#but this sheet is only meant as a “heres some cool patterns i noticed” and for those who want inspiration

[brambletakato]

I got bored so I made a little chart of frequently seen eyes and their details in Professor Layton!

[lemariee]

Chapter 18

Gerda paled as she nervously trailed behind Rayne with a thousand thoughts circling through her head. She had the urge to run down to her room but that was not an option. Borra certainly had no reason of having her in his chambers.

Her eyes scanned the new section of the castle they were in, noticing the gold walls and silver columns that connected to large arched windows. This floor seemed a lot more spacious. Her pulse grew loud in her ears as they walked into a large hallway that was decorated with gold and white marble walls. At the end of it she noticed a large door which only meant it was his room.

"I-I don't understand...why am I needed here?" Gerda asked with her voice trembling as she walked behind Rayne.

"Do you not recall him ordering you to accompany him or are you dim in the head? Perhaps he has other 'tasks' in mind for you." Rayne harshly said with a hint of disgust in her tone.

Gerda felt sick as she took in the double meaning behind Rayne's words. There was no indication he wanted to use her in such a way. Borra had made it clear that he would never think of her in that manner despite the tempting aroma her body gave off. Her steps faltered when they stopped in front of the door. She glanced at Rayne who was currently glaring at her with accusing, wary eyes.

"Borra is the leader of my people, if I find out you're seducing him with hidden motives I will personally kill you myself." Rayne threatened her with her eyes glowing.

"I would rather die than allow that creature to put his hands on me. I can completely assure you he has no intentions of sharing his bed with me." Gerda sternly said feeling sickened by Raynes accusation.

"You're assurance is not needed. It's obvious how dull you are compared to the beauty and power of Maleficent. Borra had his share of many whores so if he ever takes you in then know that's all you'll ever be to him. Maleficent is the only woman he has a future with and she has far more to offer him than some weak human scum." Rayne mockingly shared, causing anger to boil inside Gerda.

Gerda fiercely glared at her with balled up fists but the rage diminished once the door opened on its own after Rayne stood in front of it. She then pulled Gerda inside with a tight grip, nearly dragging her. Gerda flinched when the door closed behind them leaving her in a mess of nerves. She was taken aback by the large, intriguing room that felt alluring to her. The floors were made of smooth stone with a square pattern. She noticed the walls were also stone but decorated with smooth patterns that captured her attention with their beauty.

She carefully took several steps forward studying the columns that surrounded large, arched windows allowing a view of the vast range of forest and mountains. Her eyes noticed several steps leading into a massive pool of warm soapy water that was located in the center of the room.

Off to the corner of his room was a massive bed with red silky sheets and pillows neatly set on it. She was rather puzzled seeing a bed instead of some nest made of vines and leaves. It was said his kind typically slept in trees like wild birds.

Borra certainly slept like royalty despite him being a creature that came from nothing barely surviving off a hidden edge of the world. The room was simple with its breathtaking beauty and sensational interior. It held an ancient earthly beauty to it that was fitting to Borra's taste. Her eyes were drawn to the various plants that appeared to be latched onto every corner of the room giving it a tropical feel.

A gust of cool wind brought her attention to the most captivating feature of his chambers. At the very end of the room was a open space leading to a balcony with two curtains held off on each side by a gold serpentine tieback. Her breathing faltered when she noticed the outline of Borra standing at the large balustrade with his back facing her. His wings appeared relaxed behind him while his eerie, dark horns created a terrifying image. Her hands clenched together almost attempting to calm her panicky body. She was actually in 'his' chambers and it felt strange to her, almost forbidden.

"Leave us." Borra said with a strong, smooth voice that brought unease to Gerda.

Rayne threw Gerda a warning glare before turning and exiting the room. Gerda kept her eyes on the now closed door with the fear of facing Borra. She was currently weak, and not emotionally stable to handle his cruel tactics that he might have in store for her. Her body slowly turned back around with her eyes fixated on the floor once she heard the sound of him walking towards her. Gerda's hands trembled as they clenched together in front of her lower abdomen. The sound of her frantic heartbeat was all she heard when she felt his presence lingering in front of her.

"So much fear...for what?" Borra's silky low voice said, drawing Gerda's attention.

Gerda nervously glanced up at him with suspicion lurking in her blue eyes. She shouldn't be here, even back at her old kingdom it was deeply frowned upon for young women to be alone in a man's chambers. The whole concept was forbidden if they wanted to keep their name untarnished. Even though Borra was not human, it didn't change the fact that he was a male.

"B-Back in Ulstead...it was considered highly inappropriate for women to be alone in a man's chambers." Gerda sheepishly said with her voice quivering.

Borra studied her with blank eyes adding more fuel to the anxious emotions stirring around in Gerda. She felt stuck in place by his stare and that disturbed her to no end. This was a situation she wasn't prepared for.

"We're not in Ulstead so the rules there do not apply here." Borra smoothly said, causing Gerda's eyes to widen in fear.

"Why am I here? I do not understand why you requested my presence here of all places." Gerda timidly asked, taking a step away from him.

Borra's eyes flickered down to the hem of her dress when he noticed her feet cautiously stepping back. He then glanced back up at her face with amusement in his eyes. She felt as if he was purposely toying with her emotions as some sick form of entertainment.

"I did not request you here to inflict harm upon you if that's what you're insinuating. I would like you to undo my gear. Think of this as an exchange of trust between one another." Borra responded, motioning to the straps that connected to the harness and leather shoulder pauldrons on him.

Gerda froze feeling her body grow numb and brittle by his unexpected request. For a second she couldn't breath nor move. Thoughts did not flow in her brain while she failed to process why he would want her to do such a thing. He was putting far too much trust in her when all she had to do was pull out the thorn between her breasts and stab him in the heart.

The fact that she was alone with him and his strange request left her mind wondering if he just might have certain motives in mind for her. Or perhaps he knew about the secret weapon she carried. He could be testing her as a means of having more reason to kill her.

"I am not a woman of loose morals so if you have those 'type' of intentions with me then–" Gerda attempted to say but was then cut off by Borra's mocking laughter.

"Don't even bother finishing that statement, I certainly do 'not' want your body if that's what troubles you. I don't share my bed with human whores and never will. Enough with your idiotic assumptions." Borra said with a disgusted look on his face.

Her feet moved on their own accord as she forced her body to obey his baffling command and almost instantly did his scent overpower her. Gerda felt her breathing speed up when she felt the warmth from his body radiating onto her cold skin. She shakenly raised her hands and felt the buzz of tingles on her fingers as they came into contact with his bare chest.

She suddenly became aware of how much skin he always had exposed. Just as she was about to reach for the strap that hugged over his shoulder; a golden, tiny bell shaped object piqued her interest as it glinted in the light. The strange object was firmly attached to the strap as if it held a special meaning.

Her mind was muddled with many thoughts as she undid the first strap that hugged his chest. He was solid to the touch and almost feverish with his body heat warming up her cold, tender hands. She could not control the red blush that took its dominant place on her usual pale cheeks. Gerda was never one to pay attention to a man's physique nor has she ever put any thought into it.

She couldn't stop her eyes from gliding over the strange, hard texture of his pale skin that appeared cracked in some places. He was decorated with various scars that faded into his skin, giving him the appearance of fresh cracked marble. It all indicated that he had been through many battles and was perhaps a skilled fighter. She wondered how something could be so beautifully flawed yet unique in its own nature.

It felt abnormal to be this close to his body without him being aggressive or lashing out at her. This was the first time Gerda had ever been in such proximity to his kind unless she was killing them. Yet here one was, tamed and calm right before her like a leashed animal.

She couldn't bring herself to kill him, not at the moment. Her mind was far too distracted with studying him like some kind of painting that had a hidden puzzle to decipher within it. She always been one who studied their kind like the wild beasts they were.

Her hands moved to undo the second strap that was near his rib, allowing her to get a closer look at his toned abs which in turn made her stomach unnaturally flutter. She instinctively wanted to trace them. Out of curiosity she wondered how the texture would feel. Of course she would never do it unless she wanted to risk broken fingers or loosing a hand. She reminded herself that he was equivalent to a untamed animal.

Instead her fingers continued their task, trying to avoid brushing his skin again. However, the mere thought of it drew out various emotions that she was unfamiliar with. It was as if her body was deeply drawn to his and that alone terrified her.

She couldn't understand what this strange pull was but it lingered down to her core. It was a longing, primal need that only grew with the more time she spent near him. Gerda then backed away breaking the invisible rope that lured her body to his. She was sickened by it and wanted to wash her hands as if she had committed a mortal sin. It only made her despise him even more for simply existing in the same space as her. He was disgusting and vile. An abomination to nature itself.

Her eyes flickered up to his once she was a good three feet away. Borra stared at her for several seconds with dark amber eyes before pulling at the straps, allowing his leather pauldrons to fall onto the floor. Gerda nervously shifted her eyes off to the side feeling her cheeks burn with embarrassment and shyness. He seemed too bare for her and she found herself growing uncomfortable. Borra appeared to have caught on to her nervous behavior and stared at her with mild curiosity.

"Have you not seen a bare man before?" Borra asked as if he presumed Gerda had, earning a bashful expression from her.

"I...No, I have not." Gerda muttered feeling her blush intensify as his eyes studied her with a hint of interest.

"So you have never been with a man?" Borra smoothly asked after a moment of silence with a dark glint in his eyes.

Gerda had never felt so exposed in her life, especially in front of a creature who should not be able to draw out such emotions in her. She was a virgin and had not thought much about it till now. Her body had never been touched or explored by a man nor did she ever crave for such distracting affections.

"I only focused on my duties to my kingdom so I had no time for such useless desires." Gerda softly said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Borra's eyes greedily overlooked Gerda's body before glancing back up to her face causing Gerda to shift in an apprehensive manner. She felt a sprinkle of fear growing within her wondering what was going through his mind. He said he would never touch her in a suggestive manner.

"You mean the duties that involved the downfall and slaughtering of my people? Quite the dedicated little worker you were to give up such pleasures in life." Borra bluntly said with his animalistic eyes on her.

"I have my reasons for doing what I did to your people just like you have your reasons for hating humans." Gerda admitted trying to keep painful memories of her past from resurfacing.

"I have a long list of reasons as to why I despise your kind but surely you wouldn't understand. The atrocities and genocide committed upon my people go back long before you were born. You all should be wiped out." Borra hissed at her.

"So that's it then? Hold all humans accountable for the crimes committed by a few? I understand the hatred you feel with me but many have never shed fey blood. You're completely invalidating the innocent human blood that was shed by your kind." Gerda said with her eyes trailing off to the side of him as the memories of a screaming young boy flashed in her mind.

Borra silently studied her for a moment with his now deep golden gaze roaming over her face. She felt vulnerable whenever he looked at her like that. The topic was now heading towards territory in her mind that she had preferred buried away from the world. He then walked up to her till his body was a foot away. Gerda swallowed her mixed emotions as she nervously stared up at him trying to ignore the bareness of his torso.

"You're all the same to me...deceiving, selfish, greedy, and 'weak'. Humans destroy everything they touch, not caring who gets caught in the middle of their thirst for power. You don't know what it's like to lose everything and everyone you love to heartless creatures and slowly see the growing extinction of your people. Don't speak to me about innocence." Borra angrily whispered to Gerda with his eyes boring into hers.

Gerda briefly observed the emotion of pain in his eyes that made her feel obligated to speak a bit of her truth. He was displaying emotions that she didn't think was possible of him. She came to realize that she was part of the reason he held so much hate towards humans. She was part of the problem.

"I-I killed many of your people...I did it for a kingdom who all this time held such little regard for me. I'm the one you should blame. Don't hold resentment towards those of my people who had nothing to due with the slaughter of yours. Let your hate end with me." Gerda softly said with pleading eyes.

Borra's expression faltered at her words almost as if he wasn't expecting them. He stared down at her with hesitance and lingering remnants of his previous pain. She realized that he was showing a vulnerable part of himself to her. She took a deep breath before continuing on with her words.

"And you're wrong about me not knowing what it's like to lose everything...I know 'exactly' what it's like." Gerda said taking in his shift of mixed emotions that now flowed around in his eyes.

Borra appeared taken aback by Gerda's unexpected admission to him. His eyes gazed down at her almost as if he was trying to make sense of what she was telling him. They then slowly shifted down to the bare, exposed skin of her shoulders and neck before glancing back up to her face. He suddenly blinked away and took a quick glance towards his straps and pauldrons that laid on the floor behind him.

"Take those to Rayne and have her escort you back to your room, I'm expecting company. You are dismissed for today." Borra roughly said with a hungry glint in his hard eyes as he stared at her.

Gerda immediately followed his commands and rushed over to grab the straps and cuffs from the ground. Without a single look at him she turned and swiftly walked out his chambers feeling relieved. She was met by Rayne who keenly studied Gerda with prying eyes that made her feel guilty for something she had not done which only irritated her.

"I did not lay with him if that's what you're concerned about. We merely exchanged words before he dismissed me to my room." Gerda explained with a clipped tone.

"I know. You would've been drenched with his scent if you had, which brings up the question of why he would request your presence with no intentions of laying with you. Borra only calls women to his chambers for lustful purposes. What could he possibly want with 'you'?" Rayne asked in a condescending voice as she looked Gerda over with criticizing eyes.

"I don't know, perhaps to keep him company while he waits for his lady 'friend' to arrive. Either way he does not see me in that sense so that alone should ease your worries. Now please take me to my room." Gerda said growing more irritated by Rayne with each passing second.

"I still don't trust you so despite what you say I will be keeping my eye on you. Now hand me those." Rayne said with cautious eyes before walking up to Gerda and snatching Borra's belongings from her.

She then motioned for Gerda to follow her without a single word or glance. They both traveled in silence down the hall and onto the magical tube that then took them down to the first floor. Gerda found herself thinking over the fact that Borra had trusted her within his own personal chambers. She pondered over why he would do such a thing. None of it made sense and it made her wonder why she didn't kill him when she had the chance.

"Celtra should be waiting inside for you. Clean yourself up and prepare for dinner." Rayne sternly said before turning to walk away.

Gerda rolled her eyes at her rude behavior before pushing against the door to her room. She wondered why it didn't magically open for her like it did for everyone else. She shrugged the thought away and entered her room with the need to lie down. However, that was put aside when she noticed a calculating Celtra sitting on the armchair by her fireplace. Gerda closed the door behind her and proceeded to sit on her bed sighing once the soft material came in contact with her hands.

"So how was your first day with Borra?" Celtra asked with interest as if she was some adolescent.

"Exhausting, vexing, and gloomy. Just as I expected it to be with him." Gerda truthfully answered as she recalled the betrayal she felt at the tavern.

"Now you know I'm going to need more details then that. There had to be something of interest that happened." Celtra insisted as she pressed Gerda for more information.

"He requested my presence in his chambers...I found it very odd of him." Gerda said feeling her cheeks warm up at the memory of being near him.

"That surely is very odd of him, what was the reason he requested you for?" Celtra asked with curiosity and a hint of excitement.

Gerda furrowed her brows when she realized she didn't have the slightest clue as to why he requested her. They spoke a few words after she removed his gear but that was it. He claimed that the purpose was an exchange of trust but she found herself puzzled by it.

Surely to her, it was a test of trust because she had the perfect opportunity to kill him but didn't. However, there was no way he would know about the secret weapon she had hidden within her bodice. It was impossible for him to know otherwise he would have her thrown in a dungeon.

"I'm not quite sure...he claimed it to be an exchange of trust and asked me to remove his gear." Gerda silently said, pondering over the strange colloquy between her and Borra.

"What a curious request for him to ask of you. He typically does that himself so I agree with you on it being quite odd. I suppose it was to be an exchange of trust but I'm sure there are other means he could've went by for that purpose." Celtra thought out loud, only adding onto Gerda's interpretation of Borra's request.

"I hope this doesn't become repetitive of him, I don't feel comfortable with the idea of me lingering around in his chambers. I'd prefer my name remain untainted especially with him having a reputation for seducing women." Gerda confessed feeling concerned with the thought of rumors going around about her and Borra.

"As you had admitted before, he has a strong hate for you so perhaps that could protect your name from being ruined by such rumors." Celtra said in deep thought.

Gerda's fingers traced a pattern on her bed as she recalled what Borra had admitted to her back at the tavern. She felt a bit on the edge when he confirmed being able to detect her strange alluring scent that seemed to attract other fey.

"There was something else that happened." Gerda hesitantly said instantly gaining Celtra's attention.

She paused trying to find the words to explain her predicament but struggled. Celtra appeared to grow impatient as she eagerly starred at Gerda with mild excitement. Gerda sighed and continued on with what she had to say.

"I had asked him about why his kind appeared drawn to my scent. He explained how it was due to my body releasing a fertile aroma that fey women typically carry as exceptional mates." Gerda said feeling the previous disgust return before swallowing it down to continue her story.

"I then asked if he too was detecting this scent on me and...the answer was yes." Gerda finished noticing the sudden interest and curiosity grow in Celtra's eyes.

"That would explain his strange possessive behavior towards you at times. It's within our nature to seek the most suitable mates who carry the highest chance at producing strong, powerful offspring. Though it makes no sense as to how you're carrying this scent since you are clearly human." Celtra said with her brows furrowed in confusion.

"That's why I feel it's important to get to the bottom of this. He seems to not care about my predicament but I refuse to ignore it. There has to be some kind of explanation as to why this is happening to me." Gerda desperately voiced.

"Us fey and humans have been at war for a long time over land and resources. This rare phenomenon happening to you might be the key for our kind to ensure its survival." Celtra explained trying to make sense of Gerda's predicament.

"What you're suggesting is absolutely impossible and even then I am repulsed by the thought of it. Fey and humans are not meant to blend bloodlines, it's all maddening to even put thought into. I refuse to believe this nonsense." Gerda said with panic and disgust rising within her.

The sound of her door opening interrupted Gerda and Celtra's conversation. Both their heads turned to look at Rayne as she stood at the entrance with her head held high. Gerda resisted the urge to scorn her for not knocking.

[dreamties]

A Study In Bad Days And Caring For Your Little || polyam!ghostface

a/n- some of my mutuals/friends helped sorta,,, encourage me to post this?? so here it is !! i hope y'all enjoy <3

basically the reader has a bad day, and their caregivers rr their to help them feel better !! :D

warning: Stu is referred to as daddy <3 if ur not comfy with that, plz don't read.

word count: 2,011

this is entirely SFW- don't be gross about it and I won't block uu :)

It’s a late day at the end of high school, working tirelessly on class work and dealing with mean kids. Y/n’s pretty much done as the bell rings to signify the school day is over. It had been a no good, rough, bad day in more ways than one. They had to stay in at lunch to finish up a test, and had no time to meet up with their friend group. Their parents working late, and their partners still without a license, they walk home.

The sun is beginning to set by the time they reach their house. They try not to curl up and sulk in their room too much though- they still had to do their homework and make dinner for themselves. Though...a short nap wouldn’t hurt. They feel around underneath their bed, pulling out a box of secret comfort items. In it, there's various things, but on top is a small, fuzzy blue blanket- patterned with the blue and white puppy, Cinnamaroll. They rub their face against it, before looking for the other special thing.

They frown when they can’t find it. They sort through it again and again, and dumps it out in a desperate attempt. Okay, you could have always forgotten to put it back, they try reasoning with themselves. Y/n looks under near where the box had been hidden, and between their tangle of sheets, and the crack between the wall and their bed. Their eyes begin watering. They just wanted to relax after a long day- why do things keep getting worse?

Maybe all wasn’t lost as they spotted their notebook, a lightbulb shining in their head. They pick up their blanket, gnawing slightly on the edges, and their notebook. Making their way to the landline, fumbling with the pages to find his number. It rings once, twice, a third time- an overwhelming feeling of anxiety takes over them, causing their whole body to shake. Then, Stu answers.

They can hear Billy in the background making some offhand comment to Stu- who’s giggling into the receiver. “Aaagh! Okay! I’ve stopped- Y/n’s on the line! What’d you need, babe?”

They don’t answer, still nervously chewing on their blanket, and attempting not to burst into tears.

“Babe, you there? Y/n?” His voice uncharacteristically serious, dripping with worry.

They let out a pitiful whine, sniffling as they responded, “‘m sorry.”

