, it appeared to be growing...getting closer to the plane.  Was the plane descending?  Were you getting closer to Moldova?

One of the branches of the tree slowly drifted to the ground before extending long and rigid, slinging itself up into the air like a bullwhip, hitting the wing of the plane.  The plane suddenly tilted as the slithering limb wrapped around the wing and broke it off.  You let out a loud scream as the plane turned on its side, Bruce falling against you, squishing you to the wall.  “WHAT THE FUCK??” Bruce screamed as yelps, shrieks, and screams echoed in the cabin of the plane.  Dozens of people were knocked from their seats, flight attendants falling into the aisle and rolling towards the cockpit.  The plane shook and quaked as it dropped several feet in a matter of seconds.

“OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!” you screamed, grabbing hold of Bruce’s arm.  The air masks dropped from overhead and Bruce grabbed yours, making quick work of putting it over your face.  “HOLD ON TO IT! HOLD IT OVER YOUR MOUTH, Y/N!!” he commanded, reaching for his own mask.

“THE WING OF THE PLANE HAS BEEN DAMAGED!” the pilot yelled from over the speakers, “WE ARE LOSING ALTITUDE! BRACE FOR IMPACT!”  People screamed and panicked, holding on to whatever it was they could.  Panic surged through your body as your fingers dug into Bruce’s arm.  The plane shook as it fell.  Your stomach dropped and it felt as if you were seconds from impact.  You looked out the window one last time before the ground came into view and everything went black.

*

He leaned over the body on the metal table in the lab of his factory.  He fastened the bolts with a wrench and tested the strength of the metal against the rotting flesh.  A soft horn sounded in the distance along with the various turns of chains and clangs of steel against steel.  He wiped the sweat off his brow and walked to his desk, looking over the blueprints and sketches he had devised the previous day.

Despite the different array of sounds, nothing could mask the loud crash that sounded off in the distance.  He lifted his head, silently trying to figure out what the fuck made that noise.  Leaving the body laying on the table, he exited his lab and made his way down the stairs and to the factory doors.  

With a grunt, he slid the doors aside and looked off into the distance.  Black smoke billowed from an area that looked to be close to the village.  Other than the crows squawking and flapping their wings in retreat, everything was dead quiet.  He looked off to the right just in time to see the long, spindly limbs of mold retreating back towards the earth.  Karl Heisenberg’s face tightened in a disgusted grimace.

“Mother Miranda...what have you done?”

[sakurology]

could you do the nsfw alphabet for atsumu please? thank you :)

Aw shit, here we go again...

NSFW Alphabet: Miya Atsumu

gn!reader focused

A/N: She hasn’t written in awhile but you know what I’m proud of it- lol be nice to me or I’ll leave forever jk I won’t but still be nice to me ily 💕 Atsumu is a menace I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Obviously nasty below the cut so if you’re a kid fuck off

𝕬 - 𝕬��𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖊

He’s not the best, but certainly not the worst. He will take care of you, but… only after he takes care of himself first. Usually that just means he needs to take a shower. Once he does, he’s free to supply cuddles until you both fall asleep.

𝕭 - 𝕭𝖔𝖉𝖞 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙

He has abs so solid you could make a sharkcoochie board on them. That’s all I’m going to say about that.

𝕮 - 𝕮𝖚𝖒

When Atsumu cums… he cums hard. It’s like having an out of body experience- every nerve cell in his body is firing off as he tenses up, digging his nails into whatever flesh he can grab, and grinding his heels into the surface supporting him. He bites down so hard his teeth grind involuntarily as his face contorts in a strained statuesque vision. One low growl from deep in his chest comes out through gritted teeth as he sputters out mixtures of “that’s it,” and “don’t you dare fucking stop.”

The orgasm face of Atsumu Miya is one of the 7 wonders of the world.

𝕯 - 𝕯𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞 𝕾𝖊𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖙

It’s not a secret per se, but he’s been exposed and clowned for eating ass… so he doesn’t wanna talk about it.

𝕰 - 𝕰𝖝𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊

So contrary to popular belief, I don’t think he’s that experienced... he’s just lucky! (Lmaoooo all of his experience is based on like 2 actual people that he maybe got to second base with (he says third but come on we know he’s lying) and then a litany of porn. Poor thing just wants some coochie I AM HERE KING and he has no trouble finding it, he just never seals the deal. He’s someone who just kind of, knows what to do naturally. He’s able to read someone’s body by touch alone, and so he knows what you like right off the bat based on how you react. He might try a couple of things at the start to see what really makes you squirm, but once he’s got it... holy hell has he ever got it.

𝕱 - 𝕱𝖆𝖛𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝕻𝖔𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

I hate to say how easy this was- but I KNOW Atsumu is a guy who prefers doggy. I see him as a hair puller, so this is perfect for him. I also could see him being into mirrors, and this is the perfect position to make you look at what he’s doing to you, especially while he’s pulling your head back by your hair. He especially likes gripping his thumbs into the smalls of your back (he crosses his arms bc saw it in a porn once and he thinks it makes him look cool), and when he’s INTO it, he likes to smack your ass to encourage you.

𝕲 - 𝕲𝖔𝖔𝖋𝖞

Is goofy by accident. Like will sometimes try throwing in something new with his normal dirty talk that completely throws you off. He hates when you laugh at him for it, but you find it endearing.

𝕳 - 𝕳𝖆𝖎𝖗

I’m gonna… say something so controversial yet so bold:

What hair?

And yes I mean that. Smooth. He waxes. Monthly. No hair. (Besides like… legs and armpits… yah he doesn’t touch those) Naked mole rat dick but fuck it he’s Atsumu motherfucking Miya he can do what he wants.

𝕴 - 𝕴𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖈𝖞

While he’s not the most... romantic in general per se, he does want to make you feel appreciated. He’s very eager to get his, but he won’t allow himself to unless you have already. It takes restraint, but he cools himself down by having you get on top, or by leaving lingering kisses anywhere he can, saying you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

𝕵 - 𝕵𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝕺𝖋𝖋

When he’s away from you he loves to send you videos of himself or FaceTime you. He gets you worked up enough to join him no matter where you are. He just needs to see you, he needs you to see him stroking his cock to the thought of you- he can’t cum without you telling him to.

𝕶 - 𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖐

I have to get this out but I KNOW he’s nasty. I imagine Atsumu as a huge dirty talker and also someone who’s into spitting. Both of those are just clear in my brain... like he would be pundinng you from behind, spit on your back, and then call you a slut all in 3 seconds flat but the way that you would cream? Ugh insanity he needs to be arrested he needs to be stopped

𝕷 - 𝕷𝖔𝖈𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

Since he’s got money now- he’s a big fan of ordering Uber XLs or even just hiring a driver for a night on the town as a flex. But he especially loves telling his driver to put up the window partition while he annihilates you in the backseat. I just think he’s a fan of car sex in general- it just does it for him.

𝕸 - 𝕸𝖔𝖙𝖎𝖛𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

Loves to hear his name. Whether you’re moaning it or screaming it like it’s the only word you know, he’s always going to ask you who you belong to, and the answer is always Atsumu.

𝕹 - 𝕹𝖔!

He totally eats ass. He’s just not gonna tell anyone bc he told Osamu ONCE and now his contact name is ASStumu and he lives in fear of that getting out.

𝕺 - 𝕺𝖗𝖆𝖑

Sloppppppyyyyyy. Loves giving ~slightly~ more than receiving, simply bc he loves the sight of seeing his spit dripping down your thighs while he goes down on you. Loves eye contact when you’re going down on him.

𝕻 - 𝕻𝖆𝖈𝖊

Though I wouldn’t say he’s super experienced, I know he’s relentless. He fucks. Literally just fucks. Not in the sense that he only treats you like a hole bc yikes, but in the sense that he just goes the speeds of fast or faster. There’s no slow with him.

𝕼 - 𝕼𝖚𝖎𝖈𝖐𝖎𝖊

Yeah. Lots of them. Anywhere, anytime. Particularly for him, a lot of them end up being in his car, simply because you’ll be out somewhere and the mood strikes. He’ll quickly take you out to the car for a few minutes, slut you out, and then return to the function like nothing happened. You’ve had many a quickie in a bathroom or closet in a party as well. When he wants you, he wants you, so he’s not afraid to take you.

𝕽 - 𝕽𝖎𝖘𝖐

Not as much of a risk-taker as people think. Mostly because he wants to protect you. He would hate for someone to see you in such a compromising position… but also, you’ve had your fair share of quickies in the bathrooms of various wedding receptions, so he’s lying.