“It’s cool-” he’s cut off, as Billy takes the phone from him.

“Whatcha need, love?”

They wipe their eyes, voice small, “C-can’t find my stuffie. Miss you an’..and daddy.”

They can hear a gentle- yet frustrated- sigh leave Billy. “‘s it the bear one?”

They hum in return. “We’ll be there soon.”

The conversation ends not long after. Billy and Stu suggest to Y/n that they cuddle up on the couch or their bed while they wait for them. It feels like an eternity before they finally hear knocking at the door. In their excitement they leave their blankie on the couch, and race to greet them. Opening the door, their eyes glimmer at the sight of their caregivers.

“Daddy!” They squeal, rushing into Stu’s arms for a hug. He laughs, holding them in return. When he eventually has to pull away, he immediately notices the tears staining their face and the redness in their eyes.

He tries to ease a tension he hadn’t noticed before, “Miss us that much?”

They give him a quizzical look and slowly, realize what he meant. They shake their head.

Stu pouts, “Aw, feeling kind of hurt by that.”

Billy rolls his eyes, roughly elbowing his partner. “They forgot their stuffed animal, moron. I told you that.”

Billy looks down at Y/n, who gives him a sad, helpless look. “Here baby, let’s go inside,” he instructs. “I’ll give it to you in there.”

They excitedly nod, and go to reach for his hand, only holding on to two of his fingers. He gives a small chuckle as they try pulling him into the house. He follows. Stu close behind. They make it into their bedroom, briefly letting go and jumping onto their bed. Falling back into it, they look up at Billy with a big, toothy grin.

He gives a tiny smile in return, sitting beside them, back against their cushie pillows lining the wall. He beckons them into his lap, and they nestle right in. Stu joins them a minute later, Y/n’s blue blanket in hand. “Left it on the couch.”

Y/n spots it almost immediately and makes grabby hands towards it. Billy shakes his head at them, “C’mon, you know how to ask,” he teases.

“Can I have my blankie, daddy?” Their voice is muffled against Billy’s shirt. He runs a hand through their hair, graciously taking the item from Stu. He tries handing it to them, but they don’t take it. He’s reminded again of what they really needed.

“Stu’s got a surprise for you.” They sneak a peek at him, he’s got the other hand that didn’t have the blanket held behind his back. They try looking behind him, but it’s a fruitless attempt.

“You wanna see it?” He gives a mischievous grin.

Billy frankly had enough of him today though, “Don’t play games with them, Stu.”

Stu shrugs off his comment, “Wasn’t gonna,” he argues. He then whips out Y/n’s teddy bear- causing a much different reaction than I either of them hoped for or expected.

They tear up again, and whine. Stu’s quick to sit beside Billy, leaning into him, and hands the stuffed animal to them. “W-where was it?” They ask, finally taking what had been offered to them.

Billy holds them close to him- protectively. They hide their face in his chest, clinging to the front of his plain tee with their hands. Their stuffie in between. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “Stu said he’d wash it for you last time, do you remember that, baby?”

Their frustratingly pitiful whine ends, they sniffle, “‘m sorry. ‘Causing all tis trouble.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” he responds casually.

“B-but I shoulda known,” they mumble.

Billy lets out an almost frustrated sigh, trying to stay patient with them. He runs his hands through their hair, attempting to soothe their emotions. But he can see fresh tears begin bubbling up, staining the front of his shirt.

“What’s been bothering ya, darling?” They look up at him, and he tenderly presses his thumb on their cheek, wiping a tear away. They don’t respond, trying to quiet themselves. “Someone hurt you?”

They let out a pained mewl, seeking safety pressed into Billy again, but they’re stopped by Billy. He makes them look up at him and Stu.

“Tell us,” he demands.

They close their eyes, finally murmuring, “Mean kids.”

Billy glowers, his eyes giving a far away look. Y/n shrinks back, out of his grasp. Stu’s quick to bring them into his own lap, one arm hung around them, the other cautiously wavering next to Billy. “You’re scaring them, man.”

Billy swats Stu’s hand away, letting out a low growl but face returning to normal. He looks down at Y/n, who’s shaking in Stu’s hold. “I’m not mad at you.” It’s not an apology...but it’s something and it works for his little. They make grabby hands at him.

“I-is okay, Bubba!” They reply, instantly brightening when he responds to their hand gestures, by leaning closer to his boyfriend and letting them hold onto one of his arms. “Why...why you look so scary, though?” They ask, tiredly rubbing at their eyes.

“Upset someone would harm you.”

They seem content with that reply, but don’t respond.

“We’ll take care of them,” Stu grins at them.

Billy’s back to his old self by glaring at him, not so gently smacking his boyfriend’s head in response. They tried not to mention their ghostface activities to Y/n- as they didn’t want to scare them in their little space, more than they already had- but there’d be a few more murders popping up in the news soon.

“We should watch a movie,” Stu suggests.

Billy raises his brow at him, then gives a pleasant look to Y/n- “Is that what you want?”

They shake their head against the boys, “ Muh-maybe nes’ time, daddy. Jus’ wanna cuddle with you an’ Bubba.”

Though it wasn’t what he had hoped to do, he seems pleased by the answer, nonetheless.

“Let’s get you into your pajamas though,” Billy says, cautiously pulling away.

“Jammies!” They shout in an excited glee. Stu chuckles at their antics, and they giggle along with him.

“I’ll get them set up!” While Stu goes to pick Y/n off the bed, Billy presses a rough smooch to his blond companion’s cheek. As almost a sign of gratitude.

Stu helps them get ready- picking out which clothes they need, holding on to their stuffed bear as they pull on a big, old graphic tee from one of the boys. A more mild mannered one, no blood, no guts. No knives or axes. Just a character portrait, shrouded in shadows. He also lets them go potty. While Billy makes sure everything is in order in their room. Their blankets, and their special comfort one, placed on the bed- the edges tucked safely under the mattress. Leaving the window open in case it gets too warm, but blinds shut and curtain closed so it doesn’t let any light in. As he finishes up, he sits and waits on the bed for his partners.

When Stu comes back into the room, holding onto Y/n’s hand, they’re giggling. Billy cocks an eyebrow at them, “We’re trying to get them to sleep, not hype them up.”

Stu gives a playful and exaggerated frown, sitting on the bed beside Billy, Y/n quickly climbing up and curling into his lap. “Aww, you’re no fun.”

“Whatever, Stu.” Billy shakes his head, then gives a small but bright smile to his little. “Hey, you ready for your nap?”

They nod up at him, giving him a tired smile. They hum, “Mm-hm.”

“You seem to be in a better mood, baby.” Billy comments.

“Uh-huh! Daddy says somethin’ th’tupid!” Their response earns an uproarious laugh.

“Can’t be having you say that, baby. It’s a bad word,” He teases.

Y/n pouts, and whines at the comment.

Billy gives a stern look, and they quiet down. “Buh-buh you say eh-it all the time!”

The boys give you small smiles, “Feelin’ sleepy, huh?”

They seem to be debating the question, softly humming a no and shaking their head against Stu’s chest. Finally, they reply with a hum, with a strong certainty, “Mm-hm.” It trails off, as Stu looks down to see them with their eyes closed, and sucking on their thumb.

Stu laughs, and Billy gets up to tuck Y/n in. Stu has to gently shake them awake and remove them from his lap. He tells them it’ll be more comfortable and they just hum in agreement- clearly exhausted from their long day. The boys struggle with each other to peel back the covers, laying them down in the middle. Stu finds his way beside them, back pressed against the pillows lining the wall, arms around them. They still hold onto their brown bear stuffie though.

Billy’s sure to close the door all the way, making sure Y/n can hear the click as he does. He turns off the light, and slowly climbs in next to his loves. Pulling the covers over them. He notices them sucking on their thumb again and he gently pulls it from their mouth- he and Stu would have to get something else for them at some other point. He presses a small kiss on their head, then Stu’s and whispers a gruff goodnight.

He’s about to close his eyes as Y/n lets out their final few words for the evening, “Nigh’ nigh’ Bubba an’ Da Da. Wuv you.” He hugs them as the three of them drift into a comfortable sleep.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

He Was a Sk8r Boi

Happiest of Birthdays and best wishes to one of my most beloved and darling friends on this earth, the fantastical @hailhailsatan ! May your sass never cease.

modern au - college student Jaskier - the Kaer Morons are all skater punks

tw: mild injury (scraped arm)

---

Jaskier took a seat on what remained of a crumbling stone bench and pulled his black-and-white composition notebook onto his lap, opening it to the closest blank page. He tugged his favorite pen out from its place of honor behind his ear and waited for inspiration to strike.

And waited.

And waited.

After half an hour of staring into space and getting absolutely nothing written, the frustrated college student stood from his seat and jammed his headphones into his ears. If nature wasn’t going to help finish this stupid poetry assignment then maybe he could find a person or two to observe for inspiration instead. Glancing around the otherwise empty benches and pathways of the public park, Jaskier sighed and shook his head. “Fuck this, I’ll try the other side.”

He pulled his MP3 player out from the pocket of his light autumn jacket and painstakingly scrolled through every song available until finally giving up and pressing the “Shuffle” button. As a heavy, angry guitar riff began to filter through his headphones and lighten the load of the world from his shoulders, Jaskier found himself approaching a half-hearted attempt at a skatepark.

There was one cement half-pipe to his left and a few rails and quarter-pipes scattered around the vicinity, bolted into the ground in a seemingly random pattern. Several oddly shaped cement bowls were sunk into the earth, obviously made to work like ramps but with a larger and less predictable surface area.

There were only three skaters enjoying the park on this particularly grey afternoon, zipping back and forth from one piece of equipment to the next like emo hummingbirds. Jaskier took out his headphones again as he made his way to a nearby bench - wood this time - and casually sat himself down. The skater dudes were yelling back and forth to each other as they swanned over and around the equipment on their boards, mostly insults from what the student could hear.

The loudest of the three had springy orange hair that he wore pulled back into a small, messy half-bun at the top of his head. The rest fell down against the back of his neck in an equally messy sheet, reaching nearly all the way to his shoulders but not quite touching them. He was wearing a bright red t-shirt with a catchphrase that Jaskier couldn’t read and plain denim jeans.

“What the fuck are you doing, Eskel?” he laughed, pointing to the tallest of the group and pulling a face.

“Shut up, Bert,” the brunette shouted back at the redhead, doing a quick kick-flip over the far end of a metal railing. “You can’t skate for shit.”

“I’m better than you!”

The third member of their little gang was the quietest so far and, in Jaskier’s personal opinion, also the prettiest. He had a mass of long white hair that fell all the way to the bottom of his shoulder blades, pointed and stiff in a way that meant it had been straightened and sprayed into submission. The silvery strands were being held out of the stranger’s eyes by a baggy black beanie and Jaskier desperately wanted to know whether or not that hair color was natural (though he heavily suspected that it was not).

The white-haired guy was also the most talented of the three gathered skaters, flying from one end of the half-pipe to the other and landing a few flips in between as if risking his life was as simple as breathing. He wore no knee pads over his ripped black skinny jeans and no elbow pads either; Jaskier noted with a little zing through his nervous system that the skater’s arms were muscled like a Greek statue’s and equally pale.

He was fucking hot.

“Geralt, do a three-sixty!” the redhead jeered, chucking something at the pretty one.

“I can’t land one yet and you know it,” the white-haired guy, Geralt apparently, replied. His voice was low and sonorous and Jaskier nearly fell off his bench in surprise. The student hadn’t realized how far forward he had been leaning in order to listen to their conversation and he scooted back again with a self-conscious little blush. In the distance, Geralt continued. “Why don’t you get up here and try it yourself, asshole?”

“I just fucking might, White Wolf,” Lambert huffed, turning his board back toward the half-pipe and picking up speed. The dark-haired one, Eskel, caught Jaskier’s eye from across the park; the student blushed an even darker shade of red and looked down at his lap to avoid any sort of confrontation. If any of these guys wanted to start a fight with him, Jaskier would surely lose.

By the time the anxious student worked up the nerve to look at them again, Lambert had already climbed to the top of the half-pipe and taken a defensive stance. His eyebrows were furrowed and his arms were crossed over his chest in a projection of almost childish anger. As Geralt came up the cement incline, Lambert lashed out with his foot and kicked the other man’s board out from beneath his feet.

Eskel gave a wordless cry of alarm.

Geralt wavered in the air for a moment - cartoonishly, Jaskier thought, almost like Wile E. Coyote - before plunging to the pavement and rolling limply down the inside of the half-pipe. Eskel chucked a rock at the redhead and started screaming, “Fuck off, dude! You could have cracked his fucking skull! You could have killed Geralt, you absolute cock-toboggan!”

“Fuck! Shit, I didn't-,” Lambert fell on his butt and slid down the ramp to Geralt’s side, kneeling over him with concern written all over his face. “Are you alright, man!?”

Jaskier couldn’t hear if Geralt replied or not, but he suddenly remembered the first-aid kit sitting right there in his bag. Jaskier was a total klutz and tried to keep a handful of bandages and a tube of disinfectant on him at all times just in case he ever needed them. Thank goodness they would be able to come in handy, and for a far nobler purpose than patching up yet another one of his table-smacked knees.

Without thinking any further ahead, Jaskier grabbed the strap of his bag and took off running towards the site of the accident.

“Hey!” he shouted, coming to a stop a few feet away. “I have - uh, I have a first-aid kit if you want to use it.”

“Cool, thanks,” Eskel said, glancing over his shoulder with a curt nod. “Come on over, we don’t bite. Well, I don’t.”

“Dude, I’m so sorry,” Lambert apologized to Geralt once again. When Jaskier glanced over at him, the redhead looked legitimately upset and guilty. Geralt looked up at the newcomer from the pavement, his silver hair spread out around him in mimicry of a halo - the black beanie was lying a few feet away, forgotten or ignored.

Up close like this, the stranger stole the breath out of Jaskier’s very lungs. The man's eyes… His fucking eyes were a gorgeous molten gold in the late afternoon sun, sparking and shining like gemstones. Holding Geralt’s gaze made Jaskier feel as if his very soul was catching fire.

“Do you need a band-aid?” Jaskier asked rather stupidly, holding out the little cardboard box. Geralt nodded stoically.

“I think I scraped my arm.”

“Let me help,” Jaskier said. The student knelt beside Geralt and set the box of band-aids down. He flung open the kit and retrieved some ‘pain-free’ disinfectant, then returned to the box of bandages in search of one without a Disney princess on it. “Do you guys always do this without wearing any protective gear?”

“I’ve got a helmet,” Geralt said. He pointed towards three mismatched backpacks piled near the edge of the pavement; a bright red helmet with several semi-familiar logos stuck to it sat atop one of them.

“It’s very useful over there, keeping your backpack from cracking its skull open,” Jaskier chastised lightly, trying to keep his nerves in check. He was feeling oddly protective of a guy he’d never even met before and it was very fucking weird.

“Sorry,” Geralt shrugged. He was still laying on his back, his topaz eyes flickering between Jaskier’s hands and face. The student applied a thin layer of medical cream to the shallow scrape with shaking fingers and then wiped the remaining goo on his shirt, uncaring of the damage it may have done. He bandaged the minor wound quickly and leaned back, glancing between Lambert and Eskel as if just noticing their presence on either side of Geralt's head.

“Thanks,” Eskel grinned, holding out his hand. “I’m Eskel.”

“Jaskier,” Jaskier replied shyly. “And the loud one is Lambert, right?”

Geralt chuckled from his place on the ground and Jaskier’s heart seized painfully in his chest. What a laugh, ye gods. “Yeah, that’s Lambert. I’m Geralt.”

“Nice to meet you, Geralt,” Jaskier could practically taste the name as it melted across his tongue. “Well, not the nicest way to meet you, but I’m glad I met you all the same. Anyway.”

He stood up with a little grimace and took a step back.

“Where are you going?” Eskel asked. “You came to Geralt’s rescue so I think that means he owes you like, at least an ice cream, or something.”

“Yeah,” Lambert piped up. He smirked at the man on the ground and then turned back to Jaskier, mischief clear in his expression, “Let him take you to get an ice cream.”

“I’m lactose intolerant,” Jaskier squeaked. Then he realized he’d sounded rude and held up his hands as if offering surrender (surrender for what, he wasn't exactly sure), “Not that I wouldn’t like to hang out with you more but I’ve got an assignment due and I’m sure you’re very busy doing skater things and I-”

“Am I not good enough for you?” Geralt asked, finally sitting up. He straightened his arms out behind him and rested there, reclined comfortable, a god in his temple.

Jaskier shot the older man a half-annoyed look, beating back his anxiety with a stick. “I listen to Avril Lavigne. I know not to underestimate pretty skater punks.”

“Pretty?” Geralt raised his eyebrows. Jaskier hid his face behind his hands and turned on his heel.

“Anyway, nice meeting you!” Jaskier shouted, hoping they could hear even if he was facing the opposite direction. He took off toward the edge of the park at a brisk walk, verging on a jog. He needed to go hide behind a tree and cry. What the fuck!? He was terrible at flirting and now he’d gone and ruined his chances with the guy he’d… literally just met. Chill out, he told himself - just before a strong hand clamped down over his shoulder and stopped him in his tracks.

“So not ice cream,” Geralt said. Jaskier slowly turned back to face the mostly-stranger. His lip was caught fast between his teeth and Geralt lifted one large hand to gently thumb it free again. “Maybe a boarding lesson, instead? It would give me an excuse to put my hands around your waist and you could put yours on my shoulders.”

“Are you asking me on a date?” Jaskier asked. He fluttered his eyelashes and took half a step into Geralt's space.

The broad-shouldered punk smiled down at the Little Mermaid band-aid on his arm and then turned that smile to Jaskier. “Yeah.”

[sanghyukstattoos]

'Ambivalence'

Summary: You rest in Jinhwan's room at their dorm, trying to cool from the intensely prevailing summer heat and the enclosure of the heat rekindles gestures of like-wise affections

Genre: fluff-fluff; smut-smut

Characters: Kim Jinhwan x Reader

A/N: None of the images in the collage are mine, please refer to here for more; For SF9 writings, read here and for iKON, read here~~

You can't afford it, you think as the heat seeps into your skin, drying it till you can spread your limbs so wide, they do not come into a heated contact. The fading red sun in the west illuminates the miniature droplets that sheath your nearly-wet, lavished skin from basking in the glow of what little light is there and to that, you sigh contentedly. The room is shrouded in a hue of scarlet, yellow at it's centre as you wait for Jinhwan to come and turn the lights on. It's been long since Jinhwan's entered his room in their dorm, in which you are perched on his bed, lolling around.

You set your laptop down, letting it pat the heavy covers that Jinhwan has not yet removed. His heavy red curtains isolate the cool air (that you know is flowing outside) from entering inside. Humid is the back of your body from lying on an insulating comforter. You eye the lighter covers, taken out in a haste this morning when the two of you complained about the covers as you threw them off.

You think that you can afford now, gently shutting the door and leaving yourself in your undergarments. The edge of the bed is much cooler to the touch so you lean at the edge, desperate for the hiding bursts of wind to come inside. The lighter covers enshroud your body from the outside world; you are careful, just in case you freeze should anyone come in and are not able to cover in time. A rare burst pounds at your heart when Jinhwan chooses to come in. You relax when you see that it's just him and tell him to close the door.

When you are sure you hear the click, you instantly throw the covers off, a swoop of air rushes in until it settles flat beside you. Jinhwan's fingers begin to work at his top buttons but unprecedentedly, he stops when sees you. He can't comprehend how you lay there, almost bare, with only two thin sheets of material covering your body, perfect, in his thoughts.

Unconsciously, he finds it enticingly endearing that you are this comfortable around him when it's hardly been so long since you've started out as a pair. You straighten up, squaring your shoulders till they meet the board, pointedly staring at the screen when you are not concentrating, instead shifting your growing smile towards his adorably- wide, curiously-staring eyes. He believes that you are unaware of your wide-spread effect on him. That innocence arouses him.

He looks to the door he just entered through, trying to work out if he could complete what complex patterns occur before you sleep, over at his dorm. He wants to lay beside you, for your touchy hands to show him your affection, peacefully, for all night.