𝕾 - 𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖆

Can last a decent amount of time, if he spreads it out over multiple rounds. I’m general, he can probably go about 2 or 3 rounds without needing a break. More if you draw out foreplay with him. He’s a pleaser, so really how long he lasts is up to you. He’s got the power and control to hold off on is own release until he’s certain you absolutely can’t take anymore.

𝕿 - 𝕿𝖔𝖞

One of those mfs who gets you the mold of his dick as a toy for your birthday for when he’s away because according to him “you’ll be so needy while I’m gone”

I hate him so much but I would use that shit every day he knows what he’s doing I’m so upset

𝖀 - 𝖀𝖓𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗

Speaking of being needy- he loves to egg you on when you are. He knows all the buttons to push, but he’ll never actually make the move until you’re begging. And of course he loves to turn that around in you, hitting you with that “god, ya just can’t get enough of me, can ya?”

𝖁 - 𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖚𝖒𝖊

He’s more of a talker than a moaner. Not necessarily loud in bed- but very, very vocal. Commanding of you in a good way, and will definitely show his appreciation through praise.

𝖂 - 𝖂𝖎𝖑𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖉

Actually has a Cosmo subscription bc he likes trying all the strange and obscure sex positions in the articles. Also likes taking the quizzes, and will casually have you do them with him at breakfast.

𝖃 - 𝖃-𝕽𝖆𝖞

he’s a little on the thicker side. Its probably a good 7 inches, so it’s enough to fill you, add in the stretch of his girth and it’s a good, mild burn when he first goes in, but he fills you just enough without it being way too much. He’s a shower, so he doesn’t get much longer, but you have a lot to work with. He also has a cute freckle on his left inner thigh.

𝖄 - 𝖄𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌

His sex drive is on the higher end, but really only when he’s in his off season. When he’s actively playing in games, he tries to curb his appetite a bit because he believes in the superstition that sex messes with players’ stamina on the court.

𝖅 - 𝖅𝖟𝖟

He’s gonna knock out, but not until he showers. He ALWAYS showers after. The water soothes his muscles and by the time he’s done it’s lights out.

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[harryhandstan]

prompt: harry wakes up early on starbucks cup release days and surprises you by buying all the ones he thinks you’ll like. he’s usually able to escape the paps but this time they catch him and he ends up having to explain it in his next interview and gets all shy and can’t stop blushing.

a/n: hello all!! first I want to apologize for my 4 month long writing absence. life just has not been kind to me lately and unfortunately zapped a lot of my creativity energy, but I’m happy to have something done now! hopefully I can continue and keep a more consistent schedule for the remainder of this year!

immense thank you’s are owed to my kind friends @tobesolonely and @meetmymouth for the encouragement to find my creative spark for writing again and for being amazing betas! and to @taintedwonder for the lovely idea! @theharriediaries​ was so sweet to beta for me as well!!

word count: 2.1k

writing tag | masterlist | tiktok inspo 

Harry was usually smarter than this. He had a schedule, a plan, a way to get in and out pretty quickly without being seen. 

But today, he’d lingered too long at the mugs, curious if you’d want one of those as well. Your go-to was iced coffee, even year round in the winter you would prefer something cold over anything warm. He was thinking though, of the nights you were stressed and wanted a cup of soothing tea before bed, or those slower mornings where you don’t have to rush and a mug of coffee fits nicely in your hand while he admires you from across the kitchen table.

By the time he’s decided that yes, you do need this mug with the pastel rainbow print to add to your collection, along with a few of the other cups he thinks you’ll adore and a fresh bag of your favorite flavor of coffee, there’s already a small crowd of people forming in the lobby of the coffee shop and he hopes that he can get through them without being recognized as usual; prays that it’s only the regulars filing in for an early morning fix of caffeine before they rush off to start their day.

The barista thankfully is quick, skillfully giving him his total before rushing off to make the drinks he ordered for the two of you as well. He sees the way her eyes keep darting to him though, knows after years of experience that she knows who he is and is trying to work up the courage to say something to him or ask for a photo. He almost considers offering, she’s been so nice not to draw any attention to him, maybe something discreet could be pulled off. 