In the short steps he takes towards you, his eyes never leave yours, meeting your smile with a sweeter one, softly asking, ''You gonna sleep like that?''. Little flutters of giggles leave the haven of your chest at his question which leaves him thinking, hardly, when he hears them. You don't look at your laptop when you slide it off your torso. Requisitely, he wants to sit down but doesn't, instead hovering over the edge of the bed. You casually ask, ''You don't mind?''.

''Do you want the fan?'' he hums, hearing the light laughs of the evening appear. ''I would rather sleep like this anyways'' you murmur, peeking through your eyelashes at the man protectively leaning against the bed, eyes widely interested in what he is thinking, no background of information to them, just a simple question of what are you thinking? He nods, hums appreciatively, turns back and opens the closet to catch the rest of his clothes.

When he turns around, the light of the sun is gone which should leave you in darkness but the yellow lights above head reflect everything around the room in a glow. It truly comes back to Jinhwan then. His eyes widen as he stares at you, holding his clothes and standing in the middle of the room, frozen. You feel his eyes on your waist, his lower core is tightening, he further sees your gasping body and then for him, nothing is left to the imagination.

You shake him out of his temporary world he's seem to be engaged in, smiling as you tug him onto the bed, propping him next to you. ''I found something to watch.'' you say, beaming not because of what you just found out but because of the way he looks at you. He gleams, brushing away your hair, mildly interested in watching something now, at a time so important.

''I- that's good, we can watch it later.'', he hums, leaning on his elbows to give you a kiss, some more kisses to leave you giggling, squirming with the hotness of his breath that brushes your skin as he quickly switches spots. You stare up at him when he notices your wide pupils trace his expression or rather, his face, his eyes and lastly landing on his lips.

He's breathless, seeing the stunning look on your face, he gives you a final kiss before he's at the bathroom door. You pull him back when you ask, ''Jinani, will you be uncomfortable? If I sleep like this?''. You immediately receive a shake of disagreement, ''No, of course not.'' is said with finality. He tells you that he'll tell you when he comes back out, swiftly entering the bathroom. Of course you have noticed, you flash back to the earnest, detailed, scenario you were just graced with witnessing.

You hear the door click but not lock; to lock a door in this house would mean to turn the knob, not just simply close the door. Jinhwan leans all his weight on the counter, feeling his hardness press uncomfortably into his joggers due to his lack of underwear. You cautiously step onto the padded floor, eyeing both doors, biting your lip in curiosity at what could happen. He sighs in frustration at the situation you both are in, taking deep breaths as he stares at the mirror, unable to leave the place his feet have stuck too.

He's startled, snapping to the sound made by the twist of the door knob as you let the door fall open. He's in bewilderment, but the type that makes his member all the more visible, completely initiated by what he is seeing. He gulps as he takes in your eminent, nakedly visible form.

He wondered what he was going to do, given that the walls so thin meant that your sex would be disclosed by your neighbours but this time, safety is best left in the space only the two of you could fill.

He's breathless, tempted to pull you flush against him, which he does. But he's tempted to do more, asking as you wrap your arms around his neck, ''Can't- the guys are right outside.''. You hum, caressing his temple, ''It's okay, we already know what Yunhyeong is doing. It's a green light, not something that you should worry about.''.

You rest in his arms, body flushed against his, cores touching behind the closed bathroom door. His grasp on your waist turns into a grip, he's this close to stroking himself against you, the heat is spreading in his body, the most visible are his pink-tipped cheekbones. You chuckle, breathily heavily at the multiple, conflicted thoughts that you think about.

''The guys can come into the room at any time, you know how they are'' he says, whispering the last bit into a kiss he places on your bare neck. You look up at him, soothing his worries with those understanding eyes of yours, whispering into his ears that it's okay.

The timings coincide, like taking turns, he's gulping as you reassure him and the moment you speak the last syllable, his mind spins with dizziness. He grasps your buttocks, lovingly squeezes the flesh, burying himself in the crook of your neck. He rubs his hardness against your heated centre that wets the front of his pyjamas.

He's not preoccupied with the idea that anyone could call for him, it's barely evening but going to sleep would not be a viable option. He groans when you break away, your name falling from his lips as you take a step back.

He's holding your hand, looking at you in the same way that he'll cuddle you and tell you not to leave. You teasingly smile at him, opening the door and taking a step out. He's quick to walk out before you, crowding you against the bathroom door so that from either side- the balcony or the entrance, no one can see your naked body.

He knows what you want even if you haven't mentioned it. You gasp when you feel his fingers collect the sticky fluids from your tingling cunt, checking as he runs them over your entrance before he's withdrawing away and telling you to get in bed.

When he comes back, he calmly discards his clothes and gets into bed with you. He embraces you from behind, your back is to him, you face the moonlight since the sun has disappeared behind the smoke and buildings. It is the only light to illuminate your naked bodies, indicated by the curves of your bodies that daintily move under the covers.

Each touch is telling. His hand is on your waist, slowly caressing the flesh in his palm. Sensuous moans of his delight your ear, ticking the shell as warm breath fans it, accompanied with the rocking of his hips against yours.

He presses the small of your back so that your tummy touches the covers underneath, shifting so that he hovers over your frame, covering your entire body. You press your hips back as small but heavy moans escape your flushing arousal as you wait till he fills you up.

You are warm, he holds you from behind, entwining your hands in his. It makes you chuckle before he hits your sweet spot, he can then see the effect he has on you. It's exciting for him to see the expressions on your face, you currently appear dazed out to which he breathes heavily on the space between your arm and back.

He bites a small patch of skin, eliciting a strangled whimper that falls from your mouth in the heat of the moment, caused by the pain, a sting which builds onto the pleasure. You feel this sense of caution, not being able to continue till the end is one of them; at any time the members could knock, walk in, then what would you do?

But he couldn't help it, especially not with you. Your fingers tightly clutched the bedsheets, squeezing your eyes shut when you felt near, close to releasing all over him like the accidental splash of liquid on a glazed surface. Your soft moans that decorated his ears turned into high-pitched, pretty whimpers, like that of cats on a tree.

As the rhythm of his hips grew tired, he groaned into your ear, sending delectable vibrations of pleasure down your spine. He crossed his arm over your chest, groping the flesh, pulling your back hotly against his chest.

You choose this moment to tell him how good he is, the way he fills you up and the way you want him to fill you up; how much you want him and it blows his cheeks red, he's mumbling something into your back out of the instant shyness.

His pace once collected now speeds up. He grits his teeth, feeling the tingles in his head right before he does not still his motions in your sex. He pulls out his soft member and turns you over, kissing you hard on the lips. Little electric quivers stem from the way he's rubbing your clit, driving you over the edge. He feels your release coat his fingers when he probes your entrance, mewling at what he feels because his energy does not disappear away.

You've thought a lot today and exhaustion coats your temple as sweat as you lie in his arms, finding solace for him through the way you tug his soft tufts of hair. Your body is not ready as yet, it's rebooting and on it's way but Jinhwan hasn't read it, not as yet. You giggle and squirm in his grasp.

He holds your sides, palms just beneath your breasts, fondling the skin under his lips with a delicate sense of softness, he lingers every time he places a kiss. Now he knows. He knows how you are feeling. With the covers thrown off, he comes up and gently takes you into his arms, covering your body with his.

He coos at your sleepy self, your eyes that droop but you fight for them to stay open. The position you are in is horizontal, you can't help it. You start to feel tired but like him, you are not done. You crave more, feeling his defined torso, define and undefine as his breathing calms, heart regularly beating to the feeling of you in his arms.

This is when you take a better look at his tattoos, running your fingers over them. It turns his attention from you to the warmth of your fingertips, admiring the way you glance at each one, pulling out his other arm to take a good look at the ink there, tracing it till you meet the end. But it's a voyaging tattoo, perhaps it doesn't have an end.

You are looking at him in his entirety, soft moments of certain vulnerabilities that the two of you share make up the stiller, more significant moments after sex and time after is clouded with them.

You entwine your hands. He begins to mumble, placing a kiss on your neck. It's random, you intercept his next words by grasping his cheeks and pulling him in for a kiss. ''You don't want words, do you?'' he murmurs in between kisses. His words are quickly spoken, in one breath as he returns to grace your pretty lips with his, to not miss a single kiss.

''What'd you mean?'' you smile, asking inquisitively. You lie close, his hands wander your backside, dipping into the heat in between your legs, earning a twitch from you in his arms. It draws a chuckle from him, no words needing to explain how your yearning eyes correlate to the innocence he associates with you.

His coordination is developed as a dancer but when he's kissing you, when your mouths are hot against one another and tongues entwine, his hands are motionless. He's engrossed in tasting you, until he's so close that no more space is left between the two of you. He's willing to discard other senses, like the unbearable heat that should separate you two, it means that he gets to feel you, with him.

But not everyone gets what they want. When Jiwon shoves the door open and exasperatingly strides into the room, he pauses upon seeing the two of you. Your figures are huddled together despite the heat with a cover thrown over the both of you. It's hardly a split second of recognition before he makes a beeline for the exit, throwing himself on his bed in his room.

[whatareyousearchingfordean]

Happiness Continues

Part 11: The Delivery

Summary: Jensen and Y/n welcome their newest addition to this world.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 7.2K+

Warnings: Language, angst, descriptions of labor and birth

Author’s Note: Baby Ackles is finally ready to make their first appearance. If you have been following this story since the beginning, you may want to grab a tissue, there just might be some tears (happy tears tho). Also, I will preface this chapter by saying I have never been pregnant nor given birth so please don’t @ me with any inaccuracies, I tried my dudes. Special thanks to my loves for the constant undeserved support and my devoted beta @emoryhemsworth​ xoxo Alex

Catch up with the series masterlist and then check out Alexandra’s Library for more by yours truly!

The winter sun had long ago dipped underneath the horizon, the night bringing a new level of quiet to the residential corner where the birthing center was located. Inside birthing suite two, the only soft light came from the LED strips that followed the length of the walls at the base and ceiling. Currently, they were tuned low and blue, the light mixing with the neutral decor in a way that made her feel like she was underwater. 

Curled on her side in the queen-sized bed, Y/n watched out the window on the opposite wall. Through the sheer curtain, the center’s garden could be visualized. It expanded a few hundred yards until the treeline of the nearby forest began. In silence, she watched the water trickle from the stone fountain in the center. It had been turned off for the season, but the rain that had fallen earlier in the evening still clung to the piece, each drop falling in a slow rhythmic pattern. 

Y/n found it more soothing than what the fountain had looked like last summer when they had first toured the place. She assumed if she was laboring in spring or summer, walking the trails in the garden would be something she found herself doing, even late in the evening as it was currently. But that was a dream she had let go of as the temperature dropped. All she had now was the counting of each drop in between contractions. 

The instinct to hold her breath took over as the next contraction washed over her, the sharp inhale of breath alerting the dozing man next to her. Y/n closed her eyes and focused on taking deep breaths, trying to ground herself to the moment. Fingers pressed into her lower back, one on either side of her spine, applying counter-pressure to the contraction. 

“Harder,” her word was weak, even in the quiet room. The pressure increased instantly, helping her to focus back on breathing through the contraction. It felt like a lifetime later when the pain began to subside before eventually tapering off. The sheets shuffled in the dark behind her before she felt an arm wrap around her abdomen. 

“Where are you at?” Jensen’s voice broke into the room as he pulled her tight against his chest. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her gaze back on the fountain outside. “Trying to be anywhere but here.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?” 

“Birth our child?” she tried, unable to stop the smile from creeping up on her face. If there was one thing Y/n didn’t handle well, it was being in pain. She would put back up every wall that anyone had become successful in tearing down, choosing to stew in silence. It was a defense mechanism she had perfected long ago. Never let them see you sweat. Unfortunately, that also meant that she tended to get mean, keeping it all bottled up until she exploded like a shaken can of soda. She truly wished right then that she had a catheter in her back delivering the good meds to her lower body, but she had committed long ago to do this as naturally as possible, her comfort be damned. 

“As soon as they figure out how to do that, I’ve got you, babe,” Jensen chuckled behind her, close enough for her to feel his breath on her neck. She nodded in unfortunate understanding, her hand coming to rest atop her husband’s where it lay on her belly. 

“Actually, could you top off my water bottle?” Y/n spoke back up after a moment of content silence. 

“Of course. Ice?” He questioned, already climbing from the bed to grab her bottle on the nightstand near her. 

“Please,” she confirmed.

“Be back in a flash,” Jensen pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before leaving the room to get ice from the main kitchen in the birthing center. A sigh left her mouth as she pulled herself into a semi-sitting position on the bed and grabbed her phone from where it lay charging. There was a mix of messages in her notifications, all from friends and family with varying messages of encouragement. She appreciated the gesture but to be honest, what Y/n wanted more than anything was to not have all the attention on her. It was yet another symptom of being uncomfortable. Her solace lay in the simple fact that she was not expected to answer any of the messages she received, considering she was in labor and all. Forgetting why she even grabbed the device in the first place, Y/n noted the time and tossed it back on the nightstand. 

It was officially after midnight. Well, technically it was almost twelve-thirty which meant it was Jensen’s birthday. Y/n had found it funny when he had called his mother earlier to let her know that the baby was coming, Jensen had made his stupid joke only to have his face fall when Donna had laughed a little too hard. Her husband was caught up thinking about his mother and teasing the older woman that it didn’t even cross his brain what Y/n going to labor meant for him. Now, as she found herself nearly seven centimeters dilated as the clock turned into the new day, it seemed their baby would share its birthday with their father. 

Jensen came back then, breaking her out of her thoughts but unable to knock the warm smile from her face. He walked around to her side and perched on the edge of the bed, one leg tucked under him as he faced her. Y/n took a drink of the cool liquid, relishing in the calm it brought her. 

“What is that smile about?” He had an equally bright smile of his own, unable to contain it as he watched his wife. 

“Nothing just… happy birthday,” the pregnant woman shrugged in her seat, her eyes casting down to wear her hands now cradled her bump. 

“Yeah, it is,” he agreed, his heart feeling so whole when he thought about it that it felt as though it might burst from his ribcage. There was so much love for the woman in front of him, he didn’t know what to do with it. It scared him sometimes. It didn’t matter what was happening at the moment, but he could look at her and he would forget for a second that the world existed outside them and all he knew was that she made everything okay. His heart would skip a beat so fast he barely noticed and the urge to cry became overwhelming. Only this time, he refused to fight it, allowing a few tears to well up in his eyes. 

“What’s this about?” Y/n sat up, concern now etched into her features as she brought herself close enough to her husband that she could wipe away the single tear that had escaped down his cheek with her thumb. She had caught sight of it, of course, even in the low light of the room. In the few silent seconds that he sat there smiling, she felt warm under his stoic gaze, unsure of what was going on in that head of his. Jensen shook his head, his smile still not faltering. 

“I love you,” he said simply. 

“I love you, too,” Y/n agreed, her concern melting away and taking with it the crease in her brow. Her husband cradled her face in his hands, pulling her face up to press his lips to hers. He poured every emotion that was currently making him dizzy into that kiss, afraid that if he didn’t, she would never know. But she did know, and though Y/n didn’t need more than those three words, she couldn’t deny him the release he so evidently needed. The desperation seeped from his every pore as his lips brushed against hers, unwilling to part until the need for air overtook everything else. 

A gentle knock on the door snapped his brain back down to Earth. Jensen released his hold on her face, watching as it took her a second longer to open her eyes once they parted. He cleared his throat before calling out.

“Come in.”

Their midwife, Melek, snuck into the room, not making a sound as she closed the door behind her. She turned the lights up just a touch, giving the couple a warning beforehand. 

“Hey, I’m just back to check your progress,” she snatched a pair of gloves from their place in one of the drawers and came to the side of the bed Jensen was still perched on. He moved out of her way as Y/n scooted down the bed slightly. Melek asked Y/n how she was feeling as she went about her work. The midwife listened and nodded along to everything she explained. 

“Well, we are getting very close. Based on how you’ve progressed so far, this baby could be here in the next couple of hours. You are going to start feeling the urge to push soon, might feel like you have to poop, don’t ignore that or any other changes you notice.” Melek stood from the bed and tossed her gloves before washing her hands. She made a note on the whiteboard in the room before coming back over to the couple. 

“You are welcome to continue relaxing, whatever feels best. However, if you feel up to it, I would suggest taking a walk in the garden. I know it’s cold and late, but it will help to energize you before the big work starts.”

“Thank you. Is that safe?” Y/n was adjusting her nightgown back into place as she talked. 

“Yes, if you choose to take a walk, I would go now. No longer than twenty minutes outside and I will be back in another hour,” Their midwife confirmed. The couple nodded in acknowledgment of her words, offering her more words of ‘thanks’ as she exited the suite. 

“Well, what do you think, momma?” Jensen put his hands on his hips as he looked down at her. 

“Couldn’t hurt,” Y/n shrugged. She offered him an innocent smile. “Help me put on my shoes?” 

“Deal.”

****

A low groan emanated from her chest as she battled through her current contraction. Her hands were locked around Jensen’s neck as she rested her head on his shoulder. The actor was rocking her back and forth, once again applying counterpressure to her lower back.

“Oh god, I feel nauseous,” Y/n breathed out as the contraction subsided. She let up on the weight she had been putting on her husband.

“That’s normal though, right?”

“Yeah, I was just venting,” she let the air out of her lungs rush past her lips. “I don’t expect you to do anything about it.” Her words were clipped as they tumbled from her mouth before she could stop them. The laboring woman cringed as she felt her husband stiffen underneath her. The soda had popped. Her movements were hesitant as she raised her head to look at him, regret written across her face. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay, you are allowed to do whatever you want to me today.” The smile that graced his lips was tight, but she suspected it was more from the exhaustion than anything. She could see the heaviness in his eyes. 

“No, it’s not. Come on, yell at me. Tell me you don’t need that shit because you were just trying to be helpful,” she pleaded with him, the guilt heavy in her chest. 

“You want me to pick a fight with you while you are in labor?” Amusement was heavy in his words. 

“Yeah, please? I deserve it. You are being far too nice to me.”

“It’s not happening. Sorry, babe.” Y/n growled in frustration, causing her husband to throw his head back and laugh. 

The sound of yet another knock had her releasing her grip on her husband as she called the midwife in. It was time for the hourly check of her labor progression, a task that Y/n had grown a distinct distaste for. As the hours came and went and it felt like nothing was happening, it all just felt pointless. At this point, she was begging this kid to come out. 

Melek made quick work of the check, a smile on her face after when she pulled off her gloves. “Seems as though it’s time, momma. You are fully dilated. How are you feeling?” 

“Uh,” Y/n shared a look with her husband as their midwife headed over to the tub on the opposite side of the room and started the water. She gave a quick synopsis of what had happened in the last hour before asking, “Are we pushing now?” 

“We can start. Sounds like you’ve already had some urges to. Right now it’s about listening to your body and what it’s telling you. I’m going to grab the nurse while you get in the water.” Melek left the water running and the couple dumbstruck. 

“Okay, I guess this is happening,” Y/n scoffed, allowing her husband to help her from the bed. He stripped down to his boxer briefs while she slipped off the gown she was wearing, leaving her as naked as the day she was born. Jensen helped her into the tub and down to sit between his legs. As the water reached its max level, he stopped the tap and urged her to sit back against his chest. 

True to her word, Melek was back in no time with a nurse and everything else they would need. They flourished around the room, getting ready as yet another contraction hit. Y/n’s grip on her husband tightened, her mind focused on one thing now. Jensen was whispering in her ear, helping to guide her breaths. Y/n gave in to the urge to push, more than ready now to have this over with. The pattern was quick and repeated itself again, and then again, and again. 

The time clicked away on the clock on the far wall, each passing minute mocking the laboring woman as it turned over the hour. If she had thought she was exhausted before, it was nothing compared to how she felt now. Sweat dripped from her forehead, small tendrils of hair that had fallen from the bun on top of her head stuck to her flushed skin. She dropped her head onto her husband’s shoulder, soft pants passing her lips as she tried to relax before the next contraction hit. 

Only it didn’t take long, the pain returning before she even had time to think. The contraction had her doubling in on herself, concentrating on bearing down. Her scream originated low in her chest, the sound of it low as it echoed out in the room. Y/n knew that Melek was coaching her, but she couldn’t hear the words anymore, her body too far spent. 

“I can’t,” As the contraction dissipated, she threw her head back and hid her face in the crook of Jensen’s neck. 

“You can, Y/n. Your body was made to do this,” Melek encouraged, a hand on the poor woman’s shoulder. Y/n swatted it away as she let out another sob. 

“No, I can’t. I’m too tired,” her shoulders shook as she let it all out. Jensen turned and placed a kiss on her temple. 

“Honey, if anyone can do this it’s you,” he whispered in her ear. “I know you’re tired and that means you are ready to quit, but you can’t, not yet. Just think about holding our baby in your arms, you are so close.” 

Another sob shook through her as she indicated her disagreement with his words. She wanted to believe him, she wanted to believe him so badly it hurt but Y/n had never felt so defeated in her life. This was finally it and she couldn’t do it. 

“Look at me, Y/n.” He waited for her eyes to open and focus on him. “You can and you will. I’m right here, I’ve got you. You are gonna push this baby out and we are gonna love it so much all this will be a distant memory. Nothing else will matter but the life we created.” 

“You drive a hard bargain,” she hiccuped out with a laugh. Jensen chuckled along with her, offering another kiss to her temple. They nodded at each other, silent words being passed between them just before the next contraction hit. This time she put all her energy behind it, refusing now to be defeated. It was far from easy, but only she could do it now. 

She couldn’t be sure how many contractions later it happened, the only thing she was sure of was the instant relief that washed over her body. Her eyes snapped open as Melek pulled her gook covered baby from the warm water of the tub, holding up its long body so both her and Jensen could see. 

“It’s a boy!” Melek announced, placing the infant against Y/n’s bare chest. It all happened in a second and Y/n was holding her son in her arms. Jensen was peppering her face with kisses and muttering soft praises, his arms wrapped around her and helping the nurse wipe the baby clean. More sobs racked her body as soft cries came from the tiny body in her arms. Everything felt like too much like her whole being was vibrating on some new frequency she didn’t yet understand. It was invigorating and terrifying at the same time. 

“I told you!” Y/n turned to look at her husband, the sobs that had been shaking through her now intermixed with soft laughter.

“Yeah, you did, babe. I’ll promise to never question you again,” the smile on his face grew as soon as he realized what she was talking about. The giggles coming from his wife seemed to seep into him and soon he was laughing along with her. 

Y/n feigned a scoff, chuckles still seeping past her lips and a beautiful smile on her lips. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Ackles.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

****

It took a while before anyone was able to pry her son from her arms and even then, she refused to give up to anyone besides Jensen. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the nurse or midwife, she just felt that if she gave him up, the feeling in her chest would go with him. Only the soft voice of her husband was able to coax her out of the bubble she had wrapped herself into. Reluctantly, she handed the infant off to her husband who passed him on to be weighed and measured. 

The nurse was then able to help her out of the tub and into the shower, washing away the remnants of her son’s birth from her body. In that short amount of time, she ached to hold her son again. Her mind couldn’t focus on anything besides him, and it pissed her off. She didn’t feel in control of herself, consumed by the maternal instincts now flooding her neurons. 

When she emerged from the bathroom, Jensen was propped up against the headboard, his legs casually crossed at the ankle in front of him. Discarded still at the foot of the bed was his shirt he had peeled away before they had gotten into the tub, but he had slipped his Nike joggers back on his tall frame. His large hands dwarfed their son, who was only in a diaper, where Jensen held him against his chest. The couple shared a smile before she made her way over to him, climbing gingerly into the bed next to her husband and son. Y/n curled herself into his side as the nurse left them to be alone. 

“Nine pounds and seven ounces, twenty-one inches long,” Jensen smirked down at the sleeping infant. Y/n choked out a breath, her jaw dropping open in the process. 

“Jesus, I’m never gonna be the same,” she blew out a breath. The tired woman laid her head against her husband’s shoulder, her eyes never leaving her sleeping child. She could feel her husband shaking softly with laughter. Mostly, she was just as amused as him, but on the other hand, she wasn’t kidding. 

As she settled into her spot, their son began to stir, his face scrunching into a frown. Jensen moved quickly, pulling the kid away and offering him to his mother. 

“What, the first time he even indicates he might cry and you immediately hand him over to me?” Y/n leans away from her husband, a confused frown etched into her features. 

“Uh, yeah, I don’t have the goods,” the Texan flicked his eyes down at her chest before looking back at her face. He had one eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face. 

“Okay, how do you even know he’s hungry? Maybe he needs to be changed?” 

“He’s fresh out of the womb and hasn’t eaten anything, you do the math,” Jensen held him out again. Y/n rolled her eyes for effect when the truth was she couldn’t wait to get her hands on that baby again. 

“Well go get the midwife, I don’t know what I’m doing here,” Y/n tilted her head towards the door. She had one hand cradling the infant and her other was working to pull her gown away from her chest. 

“Right,” he bounded from the bed, grabbing his shirt as he went and pulling it over his head. The door barely had time to shut behind him before he was returning, Melek in tow. The midwife was more than helpful, guiding Y/n and her baby through their first feeding. It took them a few tries before it seemed like they finally got the hang of it. Melek left them again to the peace of the early morning. 

The sun had yet to breach the horizon but that didn’t stop the birds from putting on a show outside. Jensen had climbed back into bed with his family, situating himself as close as possible to his wife. It gave him the best vantage to watch the miracle they had created. He rested his hand on the baby’s head, rubbing his thumb across the infant’s hair. 

Y/n didn’t even bother averting her gaze as her husband nestled into her side. She was far too transfixed on her son. Every emotion felt magnified a thousand times since she gave birth, to the point where she felt like she might burst. It was hard to sort through them, the exhaustion of her body not helping at all. Now, as she stared down at the precious life she and Jensen had created, the only thing she felt was calm. His eyes were closed as he fed, the soft gurgles and breaths he let out the only noise in the suite. 

“He’s perfect,” she mumbled to no one in particular, she just felt it needed to be said. 

“He really is,” Jensen agreed. “I had no doubt, which is why I got you this.” Y/n tore her eyes away then as Jensen procured a long velvet case from behind him. He offered the object to Y/n who took it with her free hand. 

“What is this? It’s your birthday today, not mine,” she tried arguing.

“Just open it, you dork. Besides, you’ve already given me the best gift I could ever have,” Jensen urged her to open it. His eagerness washed off him as he smiled at her, his hand back on his son’s head. 

Being careful to not jostle the child eating in her arms, Y/n used both hands to flip open the case. Laying against a dark cushion inside was a gold bracelet with a row of seven round stones in the center. She caught the card that was placed inside when it tried to fall away, reading the small paragraph. 

‘Customised with seven beautifully crafted semi-precious stones amidst a string of shimmering beads. Each stone is traditionally associated with various characteristics that also typify those born in that particular month – The March birthstone is Aquamarine, which has a pale blue appearance and symbolizes honesty, loyalty, and happiness.’

The tears fell from her eyes as she read, threatening to turn into full-blown sobs. Y/n sniffed as her emotions continued to get the better of her, using the end of the blanket to wipe the wetness from her cheeks. Happiness. There wasn’t anything she could think of better to describe how she was feeling. It was indescribable happiness that had begun on that New Year’s Eve two years ago and continues through the life she now held in her arms. It was happiness she feared she would never get to experience, and yet, here she was. 

“Jay, this is beautiful. But how-”

“I ordered one for February too, can’t be too careful,” he answered before she could ask, earning a giggle from his wife. “You really like it?” 

“Honey, I love it. I can’t imagine a more perfect gift.”

“Here,” Jensen pushed away from the headboard and offered his hand to take the case from her. She handed it back to him, allowing him to take the delicate bracelet from its setting. He urged her to raise her arm, making quick work of clasping the piece of jewelry around her right wrist. “There, perfect.”

“Perfect,” she agreed. 

****

The midwife cleared Y/n and the baby to go home just before noon that day. They had spent less than twenty-four hours in the birthing center, but as she dressed her son to go home she couldn’t help but feel like she was going to miss it. That stupid little room now held so much meaning to her, and she hated it. The exhaustion and hormones were making her stupidly sentimental. 

As they turned into their driveway, Jensen was forced to pull their SUV into the yard since the entirety of their driveway was filled with cars. He hopped out of the driver’s seat to help Y/n from the car before grabbing the car seat with their son inside. Her husband allowed her to waddle along in front of him, a smirk on his lips when she looked over her shoulder before opening the gate to their home. 

Across the stone courtyard, she could see their family all huddled in front of the expansive window that saw into their living room. Everyone waved excitedly as the new family made their way towards the house. Y/n took in the faces of her and Jensen’s parents, along with her brothers and their families. Jensen’s siblings were too far out to make it right now, but even still Y/n was surprised to see her brothers. Donna and Alan had come down as soon as they called to let them know Y/n was in labor, staying in their guestroom for the coming week to help the new parents adjust. She expected her parents too, even though they couldn’t stay longer than the night, rooming in Jared’s guesthouse and leaving in the morning. But yeah, her brothers were a surprise. 

The family was greeted and the door, an array of excited faces welcoming them home. Someone had hung a ‘congratulations’ banner, with a matching ‘happy birthday’ one just below it. Everyone wrapped the new mother up in a tight embrace before passing her along to the next family member while the kids swarmed Jensen and the baby. It took quite some convincing from the parents to quiet down the little ones, all excited to meet their new cousin and forgetting that they needed to chill out as he was sleeping currently. 

“Alright,” Jared’s voice broke above the commotion of multiple conversations. “As the godfather and the whole reason this child even exists, I call dibs on holding him first!” He looked to his sister, his brows high on his forehead as he waited for her answer. 

“You all are going to get a turn, I don’t care who goes first. But stop saying you are the reason he exists, it’s weird… ” She waved him on before adding, “and don’t forget the sanitizer.”

Jensen lifted the car seat to the island as Jared bounced over to him. He literally was bouncing on the balls of his feet, his sister rolling her eyes as she followed behind him. The giant of a man moved delicately as he pulled the sleeping infant from the car seat. If she had thought her son looked small in her husband’s arms, it had nothing on how he looked compared to Jared. He took the newborn over to sit on the couch, all the cousin’s swarming him in no time. 

“You need anything?” Jensen put his hand on her lower back to bring her attention from their family to him. 

“A water?” She suggested as she looked over to him, knowing she would need it sooner rather than later. He nodded and turned to grab a water bottle for her. A soft ‘oh’ had her turning her head back towards her husband. Jensen stepped out of the way to show her their freezer full of Tupperware of different foods. 

“We all made a few things for the freezer. I know Donna is staying with you for a little while, but once she is gone, you’ll thank me,” Y/n’s mother appeared next to her. 

“Thanks, mom,” Once again she found herself fighting back the tears as she pulled her mother into a tight embrace. Sharon ran her hands up and down her daughter’s back as the younger woman refused to let go. Half of it was not wanting to let go, the other half was hiding her tears in the black sweater her mother wore. When she finally relented, Jensen was standing there with a tissue. He offered it to his wife who took it with a sheepish smile before he also hugged his mother-in-law. 

The group in the kitchen returned to the living room where the rest of the family was, fussing over the baby. Jensen sat down in his chair near the fireplace that was angled to where the rest of the family was on or near the couch. He grabbed his wife’s wrist and pulled down along with him, situating her into his lap. The new mother fidgeted in her seat, struggling to get comfortable. 

“Would you stop that?” Jensen’s voice was low in her ear as he squeezed her legs in a vain attempt to hold her still. 

“I-,” She shifted again with a soft sigh before turning to whisper in his ear. “I’m very sore down there, and your legs are not the most comfortable right now.” His lips formed a thin line as he nodded. Before she could say anything else, he lifted and moved them both so she was situated in between him and the side of the chair, effectively taking the pressure off of her sensitive area. 

“Better?” 

“God yes,” she huffed before snuggling into his side. The couple watched content as their family traded their son around. The looks of amazement from the kids and the near tears from the adults filled her heart more than she imagined it could have ever been before. Just when she thought it was full, it somehow found room for more love and happiness. 

“So, have you two decided on a name yet?” Sharon spoke up as he was passed to her. The older woman was gently bouncing on her feet, her husband peering over her shoulder. 

The new parents shared a look, unsure which of them should answer the question to the information they had filled out in his birth certificate just before leaving for home. Everyone had been asking since they got the news he was officially here, though the couple didn’t have an answer as they struggled to come up with something. Jensen tilted his head to her, signaling that she should answer. 

“Yes, after an agonizing two hours of staring at him and willing him to tell us what his name should be, we finally picked one,” Y/n explained, her husband chuckling next to her at the memory of her talking to him as he slept. “His name is Ezra Jay Ackles.” 

There were murmured compliments and agreements that the name more than fit the little bundle of joy they had just welcomed into their family. Sharon passed Ezra on to his other grandmother, the woman giddy as she took over baby holding duty. Ezra had woken up by now, his dark eyes searching and unsure of the commotion around him, but he had yet to fuss. 

“Did you go with Jay because he looks just like Jensen?” she questioned, not taking her eyes off the infant in her arms. 

“Ugh don’t remind me,” Y/n huffed, her face scrunched up at her mother-in-law’s words. 

“Hey, I thought you liked the way I looked,” Jensen pouted next to her, but she could see the twinkle in his eye. 

“That’s not the point. It would be just my luck that I carried him for nine months, was in labor for over eighteen hours while also needing to feed him every two hours, for him to look just like his dad. Where’s the justice in that?” Y/n frowned as her family laughed at her confession. 

“Welcome to my world,” Gen piped up. “All of them, little clones of their dad.” The Padalecki women all nodded in agreement to that sentiment, much to the annoyance of their husbands. 

“Hey, the Padalecki genes are strong, we can’t help it,” Jared protested, making Jensen throw his head back in laughter. 

“If that’s true then I guess the Ackles genes are even stronger,” the new father countered, earning a shove from his wife. 

“Alright you two, put the rulers away,” her joke got the rest of the room cackling at the boys’ expense. That satisfied the woman more than she would ever admit. 

Not long after the reveal of their baby’s name, the family began to pack things up and head out. It had been a busy and tiring twenty-four hours for the new little family, and their loved ones headed out to give them some peace. Once everyone was gone, Alan offered to go to the store and grab something to whip up for dinner, leaving just Donna with the new parents. 

“Y/n, honey, why don’t you go lay down. I know you haven’t really slept since yesterday,” Donna piped up, noting how the woman’s eyes were getting heavy. She was curled up on the couch next to her husband who was holding their son once again. Donna was picking up the mess left by the family. 

“Mmm that sounds good but he will have to feed soon, I should just stay here,” Y/n answered with a hum. She couldn’t deny, a nap sounded wonderful but everything was about Ezra and his needs now. 

“Couldn’t we just give him a bottle?” Jensen asked, earning a shake of the head from both of the women in the room. 

“No, if you guys are committed to breastfeeding, she’s got to get her milk supply in and the best way to do that is for him to feed. Also, there is nipple confusion,” Donna stated matter of fact with Y/n nodding along the whole time. 

“Nipple confusion?” Jensen looked to his wife, confusion written all over his face. The term sounded familiar to the actor, but he couldn’t for the life of him come up with a definition. 

“It means that Ezra could get confused between the bottle and the breast, and the concern is that he would prefer the bottle,” Y/n explained, her hand absentmindedly running along her son’s cheek.

Jensen nodded in understanding and shrugged, “Not if he’s my son.” 

The new mother reared back in confusion. “Why?” was the only thing Y/n could say after she and Donna looked at him with equal disgust and disappointment. Jensen grimaced under their looks before she continued. “Your mother is in the room.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Mom, I don’t know why I said it,” the look of shame on his face morphed into fear as he prepared for a scolding, but that moment never came. Instead, Donna stood and walked over to where they were seated. 

“Alright, give me the kid,” the older Mrs. Ackles reached out for her grandson. Jensen gave him up without question. “Both of you need to sleep. Don’t worry, I will come and get you if he gets hungry.” 

“It’s best not to argue with her when she makes that face,” Jensen muttered under his breath, but not so quiet that his mother didn’t hear him. She raised her brow at him, an action that was remarkably similar to the one Jensen often emulated. 

“I’ll take your word for it,” Y/n agreed, allowing her husband to help her to her feet. Jensen gave his mom a quick peck on the cheek in passing as he pulled his wife along with him to their bedroom. 

Inside the curtains were still drawn from when they had left yesterday, only a small sliver of light peeking into the room from its edges. Neither of them bothered with changing, knowing it was too much work for now. Instead, Jensen just turned down the bed, allowing them to slip under the cool covers. He settled into the pillows, lifting his arm to invite her back to his side. Of course, she obliged, snuggling into his chest with one hand placed where she could feel the steady beat of his heart under her fingertips. 

Jensen wrapped his arm around her, his hand resting against her arm, rubbing soft circles against her skin. He stared up at the ceiling in the semi-dark room, watching the spinning blades of their ceiling fan make countless revolutions. His mind was racing, all the emotions of the last day starting to get to him now that he had nothing else to focus on. 

Y/n was silent as well, but he knew she hadn’t fallen asleep yet, her body still too tense to have fully succumbed to the exhaustion. If he wanted to ever get some shut-eye, he knew he had to get some things off his chest. He needed to let go. 

“You know what this reminds me of?” There was a gruff undertone to his voice, yet it still managed to be soft as he sought to not startle his wife. She hummed in response, letting him know she was listening. “Our first night together. Well, after… everything.” 

“How so?” Y/n shifted so she could have a better view of her husband who now had her full attention. 

“I couldn’t sleep then either. Too much going on in my head,” Jensen took a deep breath, his eyes still on the ceiling as he continued. “I kind of have this tendency to push all my emotions to the side to deal with them another time, even if that other time never comes, but that night, I just… I couldn’t get myself to do it. As I stared down at you, sleeping against my chest with that stupid little content smile on your face, I realized that you were worth all of it, every emotion: the fear, the anxiety, and even the guilt; they were all worth feeling for you.”

The crease in her brow deepened as her husband confessed to her what he went through that night. Jensen looked down at her then, a smile on his face and tears once again pooling in his eyes. He brought up his hand to caress her cheek before continuing. 

“I never believed in love at first sight, hell, I still don’t, because even through all of that fear and anxiety what I felt most of all was love, and that didn’t happen overnight. It happened in the weeks we had spent in the makeup trailer, in the way you trusted me with the things you wouldn’t even tell your brother, and in your sarcastic comebacks that never failed to surprise me. I spent weeks falling in love with you and didn’t even realize it.”

“The only thing I could do was watch you sleep, so irrevocably in love with you that I was scared if I pushed away those bad feelings… if I didn’t consider every possible thing that could wrong from that moment on, that I would lose the best thing in my life now, so that’s what I did, just watched you sleep and go over every possible scenario my mind could come up with of how us being together could go wrong. I know...” He had to stop again, needing a moment to take a shuddering breath. “I know that day when I told you we needed a break hurt you and made you question everything I ever said to you and sure we’re past it now, but I really need you to know that when I came to you that next morning and asked you to go on one date with me, I didn’t make that decision lightly. I had decided before you even tried to sneak out of the guesthouse that you were worth everything.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” After he was silent for a moment, she couldn’t bear it any longer. 

“Because I… I feel so much right now that I can’t shut it out. The love I feel for you and our son right now, I want to stay in that feeling forever. Even if it means facing every fear or anxiety over making sure you both are safe and happy and thriving. I just had to let you know that you two are my whole world now and I will spend the rest of my life never letting you forget it,” Jensen confessed, allowing the tears that he had been biting back now flow freely. Deep down he knew it was what he needed, that release of every emotion before he could truly relax. Just like she also knew that the time for words was over.

“Thank you for telling me that,” she nuzzled back into his side, pressing her cheek against his chest to listen to his heart again. Y/n knew it wasn’t easy for her husband to admit all of that to her. Those true moments where he exposed himself fully to her were rare. Not that she minded, Y/n didn’t need him to cut out his heart and serve it on a silver platter. Her husband was a man of action. He showed her all she needed to know in every first cup of coffee he brings her in the mornings or running her a bath when she needs time alone. Marriage is as much about the little things as it is about any grand declaration. If you asked Y/n, she would take the soft smiles and lingering touches over a grand speech any day, but this was nice too. 