In the end he chooses not to, not wanting to assume that’s why she keeps looking over at him. It could be that he still has the hood of his sweatshirt tucked over his beanie or the fact that he’s now walking out of the shop with a small handful of the brown shopping bags with the familiar green logo imprinted on the front.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he makes it back to his car without anyone stopping him. He’s so distracted by securing the bags in the backseat he fails to hear the small clicks of the camera not too far away.

There’s a small comfort in the quietness of your shared apartment when he returns. While he loves coming home to the sound of you dancing around the kitchen making breakfast, his favorite is getting to wake you up himself. There’s a sweet softness in the way the side of your face rests against your pillow, mouth parted slightly and a gentle snore vibrating through your chest. It never fails to make him smile. He cherished the way you inhale faintly, stretching your limbs before blinking a few times, adjusting to the new day you’re waking up to. If he was there, already awake, your eyes always found him before anything else.

This morning is no different, except for the confusion on your face when you find him sitting on the edge of the bed instead of snuggled next to you. 

“You’re up to something, I can tell.”  You’re propped up enough now to accept the coffee he’s holding out for you. You take a few small sips, sighing and letting your head fall back against the headboard as you savor the taste.

“M’that easy to read, huh?” He chuckles, his hand on your thigh now, warming your skin even through the blanket, “Well..would you like your surprise here or will you be joining me in the kitchen while I make you breakfast?”

“Oh I get a surprise and breakfast today? What’s the occasion? Little early for my birthday, H.” 

“Don’t need an occasion to spoil my girl, do I?”

“I guess not.” 

You shrug, trying not to let the guilt bubble up enough to where it flashes across your face. One of his loudest love languages had always been gift giving, a quality about him you thought was wonderful, but still had a hard time accepting. You had to be careful about mentioning things you may want around Harry, he would use any excuse to treat you.

He’s rambling off his reasoning already as he leads you into the kitchen and settles you in one of the tall chairs next to the counter. He always ends his explanation with “I know you told me not to, but…” followed up by what you’re sure to him sounds like a very logical justification for why you need/deserve whatever he was gifting you. There’s nothing out of the ordinary of your regular kitchen set up this morning though, so you do what you normally do when he announces a surprise for you; let him take the lead, not wanting to take away from his excitement. 

“So..surprise or breakfast first?” He stands on the other side of the counter now, his hoodie and beanie discarded, wearing a t-shirt you were sure you bought for yourself but he seems to have laid claim to.

“Breakfast, please. If you don’t mind.” 

“‘Course not. Any requests, baby?”

Your heart flutters for a moment, just as it does each time he uses that particular term of affection for you. He’s already opened the refrigerator, scanning over options for what he could make for the two of you. You recover long enough to tell him no, that whatever he wants to make would be fine, sitting back and enjoying the view as he cracks a few eggs into a bowl.

You don’t even notice that you’re staring until he turns and catches your eye, “What? Did I get a shell in the eggs or something?”

You giggle as he even picks up the clear bowl of eggs that he’s already scrambled and seasoned, even going so far as to swirl his finger through the liquid to double check before you can stop him.

“No, it’s just..I can’t get over the fact that you’re making breakfast for me while wearing my t-shirt.”

“S’it yours?” He glances down at it, “Thought it was mine, sorry..”

There’s a smirk on his face as he turns back to the stove, and you know just by seeing that he knows you don’t mind; you love seeing him in your clothes as much as he adores seeing you in his.  

It’s not long before he’s presenting you with a plate, sitting next to you with his own plate in front of him. When you don’t immediately dig in, he leans over to inspect the food, worried that maybe he’d overdone the eggs or your toast was slightly more brown than you liked. 

So when you say, “You’ve forgotten something very important, haven’t you?” he panics, thinking maybe he should’ve taken the time to include fruit to balance the meal. You take pity on him, not making him wait too long before you lean in and he instantly softens, realizing what you’re asking for. 

He meets you the rest of the way, lips soft against yours, the taste of the coffee you’ve both had lingering for a moment before he pulls away, “Very important. How could I ever have forgotten?”

When you’ve both finished eating, he downs the last of his coffee and stacks your now empty plates to take to the sink, pecking your forehead with another quick kiss, “Alright, close your eyes. Count to 20.”

You begin to count off in your head, and you hear his voice, a bit further away, “Out loud, angel.”