Part 12: Home

Forevers: @22sarah08​ @akshi8278​ @anathewierdo​ @atc74​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @briagallen​ @callmekda​ @dawnie1988​ @deandreamernp​ @deanwanddamons​ @ellewritesfix05​ @emoryhemsworth​ @foxyjwls007​ @hobby27​ @janicho88​ @jensengirl83​ @katehuntington​ @lyarr24​ @malfoysqueen14​ @miss-nerd95​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @msmarvelouswinchester​ @polina-93​​ @sleepylunarwolf​ @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan​ @smol-and-grumpy​ @suckmyapplejacks​ @superfanficnatural​ @supraveng​ @talesmaniac89​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @tranquility-or-chaos​​ @waywardbeanie​ @winchest09​

Happiness Continues: @afangirlreacts​ @anaelsbrunette​ @ashleyrose0117 @austin-winchester67​ @cno92​ @deanbowlegsackles​ @deangirl93​ @deans-baby-momma​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @dvnmbabe​ @fangirl199813 @spndestiellover​ @hoboal87​ @itsdesiree86​ @jbsgirl4eber11 @let-me-luve-you​ @linki-locks11​ @lunarmoon8​ @neverland14353​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @parinarain​ @rebeccathefangirl​ @rebelemilu​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @spnfamily-j2​ @squirrelnotsam​ @stoneyggirl​ @supernatural3002​ @traceyaudette​ @winchestergirl82​ @winqhster​ @zpandaqueen​

[cadykeus-clay]

remember a few days ago when i said i was writing a collection of mismatched scenes of all the times that I think jester and caleb should have just kissed on the mouth? hehe :)

I.

“Caleb, can you hear through it?” she’s yelling, head tilting and eyes squinting as she looks at the one-way glass he’s just apparated in the middle of the hall. She leans in, scrunching her nose and sticking out her tongue a little as she detectives. “Can we come into it?”

He grins, he can’t help himself. “Only you.”

“Do we just hit the side of it or -” 

Her fingertips press through the barrier, disrupting the near-transparent bubble with a ripple and he reaches out his hand for hers, guides her in. Her mouth makes the cutest little oh! shape as she passes through and she can see what he’s seeing. 

“Caleb. This is so COOL!”

The grin hasn’t dropped from her face, and it spreads infectiously across his. 

“I’ve been working on this for weeks,” he says, smacking his legs with triumphant fists. 

Her grin gets even wider, sharing in that joy. A few more silent moments pass, as she takes it in with awe. 

“So, can anyone come in, or like, only people you like, or … ?”

He thinks for a moment, grins slyly. He sticks a finger out, just barely missing her nose. “You can come in.”

She leans towards him, returning the affection he seems to be offering. She gets close to his face, on purpose. She likes making him blush. “That means you like me.”

Blush he does. It’d be near impossible not to - they’re alone and unseen together, and she’s leaning towards him, her grin pushing up the freckles on her cheeks he’d love to try and count. And he’s tired, exhausted, barely functional. He’s got no strength left to carry all the layers he usually hides himself behind, but it’s alright, it’s only Jester looking anyways. 

She hasn’t pulled her face back yet, like she’s waiting for him to do something. Tease. 

Even after everything they’ve both seen these past few days, fear seems gone for just a second. They’re safe inside their shell, and no one’s watching. It would be so easy to just lean down, steal a moment to remind her that he cares, remind her that he’ll always care, remind her that he did this to keep her safe, take her mind off why. 

It would be so easy ...

******

II. 

“Can we like. Stick things through the bubble?”

“Uh. Ja, you can put your weapons through it, but no magic can come in or out. But you can leave and come back any time you want.”

“Okay. Just checking.”

She tries to hide the wince in her face as she nods a bit too heartily, jostling the half-healed slash across her chest left from panther-like claws. He notices. She notices him noticing, notices the way his brow furrows even deeper. 

“But, please. No walkabouts when we are sleeping, okay?” 

He looks up at her through those drawn-together brows when he says it, pleading more than he really needs to. She learned that lesson. But it’s still sweet to see how much he cares. 

He’s been caring a lot lately, come to think of it. Chatting with her on the boat. Checking in. Making sexy jokes when they’re supposed to be stealthing. Doing a very bad job of hiding his attempts to make sure she laughed at it.

“I’ll stay right here. I promise.” She settles back onto her hands, hoping it’ll bring a little relief to the pain starting to spark across her ribs.

“Well. That’s good enough for me.”

And he pauses for a second, just a second, like he’s giving her an invitation to double down on that promise, make sure he knows she knows someone cares, and who someone is, and that someone else cares back.

It would be so easy … 

******

III.

When she was little and read a lot of fairy tales, she’d often think about kissing a beautiful boy in a beautiful room full of paintings and tapestries and a billion things on shelves that glittered just to be pretty, and the light would somehow be reflecting off all of them at once, and his shirt would be off for reasons, and it would be glorious.

The tunnel they're in can’t really constitute as a room, but the way the crystals shimmer even in the dim glow of the Dancing Lights, rippling all around them is arguably better than shiny decorations. Caleb certainly can constitute as a beautiful boy. After all, she’s just admitted he is neither stinky nor dirty anymore. And arm wraps aren’t quite the same as a shirt, but he has taken part of his clothes off in front of her. 

Creepy snails and the third day without daylight weren’t her romantic vision, sure. But. She feels safe here, with him, and she hopes he feels safe with her. She had meant what she had said, a few days back, when he spilled his fears and his history on the floor of their wagon. She didn’t think he was a bad person. And the way he looked at her when she said it, man, he wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe it so bad. 

She ought to let him know. She ought to tell him, again, that she believes in goodness in him. She believes in love in his heart. She ought to tell him right now, in this glittering cave with his heart and arms bare before her. She ought to tell him in a way where he can’t argue back ‘cause his face will be preoccupied. 

It would be so easy …

*******

IV. 

“YOU GUYS!”

She practically burst the door to their new ally’s house down with excitement when she got back, holding out the little striped carrying box in front of her like it’s the coolest loot they’ve ever found. She bounces on her toes, making it hard for anyone to get a real look at the confections inside. 

“What do you have?” he asks, knowing she wants to tell him.

“Cupcakes!” she beams back.

“A lot of them, or?”

She flips the lid up and pushes her nose nearly into the icing topping as she examines the haul. “Well I have thirteen here, so … one, two, three -” 

He almost says the numbers along with her. Counting things and making Jester smile are both muscle memory at this point.

“ - six, so good! That’s one for each of you and the rest for me!”

He looks in the box properly now, the counting having slowed her jitteriness enough for him to try and piece out flavors. There’s some dark ones that could be chocolate, but he doubts it, and some that are paler, dotted with blue. He reaches for a blueberry one, and takes a cautious bite. 

“Caleb,” she says, pouting, and he’s worried he wasn’t supposed to try one, “you are Missing. Out.” 

She sticks her face in towards him, to make sure he can get a good look at this reprimand. She’s got a little bit of icing stuck in the corner of her mouth. 

“You can get blueberry cupcakes anywhere.”

He keeps his eyes trained on her, longer than he really ought to, but he’s trying to figure it out. 

Is that a challenge, Lavorre? Is that a promise?

It would be so easy...

*******

V. 

She has to get up on her tip toes to reach the shelf where they keep the scribing paper, pulling the stack towards her so she can count out sheets. 

“About 300 gold?” 

“Mmm.”

She counts out the sheets, thumbing them forward into a little pile that she pulls apart, before stretching up to push the rest back onto the shelf. She turns on her heel and marches for the front counter. He lingers a moment to straighten the pile on the shelf, and trails after her. 

His gaze is buried in the inside of his coat as he searches for his coin purse. His hands are still buzzing, just a little, from where she held them earlier and promised him she’d be at his side. He can’t stop thinking about it. It’s distracting him from getting his coins. 

The distinctive clink of metal on countertop jerks his gaze up just as he reaches his hand in for the first coin. She’s already dropped the gold in a neat little pile, pleasantly smiling at the clerk as she snaps the clasp on her purse shut. 

“That’s very generous of you,” he says, hand still frozen holding his own money. 

She swings around, flashing a thumbs up and a grin. She holds it a little too long for comical effect. Of course, he snickers. 

She turns to the paper on the countertop, making to gather it in her arms, but he starts, and she turns back to face him. He’s frozen there, hand just barely outstretched for her, mouth agape like he was going to say something. 

What is there to say? What can he possibly say to her, to repay everything she’s ever said to him? What can he say that’s worth the sound of her laugh, and the way her tongue sticks out a little when she smiles? What’s worth the way she brightens up a room even when she’s grumpy, the bubble to his gloom? 

What measures up to a tap on his shoulder as he turns to leave his study, and hands in his as she swears, with the most somber honesty he’s ever seen, that she watched him face what he could have been, tied up like a feral beast in a prison cell, and she stares in his eyes and tells him it’s ok, she saw it and loved him even through it, and then bought him presents afterwards just because?

He’ll never deserve her, he swears. 

She’s still looking at him, expectantly, and his mouth is still stuck open, and his hand is still halfway between the two of them. Maybe it’s just him, but the memory of her holding it seems to be burning even hotter. 

He tries to say something again, and the words aren’t coming out. She’s still waiting on him, expression starting to tip towards worry as he tries and fails to express just how overflowed his heart is right now. He can’t say it but gods, she ought to know how much she’s worth to him. Maybe he can just show her. He’ll tell her later.

It would be so easy … 

******

VI. 

The hallway is orange. Pale, warm, sort-of-translucent orange, swirling about her in patterns of lollipops and unicorn hamsters. Her own spells wrapped in the tender grip of his magic, handed to her with something like reverence. 

I believe, he had said, I have no choice. 

He’d done little things like this before, casting spells to make her and everyone else happier, letting her play with his cat because it made her smile. But he said he’d been working on this for weeks. Pouring time and sweat and his precious paper into making this thing, just for her. Everyone liked to tease her about the Traveler and how it was totally a cult, and usually she let it roll off her back, even if it stung a little on impact. And Caleb was here, telling her he took her belief in the Traveler at face value, simply because it was hers.

I don’t know anything about faith, he had said, I am learning from you.

He was a suspicious man. She knew that. He held grudges, and he mistrusted, and he had every right to. And yet all these months, he’s been putting everything he had in her hands, sure that she would not drop it. She would hold it as gently as she could.

I am the transmutation wizard, he had said, but you are the one who changes people. 

How was he supposed to know that was what she was afraid of, leaving no mark on the world at all? How was he supposed to know she made art everywhere she got the chance to in hopes that she would stop being erased, start existing outside of one little room and a handful of people? 

He wouldn’t have any reason to, except for he knew her so well, better than nearly anyone. He could tell when doubt was crawling up out of her gut, spilling its black tendrils from her mouth and across her eyes. He could see when the veneer got scratched, and he knew how to brush it just so, so it looked okay again. He knew how to comfort her. 

“It’s beautiful.” 

She knows it’s barely anything, but she doesn’t know what else to say. It caught her by surprise, and she’s reeling a little in the aftermath of seeing just how far he’s willing to go for her. 

He says something else, she barely processes, but it’s enough to get her babbling about some kind of performance. She trips over her words a little, she’s just so excited. He can tell, he smiles, and that just makes her heart jump even more. 

“But you have done so much for m- for all of us,” he says, and he’s not sneaky.

For me. She knows he was going to say it. For me. 

Tears are almost brimming in her eyes, happy ones, and he put them there. Done so much for her, she thinks, has he counted how much he’s done for me? She’s clasping her hands at her mouth, trying to keep all her feelings from coming out at once.  

He doesn’t know the half of it, everything he’s done for her. To make her feel safe, to make her feel smart, to make her feel seen, to make her feel believed in. He doesn’t know it at all, and yet the hallway is orange as a testament to how much he’s done, and she can’t let the sentiment go unreturned. 

It would be so easy … 

*******

VII.

“Didn’t go as well as you were hoping?”

His voice seems to startle her, as if she’d forgotten in her sadness that there were other people around her. He knew the feeling. 

“In some ways it went better?” she says, doubting it even as it leaves her mouth. “But. No.”

His face softens. It’s the only thing he can do, really.

Her breath is coming out shaky.

“I can’t speak for him,” he starts, offering what little encouragement he can, “but you do have us.”

“I know,” she answers, grateful even through the sadness. 

“So, whatever you land on. Jester.” He stops for a second, letting her name linger in his mouth. “We will make it happen.”

She nods, curt, tears still pricking in her eyes. “I have to figure out what I want to land on.”

He laughs, hollow and breathy, what else is there to do. He starts to reach his hand out for her, and catches it, his own hesitance getting the better of him.

He knows what he wants her to land on, he’s known for … longer than he really cares to admit. He knows he’d follow her to hell and back, that’s why he’s here on this island with her. 

He knows how hard it is to love without a compass to direct it. He knows that moonlight makes selfishness a much more appealing color. 

It’s dark, and he’s hopelessly in, and she’s searching for a place to not be so alone. He could show her a place to land. 

It would be so easy … 

******

VIII. 

He’s holding it out to her, a black ball clutched between his fingertips, just a little iridescent in the blazing sun overhead. He’s grinning, and his eyes are bright. He looks so happy, for just this moment, with a pearl in his hand. 

Forget the water pouring down their faces as they come up from the murk, plastering their hair to their foreheads at odd angles. Forget the wrench in both their guts about the monster brewing beneath their feet and in their minds. Forget the clothes sticking to their skin in all the wrong spots. Forget the sounds of their friends arguing twenty feet back. 

She jumped in the water with him for a reason, because he wanted pearls, and she wanted him to be happy, and he’s holding one out to her right now because he is, and that’s all she could really ask for.

Maybe it’ll be extra wet and slippery. Maybe it’ll taste like salt and seaweed and that weird fish stink that all bodies of water seem to have. Maybe her hands are covered in sand and they’ll get some in their mouths and it’ll be disgusting. 

Who cares? She jumped in the water with him and he’s happy. 

It would be so easy … 

******

IX.

The funny thing is, when she was little, she actually planned her wedding in this room. The canopy bed would double as the altar, gauze draping about them and the window lighting them from the back as they knelt with their hands together, wrapping them up with silk ribbon as someone spoke some formal rites. Mama would sit in the guest of honor chair at Jester’s desk, a tear running down her cheek as she watched her baby girl marry the love of her life.

Now Caleb’s in here with her and she’s realizing there’s no good angle to get the window backlight and be in full view of her Mama.

He’s lying down on the bed, because she told him to. She’s flopped down next to him, squirmed up into his side with the excuse of “small bed” but the intent of “I like the way I rest against your side”. 

He’d commented on her array of books - she knew he would. She may or may not have pulled the smarter looking titles up to the front a few visits ago, just in case.

He’d looked at her artwork too, spanning the walls in all its multicolored glory. He’d bent down to get a good look at her earliest, shittiest paintings. But not in the way where he wanted to see how bad they were, to laugh at. In the same way he looked at new artifacts they’d picked up along the road, as he traced his runes for Identify. Like he was trying to glean a missed history out of them, to get to know just a little bit more about what was in front of him now.

So she’s curled into his chest, careful with her horns, wrapping her hand over his to point out every last detail. Her other hand falls to his stomach, her fingers brush his, and neither of them pull away.

She always figured they’d fall like this, her and her husband, backward onto the bed after the ribbon was knotted to finalize their union. They’d be too happy to stand and they’d just collapse at each other’s side, and they’d plan their honeymoon like this. Pointing out places they wanted to go in her little snapshot of the cityscape, nestled into each other’s chests. 

Caleb’s enraptured, she can hear excitement in his breath, and she’s more than a little pleased. She didn’t know people cared this much about her art, about her childhood, about who she was before she became who she is. She hopes she has all the time in the world to tell him more. 

She’s still on his chest, their hands are still touching, even though she’s finished pointing out the painted landmarks. She’s kissed a lot of imaginary boys in this room. 

It would be so easy … 

******

X.

Spinning with her arms out, feet tracing circles in the snow, they haven’t even made it to the dance hall yet and she’s already waltzing like he taught her all those months ago in a scroungy gnomish bar. The cold is bringing a flush to her cheeks and god damn it, it’s cute. She’s humming. 

They could get inside where it’s warm, where they don’t need to get close for heat but they do anyway. Wrap an arm around her waist and take her hand in his. Keep her close enough to hear her giggle with each twirl he leads her on. Get drunk off her smile alone. 

Find a far corner where the music is softer and they have space to just sway together. Write new memories over old, equally as sweet, slightly less bitter. Look at that smile that won’t have faded since before they stepped through the door. Run his fingers across her jaw, save this moment in tactile too. Lean down in slow motion, as she stretches up.

It would be so easy … 

******

XI. 

“What are you drawing?” he asks, not even looking up from his spells. He’s grown comfortable with having her in his space.

“A cup of hot cocoa.”

“Are there dicks in it?”

“No, just two very lovely marshmallows.”

His head lifts up at that, gazing at her with the gleam he’s been giving his runes. He’s trying to figure her out.

“Shnuggling up next to each other,” she continues. “With consent.”

“We’re not talking about grass are we?”

“No. I’m talking about marshmallows.”

“Marshmallows?” The gleam in his eye grows a little brighter. He leans a little closer. “I thought there was a hidden meaning for a second.”

There’s a reason why she sat down here, why she wanted him next to her as she thought about love and commitment, and telling people things after all these months. There’s a reason why he didn’t start as she settled at his side. There’s a reason why he’s looking at her with a cocked grin on his face, sure of himself, in a way that he so rarely is. 

Maybe she wanted him to figure her out. Maybe she’s been trying to get him to figure her out for a while. He’s starting to turn back to his spells, so maybe she needs to get even a little more obvious.

It would be so easy...

******

XII.

She knocked on the door with her heart already in her throat, but the second she stepped through the door and saw him looking over at her, tired but welcoming, it started to settle back where it belonged. 

“Caleb. Will you cast tongues on me? YouknowImeanthespell,” she said, rushing words out because her heart was starting to leap back up again. “I just want to read the book.”

He nervously tucks some hair behind his ear. “I could read it to you, if you want?”

She knew he’d offered before, but she’s still surprisingly happy that he’s done it again. “Okay.”

He stands, wiping stained ink from his fingers on his pants as he leaves his desk, gesturing her over towards his fireplace. She swears as she walks over the flames get a little taller. She’s always liked it warmer than Caleb does. 

She flops down onto the couch, wiggling a little bit to get comfortable. She pats the seat next to her and he obliges. She holds the book out and he takes it from her, so very gently, and she can’t tell if it’s just the way he treats books, or the way he treats her, or both. 

He clears his throat as he prepares to open the cover, glancing over to make sure she’s ready. She scooches a bit closer, resting her cheek against his shoulder, you know, to see the pictures better, and hums to let him know he can start. 

He talks to her in a quiet kind of voice. It’s soft, and it makes his chest rumble, and it feels like home. She could close her eyes and fall asleep here, and she can bet he wouldn’t even get up and risk disturbing her. She nearly does, but he’s stopping every few sentences to show her the pictures, without her even asking, he just knows she wants to see them. He’s pointing out the hidden cat on every page. She loves that he still remembers where they all are.

“That was a happy story, Caleb!” she says, mostly to his shoulder, because she doesn’t want to move from where she’s nestled herself. 

“Mhm,” he agrees. “That’s why my mother read it to me.”

“I really thought, like, the cat prince was going to trap him in there forever, and then he wouldn’t be able to go and see his mother.” She cranes her head up now, propping her chin on his arm, stabilizing herself with arms she was barely aware she’d wrapped around his waist. 

“Well,” he says, turning his head towards her and finding their noses nearly touching, “a lot of Zemnian stories do end that way.”

She laughs, he smiles, and neither of them want to move. 

“The Cat Prince kind of reminds me of the Traveler,” she muses. She buries her face back in his shoulder as she talks, squeezing her arms a little tighter around him. 

“It’s true, isn’t it?” 

It’s a question only in technicality. The way his voice sounds as he says it, she can tell. He’s read so many stories, he could have picked any to leave in her room, but he chose this one about a boy and a bedroom and a magic cat and a brief escape, with a happy ending. He knew she’d ask. He wanted her to. 

She’s glad she did. She’s glad he knows her so well. She’s glad for the way he turned up the fire to make her comfortable. She’s glad for the smile that’s still on his lips, lasting longer than his smiles usually do. She’s glad she’s here with him, after everything they’ve seen and heard and done. She’s just glad. 

Gods, she’s so in love with him.

It would be so easy.

fin.

[stainandscribble]

fleurs blanches au moulin rouge

White Flowers by the Red Mill

Pairing: Kim Jongin (Kai)/ Reader(female)

Genre: Moulin Rouge; dancer!Jongin; 1920′s!Jongin; fluff; slightly domestic au

Summary: You had one love since you were young: dance. it was your path out of poverty and your ascent to freedom. For years, you entertained the patrons of the Moulin Rouge, climbing in popularity until you were the main act. In the shiny golden lights of the spotlight, you were not alone. Jongin had accompanied you every step of the way, from the golden lights to the bruising dance practices in back rooms. You shared everything, your hearts, souls and bed.

Word Count: 4054

--- 

Moulin Rouge attracted many visitors, both rich and poor and those seeking a glimpse of freedom and liberty in the changing world. It’s garish red exterior and bright lights the Bastion of pleasures attracted a crowd and the dancers performing on its stage had become infamous for their daring choreographies and bold costumes. The spotlight of Moulin Rouge was a desire for most dancers, and you were the one lucky enough to occupy it. Living on the wooden boards of the stage had its fair share of hardships, but you were glad you didn’t face them alone. 

Moulin Rouge at the bottom of Montmartre was where Kim Jongin first tasted freedom, and it was where you first found out what a hundred pairs of watchful eyes, focused on your every move, felt like, and for you that had been a kind of freedom too. 

You started as two youngsters, dancing ballet in a small academy before the Moulin Rouge found you and brought you onto its wooden stage. Over the years you learned what it was like to have hundreds of eyes on you, and what the warm silky light of the stage felt like against your skin. In the golden glow, covered in sweat, with all eyes on you, you and Jongin fell in love.

Love had happened slowly, walked towards you in small steps. Slowly, leading eyes that followed you during rehearsals turned into lingering touches. The more you danced, the more his hands wondered, the closer your bodies pressed and the more your forms moulded to accommodate the other. Late-night practices meant late-night talks, and with adolescence came stolen kisses and holding hands in secret from the older girls.

With adulthood, the stolen kisses and wandering hands at practice became a burning romance that left both of you warm and passionate. Youth had seen you blossom, and now you were a flower, dancing with the sun in human form, for the fact that Jongin was golden.

In the backrooms of the establishment surrounded by candlelight, you dance your heart out to the music coming out the gramophone in the corner of the room. Your feet were sore from practising in your heels, and Jongin wipes sweat from his forehead. The summer had been particularly hot this year, and even dancing without a shirt had Jongin covered in sweat.

In the candlelight, his skin had assumed an even more decadent shade of gold and his dark hair stuck to his forehead in black streaks.

“It’s late, the sun will rise before we get home if we don’t leave now. I’m sure we can practice more in the morning.” You pleaded with him as he walked over to the gramophone, ready to put the record back at the start.

“Are you tired?” He asked, his velvety voice floated through the room, accompanied by the fragrant summer air.

“Is it not obvious?” You asked, smiling lightly when he looked at you, his deep brown eyes finding your own, and their intensity held you in place, waiting for whatever he would do next.

“I suppose, we can go home.” He allowed, letting you pick up his discarded shirt off the floor and dress him with tired hands.

Your home was just beyond Montmartre, at the edge of the next neighbourhood. You lived on the top floor of a three-storey building with two rooms, but it was yours, and it was enough.

You walked through Montmartre in the dark, your hand clasped in Jongin’s much larger one, as he pressed you closer to his side. The walk home was silent and peaceful as the both of you walked on tired feet, watching the night with blurry eyes. Jongin would have sworn he could still hear the echoes of the gramophone in his ears, playing the familiar melodies of foxtrot and Charleston that would entertain the patrons of Moulin Rouge for the next two weeks.

Once you were home, you had fallen into bed without a care in the world. The sheets were soft against your skin, and the night air cooled the room as it breezed through the open window, sending the white lace curtains dancing to imaginary music.

Soon Jongin had joined you, slipping under the covers in his pyjama bottoms. He pulled you closer to him, letting you rest your head against his chest. His thumb traced soft patterns against your shoulder, and you could feel his warm breath fanning your hair as he settled into the night.

“Sleep well, mon chérie.” You muttered, letting your eyes fall closed. My love, you call him, because he is.

“Good night, ma jolie fleur.” He responded, his deep voice vibrating in your ears like a soft purr. My lovely flower, he calls you, and he wonders is you know just how much those words mean to him. In the grips of sleep, right between dream and reality, you could have sworn he pressed a kiss to your forehead before falling asleep, sending your heart fluttering. You slept like that, warm in each other’s embrace.

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

Loving you was easy. It came to him as naturally as breathing. It had become second nature to his body, just as dancing had. Loving you was easy, and Jongin liked it that way. He never understood why anyone makes their life harder by loving someone difficult to be with. Maybe it was the chase after the forbidden fruit, the sweetness of fruit one assumed to be beyond ones reach. Maybe it was fate, and he never really had any say in who his heart loved. All those things seemed plausible. But all of them made life more complicated, made love more complicated, and Jongin didn’t need it to be complicated.

The sun shone through your bedroom windows, warming your back, and you felt the weight of Jongin’s arm draped over your waist. The morning had come too soon, and you wished it was still dark outside so that you could sleep a little longer in his embrace.

You turned in his arms to face him, your fingers stroking through his hair, pushing the dark strands away from his face as he breathed slowly, still fast asleep.

His love was easy; he loved you.

There was nothing more to that. You shared everything, lived your lives beside each other and loved simply.

Your ministrations woke him up, and when you retracted your hands to stop stroking his hair he groaned in protest, pulling you closer to him.

“Five more minutes.” His deep voice vibrated against your ears, and you laughed, returning to combing your fingers through his thick hair.

Sometimes he wondered whether what you had was not simple at all, but he had made it simple because yours was the only love he ever knew, and the only love he ever needed. Maybe that was what made it easy. Perhaps, somehow, love was never easy. Perhaps it was the hardest thing he has ever done.

Jongin wouldn’t know. You loved him, and that was easy enough.

He found no reason to torture himself with what-ifs and possibilities that never happened.

Finally, when he had enough he let you go, allowing both of you to begin the usual morning routine. Breakfast consisted of tea and baguette with butter and jam. He had eaten his breakfast in silence, sipping on the hot earl grey tea as the grogginess of the morning left him. This early in the day, his dark large eyes were puffy with sleep, and despite being combed, dark brown locks fell in front of his eyes.

“We need to stop by the market today.” He commented, watching as you sipped on your tea in silence. You hummed your approval, taking a bite out of your piece of bread. Jongin smiled, watching you as the sun fell on your face, giving your features a newfound softness.

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

Today, Jongin had been told you couldn’t use the practice rooms since the other dancers have put themselves on the schedule before you. Instead of waiting about for them to be done, you wondered off with him to the market.

Your shopping list was long, and you doubted if you could carry all of it today.

The stalls selling vegetables were your first target. On the bust street, you and Jongin blended in with the crowd as you strolled casually among the buyers and sellers crowding both sides of the alley.

You walked up to a large stall, covered completely in wooden crates of fresh produce, eyes scanning the rainbow of seasonal fruit and vegetables.

“What can I get you, mademoiselle?” The man running the stall asked he looked to be about your age. You watched as his eyes trailed after you before he averted his gaze. You felt Jongin’s hand wrap around the curve of your hip.

“May I get half a kilo of white transparent apples, three leeks and three courgettes?” You asked, unfazed by the slight scowl he sent Jongin’s way.

“Certainly.” He nodded, before picking up the vegetables and handing them to you to put in your basket.

“Jongin, do you want anything?” You turned to ask, craning your neck to see him. Bright sunlight gleamed off of his soft honeyed skin, and his dark eyes looked straight at the man selling you veg.

“Five red onions.” He said, smiling politely, although you noticed it never reached his eyes. There was no creasing at the corners.

“Here.” He handed you a bundle, tied together with string, before requesting the due amount.

“Are we having just soups?” Jongin asked, looking over at the ingredients in the basket. You could make soupe à l’oignon and pistou, and that would do for the next six days. Apart from the oats and apricot compote for breakfast, you would have to do with light lunches of quiche Lorraine and salad.

“What else would you like?” You asked, walking through the market, looking over the various stalls. Some sold cheese, others honey and even more sold vegetables and even bread.

“A chicken?” He asked, his eyes focused at the street at the end of the market, where the shops were. The butchers looked rather busy, with people queuing outside, and you had decided that you could afford it. Moulin Rouge would give you this month’s salary by the end of the week, after your next performance, and because it was summer, your salary had increased along with the amount of attending patrons.

“I’ll go to the butchers, hold these.” You stated, handing him the wicker basket filled with vegetables and fruit.

“Get potatoes and carrots.” You asked, pointing over at the stall beside you, manned by an older woman with greying hair, who even in the summer, was currently wearing a shawl to shield herself from the chill that came with age.

“Anything else?” He asked, one arm still wrapped around your hip.

“Can you carry anything else?” You laughed, waiting for a response that never came. A laugh bubbled out of your chest when you saw the dejected expression marring his sharp features. His brows were furrowed, and his plush lips were now pulled into a small pout, and you knew he didn’t want to part from you.

“I’ll wait for you outside the butchers.” He told you, finally letting you go, handing you silver coins from his pocket.

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

Loving Jongin was easy. Love came as naturally as breathing, as effortless as dancing to the tunes of the gramophone in stuffy backrooms of Moulin Rouge.

It was the only love you had ever known.

Now, you stood with him, hands clasped together in the dim light of the backstage as you waited your turn on the wooden floor, waiting for the cancan girls to finish their main act, their black and white dresses flying into the air, the ruffled providing them with incredible volume.

Your dress was simpler, a jade green, straight cut ensemble with beading around the neckline and down to the bottom. It reminded you of peacock feathers, and as the dress reached below your lip line, it split into three layers, the second layer was a light sage green, and the third was the same jade shade as the rest. The embroidery on the hems was beautiful and delicate, and you could tell it was Manon’s handiwork. The seamstress had made all of your outfits since she became Monsieur Baekhyun’s lover. Jongin’s suit was an identical green shade, with white lining on the inner edges and lining the pockets.  His hair was parted to the side and swept-back, a few loose strands curled over his forehead. He looked breath-taking.

Cheers rang through the establishment, and the cancan dancers gave their last bow, before disappearing through the opposite end of the stage.

It was your time.

Bathed in the silky spotlight, you entered in step with Jongin, smiling brightly, before he pulled your hand, twirling you towards him, and as your body pressed into his, the music began playing, and the crowd erupted in polite clapping.

You spun around the stage, pulling each other every which way, dancing to the tune of the Charleston. Your legs performed the complicated step routine without having to think, muscle memory acting on its own. The whole time you stared into Jongin’s eyes. His gaze, which had been soft and affectionate backstage was now smouldering, setting you on fire where he touched you. When the melody changed from Charleston to foxtrot, it was with natural grace and practised finesse that you assumed your new positions. Not a single breath out of time. That was the level of skill Jongin had always expected of himself, as his partner, of you as well.

It was easy to love him when he looked only at you under the golden light, his gaze flickering every once in a while to the audience to send a practised smile their way. It was a privilege to love him, when he spun you around, pressed you close to his body so that you could feel the pumping of blood rushing through his heart.

When the melody ended, and the hall fell into silence, the only sound you could hear was your heavy breath, and your blood rushing through your ears.

The split second of ringing silence was Jongin’s own paradise. It was heaven where only you existed, only you and the stage upon which he could dance, spin you around, and be spun.  It was a small piece of heaven, bathed in golden light and tasting like sweat and effort. Heaven belonged to him.

And then, it was over and the polite cheers brought him back to reality and off the stage.

“You have to change.”

“Your second set is waltz and tango in about fifteen minutes, Hurry.” One of the seamstress girls watching over the costumes ushered you both into an empty practice room before her friend handed you your next costumes.

This time your dress was white, the delicate lace layers covered the skirt, with white faux pearls stitched into the cream embroidery around the neckline. Jongin was handed a pair of black dress pants and a white shirt with ribbon ties at the cuffs.

“Don’t button it all the way. Leave a few undone.” One of the younger seamstresses giggled, before walking out of the room.

You laughed once she was gone and proceeded to take your jade green dress off, draping the beautiful garment over a chair.

You watched from the corner of your eye as Jongin did the same, taking off his green trousers, putting on the black slacks and suspenders.

Once you were done, you watched as Jongin buttoned his white shirt completely.

“Leave a few undone.” You chastised, walking over to pull a few buttons free.

Without warning, Jongin swooped down, his warm lips pressing into yours, and you could feel his hands coming to grip your hips, as his mouth moved in sync with yours.

“Do you have your red lipstick?” He asked, breaking away from you, his eyes twinkled with mischief.

“Yes, why?” Your brows furrowed, and you looked up to search his face, shadows dancing over his sharp features as gas lamps burned in the corners of the room. His brown eyes reflected the yellow light, turning bronze when he looked down at you.

“I was thinking, we could tease them a little.” He whispered, leaning towards you to drag his plump lips across your hairline; his touch so gentle it tickled.

“How so?” you whispered, your hands still holding onto his waist. He pressed his lips against yours again.

“A few red stains never hurt anyone.” He smiled, and you laughed at his suggestion. He wanted you to kiss him, leave kiss stains over his body.

“And where would you like them?” You smiled, pulling away to reach for your bag, draped over a chair along with your and Jongin’s clothes. The little black tube was quickly taken from you, and Jongin took it upon himself to glide the red pigment over your lips.

“How about here, and here?” He pulled his shirt away, revealing the smooth golden skin of his collar bones.

“I can do that.” You smiled, looking up at him to gauge his reaction. With a relieved sigh and a small smile blooming on his lips, he pulled you closer to him.

“Thank you.” He whispered once your soft lips pressed against his soft skin, firm against the hard bone beneath it.

“My pleasure.” You whispered, pulling away, letting him kiss your forehead one last time before you left, hand in hand to your next set.

This time as you waited for the dancers in black and white dresses to leave the stage there was no silence lingering between you. The seamstress girls who had been giggling all night and battering their eyelashes in Jongin’s direction were murmuring among themselves, sending angry looks your way. Jongin’s hand was firm against the swell of your hips, his nimble fingers playing with the lace details as he whispered sweet nothing into your ear. You ignored them in favour of listening to the quiet deep timbre of Jongin’s voice,

“I like this dress on you.” He whispered, lips brushing against your ear. He could feel you tense against him, your neck craning to take a look at him.

“Why?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“How about I get you your own white dress?” He ignored your question, eyes focusing on the dancers twirling on the stage in the glow of the spotlight.

“And a veil?” He continued, fingers moving to play with the hem of your neckline, gliding over the uneven surface, occasionally falling onto the little faux pearls decorating the dress.

“A veil?” you asked, his other hand wrapping around your abdomen to pull you a little closer to his body as Jongin stood behind you.

“Mhhm.” He hummed.

You could feel the vibration against you, his chest purring like that of a cat as you both watched the performance on stage. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking.

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

Loving you was easy. Jongin had always known that. He had felt reassured in his decision when he caught Byun Baekhyun’s eyes in the audience in the middle of the tango. The older man was smiling, his hands clasped over his lover’s. His love was not easy, with social standing and family in the way, bringing Manon and showing her off in public was risky, but it was a risk he was willing to take when attending Moulin Rouge. The Bastion of Pleasures had one fascinating quality. Its scarlet exterior and bustling interior always felt like freedom. Whether it was Jongin dancing on the stage under the golden stage lights or it was you, with hundreds of eyes following your every move, or even Baekhyun, who could bring his love out among free-spirited Parisians. Moulin Rouge felt like liberation, and that had always made him brave. Looking at Monsieur Byun that night, happy in the seamstress’ arms, made him want to reassure the man. That was why he had smiled, and to his surprise Baekhyun had smiled back, raising his champagne flute in silent thanks. For a moment, he understood the older man, their situations were similar enough; they were both in love with someone society disapproved of.

Now, with the show finished, he was holding your hand again. The summer breeze blowing in the night carried the scent of flowers and the memories of summer nights spent in your arms, and he wanted to live in this moment forever. Warm, fed and in love.

“Did you know Byun Baekhyun is planning on running away with the seamstress?” He asked you, making you turn your attention to him with the sudden question. It has been a running joke they would finally elope, but you had not thought they would do it. Byun Baekhyun was a Joseon man, but unlike Jongin he had parents and an inheritance. His path was set, and you didn’t think he would stray from it.

“And where did you hear that?” You asked, pulling him along towards your home. In the dark, illuminated only by few dim streetlamps, he looked ethereal, and you thanked whoever decided you could love him, for the fact that you would not have to run away just to lay in his arms.

“Kyungsoo works as his accountant, he told me they bought tickets for a ship sailing to French Indochina.”  Jongin looked over at you, eyes scanning your features, softened by the dim light of the streetlamps as you walked home, your shoes clicking against the cobbled stones beneath your feet.

“I’m happy for them. If they succeed and get married, I wish them all the best.” You answered, genuinely happy that they found a solution. You could not imagine what leaving Jongin would be like. It was a possibility too painful to consider.

“What if,” Jongin began, but he cut himself off, not sure if he should ask the question running through his mind.  He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his suit trousers. His dark eyes, now black like the night, fell onto the cobblestones and his straight brown brows furrowed, creasing his smooth forehead.

“What?” You inquired, linking your arm through his to match his step. For a few paces, he stayed silent, basking in the warmth of your body beside him, scared of rejection. You watched from the corner of your eye as he chewed on his lips turning them red.

“What if we get married? Nothing is stopping us. We don’t have parents deciding our future, and everyone already knows we are lovers.” He asked finally, his feel stopping, making you halt alongside him. You turned to face him, catching his nervous gaze, and holding it as silence rang through your ears.

“We could get married.” You took his hand, threading your fingers through his.

You loved him. You had always loved him, and you were sure you would always love him because despite life being hard, despite the world making living difficult, loving him was easy.

“I would like that.” You told him. A smile graced your red-painted lips and you could hear your pulse in your ears as your heart beat against the rungs of your ribcage as the bones held it hostage.

“Really?” He asked, disbelief at how easy it was painting his face. His features softened when he looked at you as he let go of your hand, choosing instead to cradle your face.

“Of course. I love you, mon chérie.” You whispered, your lips brushing against his, sending a familiar tickle down his spine.

“I love you too, ma jolie fleur.” He whispered back, his lips pressing against yours firmly. You moved in sync in the darkness, the fragrant summer air filled your lungs, and you kissed the way you danced, passionately until there was no more air in your lungs and you didn’t know where one ended and the other begun.

Loving was as easy as breathing, an effortless dance you had practised over and over until your bones ached.

Loving him was easy, and you would be forever thankful for the wooden boards of the stage at the heart of Moulin Rouge where your young hearts first learned what love was.

[yoonsshadow]

Strawberry Kisses ⎯ kth

➺ summary ; He’s the love of your life, especially when he tastes like strawberries.

➺ pairing ; kim taehyung x fem!reader

➺ genres ; romance, slice of life, non idol!au

➺ themes ; fluff

➺ warnings ; seriously this is just tooth-rotting fluff

➺ word count ; 1.2k

➺ note ; this is written for and dedicated to the lovely, the beautiful, the precious Bela, aka @alilbihh​. She has brought so much happiness and comfort into my life just from her writing alone, and she’s also so sweet and kind and ugh. Read every single one of her works, you won’t regret it, I promise.

Dawn slowly melts away; drizzles into a hazy morning of cool air and warm skies. The sun isn’t yet fully risen, its light only barely kissing the overhanging clouds and casting soft shadows, yet it’s enough for your sleepy eyes to be able to trace the silhouettes of the trees from where you stand at your kitchen window.

Skin still warm from the sheets you’ve just left⎯⎯the body you’ve just untangled yourself from⎯⎯you feel the nip of cool air on your bare limbs, draped only in a thin button-down. It belongs to him, soaked in his scent, and falls off your shoulder as you lean closer to the glass to watch as a bird flutters by. It begins to sing, somewhere in the distance, a melody meant only for your ears.

You aren’t startled when arms wrap around your waist, a warm breath ghosting over your bare shoulder as lips hum into your skin. A rough and slow sound, his voice melts into you until you’re shivering within his embrace, and he only holds you tighter.