There’s a rustling of bags getting closer as you count, and you can even hear a few clinks as they come closer. You can feel him moving around you, positioning things perfectly for when you open your eyes. 

He’s still behind you when you finish counting, hands squeezing your shoulders to urge you to open your eyes. When you do, you immediately recognize the bags and know exactly what he’s done.

“Oh no. Absolutely not. This is too much, Harry. I let you spoil me with little things here and there, but I cannot accept this.”

Sitting in front of you are..you stop to count them now; 1, 2, 3, 4..6 bags from Starbucks. You know from experience that each one of them contains 2 cups or mugs. You’re sure at least one of them also includes your favorite roast of coffee. He had done this before around Christmas time, when you’d mentioned how adorable a few of the ones from the holiday collection had been, not thinking that he would go back later without you and buy all the ones you’d touched or admired.  

He ignores your refusal, “You can take back any you don’t like. Go on,” He peeks inside one of the bags closest to him and then pushes it closer to you, “Start with this one.”

“Harry, really..”

“Don’t think, just open. If you really won’t accept any of them then I’ll take ‘em back and buy you something from somewhere else.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” You try your best to look serious, but you can’t stop the smile from spreading across your face, “Thank you, H.”

You finally go through most of the bags, offering oohs and ahhs and even a few squeals of joy at certain ones. 

“I think I got all the ones you’d pick for yourself. Saw you eyeing one or two the other day and the others I just guessed.”

He had done very well in choosing for you, even going so far as to get the two of you a matching pair of the kind that changed colors with the temperature. 

“For our smoothies.” He explains when you give him a particularly soft look at the idea of matching with him. 

“Also got us a matching set of these,” He skips to the last bag, too eager to wait for you to open it yourself, revealing the mug he’d taken the extra time to select, “For our Sunday morning tea. Or if you change your mind and ever want a hot coffee.”

All you can do is repeat the same expression of gratitude as before you had opened them, “Thank you again, H. I love them all, really. No more though, alright? We’re running out of cabinet space. Did you go to our regular spot or a different one so you wouldn’t be recognized?” 

“Different one. Can’t believe I wasn’t spotted though. Must’ve been too early for the paps to be out and about.”

“Or maybe you aren’t as interesting as you think you are, babe. Harry Styles coming out of a Starbucks is old news now.” 

His eyebrows shoot up in mock surprise, “Oh is it now?”

“Mhmm. You’re just plain boring now, H.” You shrug, peeling at the price tag on the bottom of one of the cups, avoiding his gaze; knowing if you look at him you’ll break into a fit of laughter. 

He’s impossibly calm, just like he is before any interview he does. 

You sit across the room from where he’s currently getting his hair done. The stylist was nervous, understandably so, her hands unsure at first. It only takes a few moments of being near Harry; working his quiet, delicate magic of putting anyone he’s near at ease. By the time his hair is finished he’s pulled a few laughs from her and she leaves the room with a big beaming smile and a wave to the both of you.

Now that you’re alone again, he beckons you closer and tugs you down to sit in his lap, despite your protests of the possibility of wrinkling his incredibly expensive suit. 

“Don’t care,” He leans up to press a kiss to your neck, keeping his face tucked there in your warmth, “Just want you close for a moment.”

Normally you would run your fingers through his hair, but you don’t dare do that now, hand drifting to the side of his face instead, “Not nervous are you, H?”

He lets you gently push him back enough to see his face again, “Never. Just happy to have you here with me, that’s all.”   

It’s not until he’s in front of the audience, presented with the evidence of just a few days before, displayed on a screen for all to see. He had been caught, despite his confidence of getting away. He falters for only a beat, head down in hopes to hide the blush spreading high along his cheeks. He finds you in the crowd, sending a bright smile your way before he shrugs, turning his attention back to the host.

“What can I say? My sunshine likes her coffee.” 

//

tag list: @harrysblackcoat​, @summertime-pills​ 

thank you for reading!! as always likes, rbs, and feedback is welcome and appreciated!!

[liz-allyn]

shudder, part 3/6 [agent mobius x gn!reader]

You're undercover on a mission with the team, and Mobius' affinity for cowboy culture is making things unexpectedly difficult.

Part 1 | Part 2

Series Summary: Pre-Loki series. You are one of the most dangerous variants the TVA has ever recovered, but Mobius knows what makes you tick. Five times he made you shudder, and the one time you returned the favor.