“You’re up early.” He kisses just behind your ear, sways you softly to a silent tune. “Missed you.”

“Didn’t want to wake you,” you mumble, fingers tracing patterns into his arms and eyes tracing the patterns of the clouds. 

“What’s on your mind?” He still sounds half-asleep, but you know that his question is genuine. He’s told you that one of his favourite places to be is in your mind, no matter how often you assure him that he’s never left it.

“I had a dream about you.” You can recall the bright snippets with ease, feel the way they warm you from the inside out. “Well. More of a memory. I dreamt of the day we met. Do you remember?”

“How could I forget?” The words vibrate through your neck where he’s buried his face, featherlight kisses punctuating every syllable. “That was the best day of my life.”

You want to scoff at the sappiness, but he has showered you with so many similar compliments, sweet and sugary without effort, that you believe him. He has complimented your glow so often that you’ve begun to believe yourself a star.

“Let’s go back to bed,” he says, soft and deep and enticing. You can only hum in response, because the thought of being in your warm bed with your warm boy and a warm heart is enough to have your eyelids drooping again.

Early morning sunlight seeps through your knitted sweater, kissing a warm glow upon your cheeks as you slowly make your way through the bustling markets. You are only new to this town, boxes still unpacked in your tiny apartment, dust collecting on the to-do list that you have yet to touch, but even you know that these weekly markets are filled with life. With love.

Basket hanging loosely in the crook of your elbow, you are unhurried in your wandering, simply taking in the different stalls of foods and treats, the different characters who weave in and out amongst them. This is the third time you have been here, and you are still finding things that you have not noticed before.

And some things that are magnetic in their familiarity.

Never with a list upon arrival, you always leave these markets with a vast array of produce and ingredients to try throughout the week. Mostly, you try to acquire something new each trip, but there is one stall that you always visit without fail, if not for the product, then for the smiling face behind it.

‘Grandma Kim’s Strawberries’ is a hand-painted sign that you gravitate towards without thinking, and by the time you are there, your own smile is stretched across your face.

“Good morning, halmeoni.”

“Oh, Y/N-ssi! So lovely to see you again, beautiful!” Grandma Kim’s smile is so wide and genuine that you find yourself giggling, overcome with happiness simply from seeing her face. “How are you? Are you settling in well?”

“Yes, thank you! I am doing well, but I still have so much to see in this town, but I don’t know where to begin.”

Something sly shadows over Grandma Kim’s smile, and soon she is clapping excitedly. “Oh, well you should have somebody guide you around! In fact, my grandson is very familiar with the town, and I’m sure that he would be able to help you.”

“Oh, thank you, but that isn’t ne-”

“Taehyung-ah! Come here, I want to introduce you to somebody!”

You hadn’t even noticed the person behind Grandma Kim when you had approached, lifting crates of berries and sorting through the boxes. But now, as he turns to face you with a polite smile, you wonder how you could ever ignore such a person.

Goodness gracious, he is handsome.

Grandma Kim waves him forward, smile never leaving. “Y/N, this is Taehyung, my grandson. He doesn’t usually accompany me to the markets, but I needed some extra muscle today. Taehyung-ah, this is Y/N. She just moved here a few weeks ago and is very lovely. She needs somebody to guide her around town.”

Your cheeks grow hot, unable to meet the eyes of the insanely attractive man before you. “Ah, no, halmeoni, it’s okay, I don’t want to be a bother. I’m sure I can find my way around.”

“I don’t mind,” Taehyung says, and you grow briefly light-headed at the depth in his voice. “I’ve lived here my whole life, so I would be honoured to show you around.”

You finally look up, into those dark, brown eyes, and find yourself smiling despite yourself. “Oh, well, okay then. Thank you very much, Taehyung-ssi.”

His smile is broad and boxy, and gosh you love it already.

All the while, Grandma Kim is looking between the two of you, eye filled with stars and a little bit of hope.

You wake up later in the morning, still entangled in the sheets. There is warmth beside you, beneath you, all around you, and you smile into a bare chest when you hear a hum from above.

“Good morning, my love.”

You don’t want to open your eyes⎯⎯don’t want to part with your nostalgic dreams just yet⎯⎯but there’s a hand tracing lines over your back, lips leaving soft kisses against your hairline. So you open your eyes, kiss the chest you’re leaning on, and look up at the man who has consumed your heart whole.

“Morning, baby.” Taehyung smiles sleepily at your reply.

“I brought breakfast.” Without letting you out of his arms, he reaches to the nightstand and reveals a box of fresh strawberries, shiny and red and oh so appealing. “My favourite fruit for my favourite girl.”

“Mm, my favourite too.”

“The fruit, or the boy?”

“Both.”

You eat strawberries this morning, your legs tangled with his as you press the berries to each other’s lips. If you were to squeeze just a little, just a bit, the juices would drool onto your fingers, into your palm. He’d kiss each fingertip before tracing the liquid lines with his tongue.

And as you bring the stems away from between his teeth, he looks at you with those eyes. The ones that say ‘I love you even when you’re sticky with strawberry juice’. So you press another to his smile, squeeze it just a little, just a bit, and kiss the juice from his lips yourself.

[dumbfuck-mojave]

(Ah Shit) Here We Go Again

Whumptober 6, 8 and 14

Main Character: Julian Devorak 

Also featured/Mentioned: Calafia the Assistant, Patient. Sigurd and Hallie, Two other assistants. 

Franchise: The Arcana

Warnings (Please heed them, this whole month will be filled with sensitive topics. Anyway): Sickness/Unknown Sickness, Flashbacks, Bruising, Injury.

A/N: This takes place some time after the events of a playthrough, whichever playthrough you choose to think. This is a really neat idea I think, I just didn’t have enough time regardless to write a 5,000 multichapter fic about a second illness sweeping Vesuvia. Sorry for the spoilers. Sid needs to stop putting off things she can work on over multiple days. One of the prompts is more of what the characters assumed over the truth. 

Word Count: 771

@laughable-illusions I tag you since you’re cool and like The Arcana. 

“Dr. Devorak!” 

Julian flinched up, his red waves bouncing around his head from the sudden movement. He grabbed the candle on his desk, the only light in the room, and hurriedly walked downstairs to the door. He swung the door open to reveal one of his assistants kneeling on the ground next to a body. 

“Calafia, what-”

“I don’t know.” Calafia looked up at him with frightened eyes, “I was coming back with ingredients from Asra and I just found them like this.” 

Julian bent down and swept the person into his arms, Calafia following him into the house and closing the door. A sheet was quickly thrown over the wooden exam table as Julian laid the body down.

The body was feminine, with deep bruising everywhere Julian could see. He gingerly untied the loose tunic they were wearing. As he and Calafia maneuvered the arms out, one hand moved to grab his own; he looked up to see crystal blue eyes staring back at him, bright against the heavy bruising surrounding them. 

“What’s your name?” Julian asked softly, laying the person back down. 

“Saffron.” A gentle, raspy reply. Julian looked down at Saffron’s throat, the same intense bruising coloring it. That explains the strained voice.

Calafia perked up at the name, “You’re part of the merchant band that just came to the city, aren’t you? I remember someone shouting your name.”

Saffron attempted to smile, then barely nodded. 

“Saffron, what happened to you?” Julian heard Saffron wheeze and tense up as he touched around her ribs.

“My….lung. Something happened, please..” Saffron brow furrowed in pain, and Calafia’s hands went down to pet her hair. 

Saffron, in Julian’s honest opinion, looked like she had been in a fight with several people much larger than her. With rocks. It didn’t surprise him something happened to her lungs, one of them had probably collapsed based on her breathing pattern. Fights also meant internal bleeding, which Julian needed to check for immediately. 

“Saffron, who did this to you?” He heard Calafia ask, though she was muffled by his focus moving down to Saffron’s stomach. 

He would have to talk to Nadia about finding the people and having them imprisoned for doing such an appalling thing. 

“No one…it just happened?” That made Julian clear up, looking up at Saffron confusedly. 

He then noticed the faint red in her eyes, barely visible…. Her hands were bright with the color as well.

He had to force himself to not back up. Not again, this was not happening again. Her eyes and hands were red from trauma and irritation, bruising wasn’t even a symptom of the plague. But what if it WAS happening again, if this was a new symptom. It can’t be, it can’t be.

“Dr. Devorak?” He looked up to see Calafia looking at him with a concerned gaze, Saffron staring at him out of the corner of her eye. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” He swallowed the lump in his throat, “Saffron, did this all happen suddenly or did you have symptoms of anything beforehand? Take your time, I know this is difficult for you.”

Saffron stilled for a second, then started.

“Before we got here….dizziness...then the day we arrived...bruises started….small at first, but then suddenly...right before I went to sleep, they got worse,” Saffron paused for a long moment, sweat beading on her forehead, “I thought it was a dream when I woke up, I didn’t even feel the pain...until I fell.”

She croaked out the last sentence hurriedly, and closed her eyes when finished. Julian thought for a moment; so much had to be done. Even if it wasn’t the plague, something was definitely wrong with Saffron and they needed to take precaution.

“Calafia, go to Sigurd and Hallie’s house. Don’t get close to them, but knock on their window and tell them to go to the palace and the shop to inform Nadia and Asra with what is going on. We cannot risk taking the chance to see if this is transmittable…. Even though it might have already been spreading.”

Calafia nodded and ran out the door as Saffron spoke once more.

“I’m..sorry. It was only me…. No one else was sick.”

Julian smiled, “That’s good, but we still need to investigate. We’ll set a room for you here, to help you recover.”

She would recover, Julian decided. No matter what it took, he was not letting this happen again. 

Silently, he made a wish to any power listening; a wish for safety. Hopefully they could stop it this time.

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

Undercover love part 2

Part two to this that @detective-giggles and I planned together. This is second and final part :)

Warnings: Fluff, swearing and Smut.

WC: 2829

As you came to slowly opening your eyes, your head felt like it was cracking in half and your mouth was like sand paper. You started to ball your hands to grab onto something to help with the pain, only being able to grab the hospital bed sheets.

“Y/N your awake” You heard a familiar voice.

“Wha-Where am I? Barba?”

“Just rest mi Amor, we can talk later” you felt Rafael’s lips on your forehead and his hand grabbed yours running his thumb over your knuckles as you drifted back asleep.

“Y/N and Barba sitting in a tree, K-i-s-s-i-n-g” you rolled your eyes at Amanda as you took a sip of your soda.

“Don’t be a bitch Amanda, we haven’t even kissed yet- and what the hell is this horrific movie?” You reached for the remote to change the station.

You had gotten back from Hospital that morning feeling much better than you had in the last 24 hours. When you were rushed to hospital Rafael rode with you in the back and he stayed with you the night leaving early that morning to go home and shower and change for court. He was nothing but caring and attentive. He wasn’t able to take you home when you were discharged, so Amanda came and dropped you home and then came back once she clocked off after the first day of the trial.

Amanda came back with her overnight bag and Frannie worried about you being alone that night. You were sitting on your couch eating pizza with Frannie between you both.

“You never told me, how was the trial start today?” You looked at Amanda.

“Brutal, Barba is out for blood. Him and Liv aren’t talking you know. They had a fight outside the club.”

“What?” you looked at her wide eyed.

“Yeah he’s pissed Liv left you in there so long. He was the one who told us to move in, twice actually”

“Wow” you looked down to hide your slightly pink cheeks.

“Yeah hopefully after the trial he settles down a bit, he is wound so tight. You should be grateful he isn’t putting you on the stand.”

That night Amanda slept next you, Frannie once again between you both, she woke every now and then to make sure you were ok. It was early in the morning not long before you knew Amanda had to get up so you ordered some coffee and breakfast before she had to leave.

“If this is what I’ am going to be waking up to every morning can I move it?” a big smile on her face as she sat down.

“Don’t push it- but seriously thanks for staying last night, meant a lot”

“That’s what friends are for” Amanda gave you a big smile.

****

It was coming to the end of the week and Sonny had told you the jury was out for deliberation, a verdict should be in by the weekend. You had the odd message here and there from Rafael, but you knew he was busy with the trial. It had been a hot day, you were grateful that you were able to be home with the air con instead of being stuck in a court room. It had finally started to cool down as the darkness of the night rolled in, so you decided to go for a walk to get some fresh air.

You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time before you slipped on your brown side bag. You had changed into a black mid-thigh t shirt dress and some flip flops, your hair in a high pony tail and made your way out the door.  You walked a few blocks not really heading in any direction when your phone chimed with a new message,

Rafael: 7.30pm- Hey Amor how are you feeling? I just got home.

You stepped to the curb and held up your hand for a cab. The cab pulled up at Rafael’s apartment block. You made your way to the front door of the building looking for his apartment number and pressed the button. You had been there once before with Liv when you needed some paper worked signed late one night.

“Hello” his voice came over the speaker.

“It’s me” you answered back and the door clicked that it had been open.

Butterflies filled your stomach as you made the 4 floor ride up. As the door’s opened you seen Rafael standing half in his apartment half in the hall way leaning on the door frame, arms crossed in front of himself. As he laid eyes on you a small smirk came to his face. His tie, vest and suspenders gone and shoes off showing a pair of bright purple striped socks. He was in his dress pants and shirt, top few buttons undone seeing his undershirt and his sleeves rolled up above his elbows. As you got closer to Rafael you gave him a big smile,

“Hope you don’t mind me dropping by?” You stopped just as your feet were about to touch his.

“Of course not” Rafael stood up straight, wrapping an arm around your shoulders pulling you into him brushing his lips to yours as you felt a spark in your belly, you rested one hand just above his elbow and the other on his chest, “I’ve missed you, I’ am sorry I have been so busy” Rafael said just above a whisper while he used his hand that was around your shoulder to brush down your cheek, down the side of your neck, making you moan softly.

Rafael pulled you inside the door and shut it behind him sliding the bolt closed with his free hand, pushing you up against the wall just next to it, pressing his crotch into yours.

“The trial is almost over” he whispered into your ear “But you turning up here tonight, I don’t know if I can control myself any longer”

“If it’s too tempting, I can leave if you want me to” you smirked at him, moving to take your cross body off dropping it to the floor.

His lips came landing down on yours running his tongue along your lower lip. You opened your mouth slightly. The kiss was intense and fiery. You could feel him hardening against you. His hands started to ran down your sides and back up to your breast and he cupped them through your dress giving them a light squeeze, your panties damping even more. You were squeezing one of his shoulders with one hand, while you rested your other on his waist again. Rafael pulled away to look at you, his eyes filled with desire,

“If you hadn’t noticed, I don’t want you to leave” Rafael licked his bottom lip

“I’ am glad, because I didn’t want to”

Rafael’s lips came crashing down on yours again, your arms moved to wrap around his neck pulling him into you. Rafael ran his hands down your side again, lifting your dress up to your hips, reaching around to your ass grabbing onto it lifting you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist grinding down on him while he moaned into your mouth, your flip flops falling off your feet behind him.  Rafael pushed you into the wall for support as he reached down between you both, moving your panties aside sliding two fingers inside you,

“Amor, you’re so wet” he groaned.

“Well- you’ve made me wait three weeks” he laughed back at you as you started to kiss down his neck.

“Don’t be cheeky Detective” Rafael mumbled.

“Or what” you pulled away from his neck “you’ll fuck me here and not in your bed?” you said into his ear. Rafael made a noise somewhere between a choke and a grunt.

He was lighting fast, pulling his fingers out of you reaching down to undo his belt buckle, pants button and zipper, pushing them and his boxers down just enough to free himself. His fingers were back at your centre as he moved your panties to the side lining himself up to you sliding in slowly.

“That’s exactly what I’ am going to do” Rafael pushed himself in all the way bottoming out, pausing for a moment for you both to get your breaths. Your legs tightened around Rafael pulling him in closer. Rafael had already known you were on birth control and you were both clean from a conversation you both already had one night.

“You’re so beautiful” Rafael looked into your eyes as he started to move in and out of you.

“Kiss me Rafi”

Rafael’s lips met yours as he thrusted into you fast, the sexual tension that had built up between you both too much for you to handle. Not once did Rafael’s mouth leave yours, you both swallowing each other’s moans and grunts. Fighting to catch your breath you pulled away from Rafael’s lips and lent your forehead to his. The fire in your belly about to erupt through you,

“Rafi- I- oh my- RAFAEL” your body filled with pleasure as you tighten your legs around him even more, your whole body shaking. You lent down and started to suck on Rafael’s neck grinding onto him, sucking ever so lightly next to his Adam’s apple. The sensation charged through him and with one more big thrust he was coming, moaning into your shoulder.

As he started to slow his movements, you lent back into the wall to get your breath, loosening your leg grip on him to move to standing. Rafael placed you down slowly so you didn’t lose your balance. You fixed up your panties and pulled down your dress. You lent your back against the wall and slid down to sitting, stretching your legs in front of you puffed out.

“You ok?” Rafael looked down at you as he zipped himself away.

“Amazing” you smiled at him.

Rafael made his way down to sit right next to you putting his hand on your knee and kissing your cheek.

“Let me take you out on Saturday” Rafael moved to put his arm around you.

“Is this what you do Counselor, wall sex and then ask them on a date-Or I’ am special” You winked at him, a smile pulling to his face.

“I guess you’re just special” Rafael lent over and kissed you on the lips while your hand was resting on his jaw.

****

Saturday morning you woke, looking out the window to the sun shining drinking a coffee when your phone chimed,

Rafael-10 am: Looking forward to seeing you Amor, I’ll message when I’ am down stairs x  

Y/N- 10.02: Looking forward to seeing you Raf x

You walked to your wardrobe and pulled out the cloths you were planning on wearing, ran to the bathroom showering and dressing. You put on a pair a jean shorts, a light camouflage pattern t-shirt, a white blazer and picking a pair of double strapped slides. You put on some light make up and with light shade of pink lipstick and using your curling wand to put some waves in your hair.

You had just sprayed some perfume, putting what you needed in your brown side bag when a message came,

Rafael- 11.30am: Waiting down stairs x

You walked out onto the street and saw Rafael standing leaning against a taxi, wearing dark blue jeans, a grey short sleeved Henley and navy boat shoes, as you got closer a low whistle left your mouth,

“Did you just whistle at me Detective?” Rafael stood up off the taxi wrapping both arms around your waist, planting a light kiss on your lips.

“I did Counselor” you winked at him “You’re looking very handsome”

“No different than any other day” Rafael raised his eye brow at you with a smirk, you throwing your head back laughing at him “And may I say you look gorgeous today, like always”  

As you got into the taxi, Rafael gave your ass a small slap before getting in himself and giving the address, holding your hand the whole drive to Central Park. The taxi pulled up, Rafael paid and you both got out. Rafael was quick to grab your hand and pulled you towards the horse carriages, walking up to the first one in the line.

“Really Rafi?” a big smile coming to your face.

“What- too cliché?”

“Wh- Oh no. I have always wanted to-“ Rafael cut you off

“I know Rollins and Carisi told me how you always talk about it, and well I’ am pretty sure you like me so I’ am making it happen” You lent over and kissed Rafael light on the lips.

The ride through Central Park was beautiful.

“Y/N- Last weekend” he grabbed your hand squeezing it “I was frightened. I felt sick seeing you in that situation and I couldn’t do anything about it. I- like you a lot and I never got a chance to tell you before what happened and I’ am sorry for that, I should have told you”

You lent over and kissed Rafael on the cheek,

“It’s ok, we didn’t know what was going to happen. We were all taken off guard. I knew you liked me, you showed me more than once” you squeezed his hand.

“I was showing you in a different way, but I should have said something. I don’t want you to think that I just wanted you for that”

“I know Rafi. I like you a lot too and well- not just for that.” You lent over and kissed him deeply as the horse carriage pulled up.

Rafael got out the carriage first and then helped you get down,

‘Can you close your eyes for me Amor?”

“Ah-ok” you did as he asked and closed them, Rafael putting his hands on your waist guiding you forward till he stopped you.

“You can open them now” Rafael said into your ear.

You let your eyes adjust and you moved your hands to your mouth in surprise. Set up on the grass was a beautiful light blue gingham blanket with a brown wicker picnic basket in one corner with a bunch of sunflowers sitting in front of it.