Words: 1.6k

Chapter Warnings/Tags: Language, period/canon-typical gun violence, cowboy!Mobius (valid as a warning), mutual pining, flirting, fluffy and fun, at least one naughty thought.

A/N: let me know how you feel about longer chapters!

III.

The next time it happened, it was 1881, and you looked ridiculous.

Your clothes were too tight and the leather smelled like the cattle you were wearing was still alive. You didn’t get to pick your uniform for this mission, and since you were supposed to be deep undercover in an active timeline scenario where reset charges were not permitted, wearing a TVA-issued “Variant” jacket wasn’t going to work.

So now here you were, sweating your ass off in what would one-day become the Las Vegas desert, with your partner wearing a giant 10 gallon hat holding a revolver to your back. He definitely looked ridiculous, and you let him know that. But to be fair, it was almost... cute. Sort of.

Variant T-3051 was the target, this stagecoach robbery at gunpoint was the trap, a Skrull artifact locked in a safe was the bait. And you were technically also bait, disguised as the hapless hostage.

Mobius laid it on extra thick for this one; you were pretty sure he was enjoying himself.

“Easy does it, fellas,” he said in a honeyed voice. “Everyone move nice and slow.” With one hand on your shoulder and one hand on the gun trained on your back, he urged you forward with a gentle double-squeeze near your collarbone. It was a little secret communication between you two. “Keep your hands up where I can see ‘em, sweet thing.”

You struggled not to overtly roll your eyes as you lifted your hands slightly higher. You were 99% sure that Mobius had never held a revolver in his life and probably didn’t know how to fire one. The man’s idea of excitement is debating top historical time periods at lunch with you or fantasizing about jet skis. Or whatever he fantasizes about.

You glanced at the team around you, a mix of Minutemen led by B-15 - on a giant ass horse holding a rifle steady with only her eyes visible behind a black bandana, and a band of outlaw civilians who were T-minus 9 minutes from their destined massacre. The mission, simply, was that one of these people was not like the others.

U-91, also dressed as a Frontierland cast member, barked an order to hand over the chest or else. While he was monologuing on about whatever “else” was, you were scanning the group carefully waiting for the Skrull variant to reveal himself. Or you were, until—

“Hey,” you heard Mobius softly whisper behind you. You glanced to the side without turning around as he leaned closer to you. “Nice work infiltrating the gang.”

You could feel the heat of his breath on the side of your neck, and your stomach was doing something odd because of it.

“Okay,” you whispered back, trying not to move your lips. “Now is an inappropriate time to—”

“Where did you learn to ride a horse like that?” he exclaimed under his breath. “That was incredible.”

You weren’t sure if it was the anxiety of the situation, the harsh sun off the surrounding mountain range, or his praise that was making your skin flush.

“Um,” you softly replied, taken aback that he was actually impressed, “I mean- my aunt used to have this pony ride business. They’d do birthday parties—”

U-91 snapped at you, the talkative hostage, “Hey! I said shut up!”

Mobius reared back his grip on your shoulder and suddenly you crashed back into his chest. You cried out as he wrapped his arms like a vise around you.

“That’s right, I said shut your trap!” he hissed at you, playing to the audience around him.

It wasn’t often that he got to play the bad guy, but he gave it a valiant effort. You could feel the (hopefully) unloaded barrel against your back. He brought his other hand up to your throat, firmly squeezing, pulling a gasp from you.

He leaned into your body, pulling you tightly against him, as he dripped sugar-coated poison in your ear. “Not another peep outta you, ya hear?”

The first thought that sprang through your head was remembering your kink for authoritative bad boys.

Uh-oh, was the second, third, and fourth thought in your mind.

Your core was tight and you realized how heavily you were breathing when his grip loosened slightly from your throat, slipping down just a tad. You felt the warmth of his hand and resting on the skin of your chest. B-15 was already giving orders, but your brain wasn’t following the conversation anymore.

“Are you okay?” Mobius breathed in your ear. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You slowly exhaled the heat of your breath, shaking your head ‘no’ and ‘yes’ for some reason. You could feel your pulse thrumming in your neck and you knew he could feel it too.

“Did I scare you?” he asked, inquisitively. You could hear the edge of a grin in his voice.

Your brow furrowed. “What?”

“Did I scare you just now?” Your eyes darted back to the group of outlaws as B-15 began to round them up. You were definitely supposed to be paying attention to the mission, but all you could think about was how heavy his hand was on your chest. He could curl you into himself if he wanted to.

If he wanted to, and if you wanted him to, he could keep playing cowboy outlaws. He could steal you away from your bed in the middle of the night. Or maybe he could turn you in for a bounty and visit you while you’re locked in a jail cell, making you do favors for him in exchange for freedom…

Uh-oh.

He leaned in a little closer. You could feel the shadow of his lips at the nape of your neck. “I felt you shudder just now... Did you get scared?”

“No!” You replied, almost too loudly.

“Oh. Are you cold?”

“What? Why?”

“I mean, if you’re trembling and it’s not because you’re cold, and it’s not because you’re frightened, there must be some kind of reason, right?”

Your face was burning. You’re pretty sure it’s the sun. Heat stroke. You’re dying, probably, definitely, maybe.

You gritted your teeth. “Why. Are. We. Talking about this?!”

“It’s not me, is it?” he replied coolly, like taking a sip of bourbon and lemonade on a hot day. You could hear the smirk on his lips. “You’re not intimidated by me, are you?” His cast his eyes over your rosy cheek with a satisfied gaze. “Maybe I make you a little... nervous?”

“WHA’THUH HELL—?” A terrified twang rang out and you both were snatched out of the clouds. You looked up to see a green-faced cowboy, cow-Skrull? Skrull-boy? - hostile variant reach into the the side holster of one of his outlaw posse. As soon as the Skrull had his hands on his “partner’s” weapon, he shot his partner through the back, killing him (just a few minutes before his time).

Variant T-3051 was fast. As B-15 fired her rifle, he was already pulling another stunned outlaw in front of him as a shield. T-3051 raised his gun towards B-15 and fired towards her horse. The animal raised up on its hind legs, bucking her off.

“Take cover!” Mobius ordered, pulling you down with him, but there wasn’t much around.

T-3051 fired a shot blindly, striking U-91 in the arm. He dropped to the ground and crawled in a one-arm dash for cover.

In the chaotic confusion and fear, the other outlaws drew their weapons and began to fire on the TVA team and each other.

The horse that B-15 was riding began to trot off, trampling a fleeing outlaw. B-15 struggled to grab her weapon off of the ground, but T-3051’s boot dropped down on the rifle, pinning it beneath his foot. She looked up to see the barrel of T-3051’s gun pointed at her, sights trained.

You had already grabbed the single-action revolver out of Mobius’ hand. He reached for you, but you leapt out of hiding with his gun raised high.

You shot the gun out of the variant’s hand before he could fire. Stunned, T-3051 dropped backwards onto the ground as the other handful of living outlaws turned their attention towards you. With one hand rapidly pulling back the hammer as the other hand steadied your aim and squeezed the trigger, you knocked them down like bowling pins.

A few shots later and it was over. T-3051 attempted to crawl towards the stagecoach, but B-15 leapt on his back and collared him. With a push of the button, he was frozen in time.

“Target acquired,” she stated into a radio, winded from the skirmish.

Mobius jogged towards U-91 as he pulled himself to his feet. He deftly inspected the Minuteman’s injury. “U-91 is injured,” he reported into his own communications device. “Alert the infirmary. B-15?”

“All clear,” she nodded.

Mobius’ eyes searched the area frantically until they rested on you. You walked up to the safe as B-15 retrieved the alien artifact - a twisty, metallic, (oddly) phallic-shaped thing.

You snorted. “This is the bomb that could rip a planet in half?” you asked incredulously.

If you didn’t know any better, you thought you saw the tiniest smile on B-15’s lips. She radioed in, “Artifact is secure.”

Grinning with an amused chuckle, you glanced over and spotted Mobius gazing at you proudly, watching the sun rise and set in your smile. You felt your cheeks flush, dropping your eyes to the ground and biting your lip. God, this was bad. He could not look at you like that.

“Incredible,” you heard him breathe.

Part 4

A/N: Did you like it? Reblog & let me know! Also seriously, I feel like my chapters are getting long. If that’s a bummer for anyone, please say so.

@aloyssia @generalhugzzz