“You’re not saying anything. Do you not li-“

Rafael was cut off when you wrapped your arms around his neck and your lips landed on his. He wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you in, opening his mouth so you could deepen the kiss.

“Ok guys break it up”

You pulled away from Rafael and turned to see Liv standing there with Noah in his pram,

“Liv? Hey Noah- What are you doing here?” you walked towards Liv to give her a hug and then gave Noah a kiss on his head.

“I had some making up to do” Liv smiled at you, looking behind you to Rafael who stepped forward to wrap his arm around your shoulders.

“Thanks Liv” Rafael smiled over at her.

“I hope you guys enjoy it- see you Monday” Liv winked at you and turned to walk away.

Rafael grabbed your hand again and pulled you towards the blanket, making his way to the sit next to the basket, you followed sitting down next to him. Rafael opened the top of the basket and started to pull out its contents. Two wrapped sandwiches from the Cuban Deli that you liked, a tray of strawberries dipped in chocolate, a tray of 4 cupcakes beautifully decorated with love heart sprinkles, two plastic flute glasses and a medium size bottle of your favourite champagne.  Rafael picked up the bunch of sunflowers and handed them to you,

“These are for you” He handed them to you with a smile on his face.

“Rafi- this is- this is amazing, how did you know about all of this?”

“You have some amazing friends around you Amor- and I was told in not so subtle terms not to mess this up” he chuckled to himself “Rollins and Carisi told me everything, and I wanted to make this happen for you”

“Consouler, you getting soft on me” a cheeky smile came to your face.

“Never” Rafael winked at you.

The day had been amazing. The food was delicious and you were surprised at how publicly affectionate Rafael actually was.  It had started to get over cast as storm clouds started to move in. You guys had packed away what food that was left and the picnic blanket, walking out of the park hand in hand.

“Did you want to come back for coffee?” You looked over at Rafael as you made your way up to where some cabs were waiting just outside the gates.

“Just coffee?” Rafael winked at you.

“That’s original” you rolled your eyes with a smile on your face.

“I would love to mi Amor” Rafael lent over close to you ear “But I want to fuck you against your wall first.”

Tags: @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @the-baby-bookworm @dianilaws @scarletsoldierrr @lv7867 @permanentlydizzy @averyhotchner​ @evee87​ @ritajammer21​ @bisexual-dreamer02​ @winterreader-nowwriter​ @infiniteoddball​

[maraudersftw]

Here’s my little contribution to the Fem!Jily February fest being hosted by the marvelous @thejilyship this month! This one-shot revolves around the fairy tale theme. Enjoy!

First Light

“I can’t believe you brought her here, Prongs.”

“Shh, you’ll wake her.”

“Why don’t we take this outside? Let her rest for a bit.”

“Yes, thank you, Moony. She looks exhausted.”

There was half a beat of silence, and she sensed several sets of stares directed at her unmoving form even through her closed eyelids. She felt strangely exposed, knowing that the owners of the voices—two male, one female—were likely observing her ‘exhaustion’.

“I don’t care if she was dead on her feet! You should’ve been more careful. You see a pretty face and suddenly you’re thinking out of your arse. This is dangerous,” the first voice seethed, sounding thoroughly put out.

“Don’t be ridiculous; she’s just a girl.”

“She’s the princess!” a fourth voice squeaked—male again—and she forced herself to not twitch in alarm. Wherever she was, and she hadn’t a clue as to where, she was still known, still unable to escape her identity.

“Exactly! Wormtail’s right. If a princess is here, soon the entire royal army will follow.”

“So, what do you suggest then?” The female voice again—melodic, strong, annoyed. “I should’ve just left her to die in the middle of the forest? That we drop her back there right this instant?”

Silence fell again, deeper and longer. It seemed no one had an argument to counter the point.

She figured this was not the worst sort of group to have landed herself in. If they were hesitant to throw her to the wolves, they were at least a sight better than her sister. It didn’t matter that the wolves in the latter case had been metaphorical.

“Look, I think she’s waking,” said the fourth voice excitedly, and she realized she’d foolishly let a frown crease her forehead at the thought of Petunia. Even inside her head, her sister caused her trouble.

But there was nothing to it anymore; she pretended to blink her eyes open slowly, a dim glow from lit candles presenting to her a low wooden roof and old walls filled to the crevice with beautiful artwork—plants, ferns, flowers, patterns, and colors of every sort brightening up the space directly across from her.

Her fingers brushed over cool sheets as she sat up, the bed frame whining underneath her in protest. She noticed now that the drawings filled the entire room—save the roof and the floor—and was certain that she’d never seen such talent extracted from the tip of a paintbrush before.

Finally, unable to ignore the curious gazes directed at her any longer, she turned to the occupants in the small room.

There were indeed four of them as she’d guessed—three male and one female. They stood in pairs on either side of the bed. The one with the hardest stare had grey eyes and a mane of silky black hair. He was a handsome creature with a pale face and sharp features. But what really caught her eye was a familiar but rare band of glimmering black that twisted around his right forearm and disappeared under his clothing only to then peek out again over the skin of his neck.

Immediately, she rushed to examine the arms of the others—and sure enough, they each had a band of their own ingrained into their skin.

Her breath hitched in her throat. “You’re shapeshifters.”

If possible, the air in the room became thicker with tension at those words, uttered in the raspy, unused voice. A soft inhale from her left drew her attention to the female, and she blinked slowly, lips parting as she beheld the most entrancing creature she’d ever laid her eyes upon.

Her hair was a mass of dark, unruly strands that fell over her shoulders in thick waves. She knew Petunia would take to the tresses with a brush in hand as soon as she saw them. This meant that Lily inevitably found it wonderful. Large hazel eyes framed by thick lashes blinked at her, her own awe-struck expression mirrored back. The band on her arm was a blazing golden color.

“Your Highness,” said another voice, and she recognized it to belong to the one named ‘Moony’. He was thin—weakly, so—but his face was kind and smile gentle as he bowed his head slightly. Blue twirled around his arm elegantly. “We’re honored to have you here.”

At this, the grey-eyed one snorted in derision.

Blushing, she cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, but who are you? And—where am I?”

“I’m Remus Lupin,” he smiled at her, unbothered by the bitterness of one of his companions. “This is Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, and Jamie Potter,” he introduced, pointing to each one in turn.

Her eyes stayed on the last person for a second too long before she turned back to Remus. “It’s good to meet you. I’m Lily Evans.”

A small smile. “We know.”

“And—are you—?”

“Yes.”

“But your kind—we were told you became extinct decades ago!”

“Evidently not,” grumbled Sirius. Then, without preamble, “what are you doing here?”

She bristled at the tone but held the bite in her voice. “Where is here exactly?”

“Just beyond the forests of Gryffindale,” answered Jamie, and Lily was glad to have an excuse to turn to her again. A quick smirk appeared on the woman’s face—the expression so well-suited it was almost alarming—while her elbow swiftly dug into Sirius’s side. “I found you there in the woods. Unconscious.”

A brief scuffle ensued between Potter and Black, but she let her mind wander, dragging up the memories that had been eluding her for the past few minutes. It all came back in vivid clarity: Petunia’s mandate as the Queen of Gryffindale that she be married to Prince Severus. Her vehement refusal. The banishment from the castle for disgracing the family name when she’d confessed that she couldn’t marry a man, any man.

And then the terror that had led her to the forest in the first place—Severus had taken the rejection a little too hard, firmly pressing his belief upon her that she could come to love him if she just tried, and until then his love would be enough for them both, and why wouldn’t she just listen? He’d make her see the truth even if it meant making her stay with him until she ‘came to her senses’.

That was precisely when she’d fled.

Unfortunately, she’d underestimated the dangers that had lurked within the forest—finally coming to understand why humans were forbidden to enter it. She remembered crossing paths with creatures of all sorts: an Acromantula twice her size that had put the pictures she’d seen of the monster to shame, Kappas lurking in small clearings of weed-riddled swamps, and then she’d finally been chased to exhaustion by a pair of Red Caps who’d wanted to beat her to death.

She didn’t remember having collapsed, but if Jamie was to be believed, she was glad to still have breath in her lungs.

“How did you find me?”

Jamie paused in her attempts of trying to pull Sirius into a headlock and turned to her again. Instantly, a practiced grin graced her lips, one hand raising to mess with her hair. “I was strolling around. You seemed like you needed help.”

“Strolling?” she raised her brows, unimpressed, “in the forbidden forest?”

“We do that sometimes,” Peter said, reminding her that there was a fourth person in the room.

Eyes trained on the brown imprinted on his arm, she shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re actually—are there more of you?”

“Not that we’re aware of,” Jamie said. A smirk again, “neither in kind nor in nature.”

“Why do you live here? Hidden beyond the woods?”

“Why shouldn’t we?” Sirius snapped, “our kind is considered ‘unnatural’ in your world. We step out there and we’ll be hunted immediately.”

She looked down, upset. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Never mind that,” he waved her off, and she had the feeling that his anger was a fickle thing. “What I’m more interested in is what you’re doing here. And whether that spells danger for us.”

“I—I don’t know,” she sighed truthfully, “I was on the run from—someone, and the forest was the only place they wouldn’t follow me into. I didn’t even know creatures lived on the other side.”

“So…what?” Sirius gaped, “you just ran into that bloody forest knowing that you were probably going to end up dead anyway?”

“I didn’t have time to think at all if I’m being honest.”

The strangest thing happened then. At this careless narration of the most reckless thing she’d ever done in her entire life, Sirius Black grinned at her. Wide and bright and utterly mad. “Brilliant,” he said.

She wanted to roll her eyes, but fear was slowly creeping into her chest and burrowing comfortably again. “You don’t suppose they can cross the forest to come looking for me here, do you?”

A movement to her left. Jamie had moved closer to her side, hazel eyes boring into her with an inscrutable expression. “Not unless they want to die painfully. But the question is, do you want to go back?”

She exhaled, head pounding. Did she want to go back? Well, the answer to that was fairly simple. But she couldn’t see herself moving on with her life on this side of the forest without a care. Everything she’d ever known—everything she ever was—would be lost for all of eternity.

“I need to think.”

“Right, of course,” A nod from Remus. “You must be exhausted. We’ll leave you to rest for a bit.”

“You can freshen up if you want,” said Jamie, and she noticed how the woman’s fingers twitched as if to reach out. “I could lend you something clean to wear.”

Warmth bloomed in her chest, eyes falling to the shredded skirts of her dress, the dark stains. “I would be grateful, thank you.”

They filed out of the room then, Jamie almost knocking into Sirius in her haste to push past him.

She chuckled at the affronted ‘watch it, Prongs!’ and rose from the bed, meandering over to a bathroom across the narrow hall after asking for direction from Remus.

It was small, with little room to move around, but it was clean and smelled faintly of some plant—eucalyptus, perhaps. But it was the art—more of that beautiful, breathtaking art—that made her stare at the walls with her mouth agape. There were four animals that were recurrent throughout: A great black dog, a huge furry wolf, a large stag with antlers that touched the sky, and a nimble rat that she often found hidden in places least expected.

She had a fairly good idea of what—or who—they were meant to represent.

Feeling a little overwhelmed with the reality of her situation, she turned to the modest, round mirror above the sink.

Her thick red hair was matted over her head, limp-looking and crusted with dirt. There were smudges all over her face and a cut marred the skin near her right temple. There was no recollection as to how she’d gotten it. She grimaced at her reflection, hating the dryness of her lips, the sallowness of her skin.

Unbidden, the horrifying knowledge entered her mind that that was how she’d looked the first time Jamie had found her.

She groaned, embarrassed at the direction her thoughts were taking. 

“Now, now, it’s not all that bad, dear.”

A scream was wrenched from her mouth—louder and more surprised than she would’ve expected. But Lily didn’t think she could be blamed. Because—because—had the mirror just tried to console her?!

Before she’d had a chance to gather her bearings or figure out whether she’d hallucinated the voice, there was a thundering sound from outside the bathroom. “Princess Lily?!” a panicked voice: Jamie's. “Are you okay?! I’m coming in!”

But she didn’t have to unlock the door. It was tugged open so effortlessly that she had to wonder whether she had locked it, to begin with. The thought was pushed from her head, however, when frazzled hazel eyes came into view. She noticed—at a rather inopportune moment—that Jamie stood a good few inches taller than her.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” And then light, gentle fingers were upon her person, turning her around, “are you hurt? I heard you scream.”

“I—”

“What an overreaction, young lady,” the mirror said again, and then proceeded to click its tongue, “screaming at another being is not good manners, you know.”

She sucked in a huge breath, wide green eyes swiveling to Jamie again. She reached out and gripped the woman’s arm in a deathly hold. “Did you hear that? Did you hear the mirror talking? Am I losing my mind?”

But she didn’t get an answer. Instead, Jamie’s entire face was swept over with relief, the stiffness of her limbs deflating into casualness under her very fingers. “Oh. The mirror. Bloody hell, you gave me a right scare.”

She couldn’t help her incredulity. “There is…a talking mirror in your bathroom and I gave you a right scare?”

“I would appreciate not being spoken about as if I’m not able to hear every word,” said the mirror disdainfully.

“Not now, Bertha,” Jamie scolded, as if there was ever a good time for such a complaint from an inanimate object—or what was supposed to be inanimate, at least. Lily suddenly found a simple green cotton dress being closed around her fingers. She looked up to find that Jamie’s stare had softened somewhat, an amused smile on her lips. “Here. Freshen up, and I’ll answer your questions honestly.”

She could hardly do anything but nod.

Right before Jamie stepped outside and closed the door behind her, she heard Sirius’s voice bark down the hall. “What the hell was that noise? Did someone die?!”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When she returned back to the room, decidedly cleaner and refreshed, Jamie was waiting for her, knee jostling violently with nervous energy. She seemed to have been muttering something under her breath, pulling on her chaotic strands and shaking her head quickly as if to clear it.

She all but sprang up from the bed when her eyes landed on Lily. “Hello.”

“Hello.”

“That dress suits you much better than it ever did me.”

She looked down at the fabric, fingers trailing softly over the cloth. It was a little loose around the shoulders and slightly tighter near the hips, but was more comfortable than anything she’d ever owned. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

Jamie shrugged, casually pulling her hair over her left shoulder in an attempt to seem unaffected. But Lily caught the pleased glow that had taken over her face. Hazel met green across the room. “Have you decided if you’re staying?”

“I haven’t,” she replied, “there are things I must know.”

“Then sit, and I will give you all the answers that I can.”

She moved towards the bed, walking around it so that she was closer to where Jamie stood. Behind the woman, a window revealed the first rays of the sun peeking over the forest canopy. She averted her eyes—fear from her recent adventures not erased yet—and found herself looking at a lily in full bloom.

“Who painted these walls?” she asked, “the art is all over the house, as far as I’ve seen.”

Jamie’s dark eyebrows raised, a smirk on her face. “That’s your first question?”

“It’s one I’m most curious about.”

“Do you like them?”

It was the opposite of an answer, but she hummed, stepping closer to the woman so that she’d see the sincerity in her eyes. “They’re the second most magnificent thing I’ve seen in my life.”

A sharp intake of breath. “What’s the first?”

“I was promised the truth,” she replied, feeling strangely clever as she sat down on the bed, heart fluttering madly, “I don’t remember offering any in return.”

Jamie grinned, quick and impressed. “Fair enough. What do you want to know?”

“I think I’ll start with the most obvious—why do you have a magic mirror in your house?”

“That mirror is not the only thing that’s magical here.”

She felt her mouth go dry. “But—but that’s impossible. Magic was wiped out centuries ago. It couldn’t possibly—”

“Couldn’t it?” Jamie interrupted, excitement buzzing around her very being. “You know what we are. You saw that mirror. Do you really still believe everything in the world is what you’ve been taught, princess?”

“Just call me Lily,” she said quickly, and Jamie smiled, “but then how does no one else know? Why is everyone on the other side of the forbidden forest ignorant to such breathtaking possibilities?”

“Not everyone,” Jamie answered slowly, lowering herself onto the bed so that she was facing Lily properly. Her eyes were depths of molten gold and held the promise of everything beautiful in the world. “There are some on the other side who—who know about us, whom we’ve placed our trust in. We get our news about Gryffindale, about the royal family, from them. It’s how we recognized you. Magic has existed in your world always, Lily, and will continue to do so even if it remains hidden behind closed doors.”

“Have you—did you ever live there? Before?”

“Yes. As did Sirius. He’s my brother, in all the ways that matter. After my parents passed, we decided it wouldn’t do to hide our identities anymore. These marks on our bodies—we didn’t want to be ashamed of them anymore.”

Almost instinctively, Lily’s fingers reached out to trace over the glowing print on her arm. Jamie tensed underneath the gentle touch but did not make to pull away. She looked up and found a whirlwind of emotions blazing in her eyes. “And so you escaped.”

“And so we escaped,” Jamie confirmed, voice barely more than a whisper.

“That was very brave of you.”

“I suppose you can understand the feeling—pretending to be someone you’re not—and how it can slowly kill you.”

Lily nodded, tearing her gaze away when the intensity of her words, her eyes, grew too much. Her forefinger continued to trail down the band until faded into the skin of Jamie’s palm. Something caught her notice, and Lily smiled, eyes flashing up again. “It’s you.”

“Pardon?” Jamie’s pulse skittered erratically against her touch.

“You’re the one who made these paintings,” she clarified, smile widening. A drag of her hand, until she could tap meaningfully on Jamie’s fingertips. “There are smudges of fading colors and dried paint all over your fingers and nails.”

“Oh that,” a mumbled response, and she was surprised to see the flush that had stolen over Jamie’s cheeks. For someone who exuded so much confidence and smugness with every toss of the hair, the sudden modesty was exhilarating to watch. “Well. Yes. I just make them when I’m bored.”

“If this is the result of your boredom, I’d like to see you actually try, Prongs.”

She looked pleased at that, shifting slightly closer so that her knee bumped against Lily’s. “Caught that, did you?”

“It suits you,” she nodded, trying to count the number of shades in hazel, “being a stag, I mean.”

“Well, you did say I was magnificent.”

It was her turn to flush; heat shooting up her face in a heartbeat. “I never actually said—”

“Lily,” Jamie interrupted, and the way her name sounded in that moment—gentle, caring, precious, revered—was enough to make the protests die down in her throat. Jamie shifted her hand so that she could slowly interlace their fingers together. She looked up, eyes beautiful and bright and entirely too hopeful. “Will you stay?”

Lily looked down into her lap when she felt tingling warmth run through her veins. Her breath got lost somewhere inside her when she noticed the pattern of delicate vines blooming on her skin from the places Jamie’s fingertips touched her hand. They were ephemeral—greens and blues of buds and stems dissolving into the paleness quickly—but glorious. And she knew, in that moment—she knew she could spend all her life watching Jamie cast more magic over her.

“I will stay.”

[away-from-anthills]

chapter six-

“Sparkthistle! Sparkthistle is missing!”

Antstar bolted upright from sleep as if he had been struck by lightning. He could hear murmurings of confusion outside his den, and turned to see his Clan awake with their newfound discovery. The sky was a beautiful, vivid teal blue made brighter by the storm that preceded it, and the ground was wet from the remnants of rain.

“Sparkthistle is missing?” Antstar asked into the crowd. Goldenpaw came forth and nodded- although her expression was not one of concern but of simple confusion. A small crowd had gathered outside Whitetooth’s den, where the van-patterned cat was soothingly reassuring their Clanmates that they had fallen asleep with her there and woke up to her missing.

Marblepaw, meanwhile, was in the back, her tailtip still shivering, nodding along to every word her mentor said.

Antstar turned to see Russetfoot behind him. “Should I send out a search patrol?” Antstar nodded and watched as the dark red tabby rounded up Adderthorn, Webwhisker, Stoatslink, and Coalpaw in an instant.

He hid, best he could, that he did not want them to find anything.

But after the initial shock, the camp dissolved into disdain. “She probably ran off,” said Sandwhisker. “My father went much the same way. He disagreed with his leader’s choices one too many times, and ran away to Twolegplace from frustration…”

“Personally,” said Talonscar, narrowing their rheumy olive-green eyes, “I’ll be glad if she ran off.”

“Oh, don’t say that!” reprimanded Crowflower.

Cherrycloud stood outside the nursery with Molethroat at her side, confliction across her face.

Figuring it was the best thing to do, Antstar climbed the Tallrock, about to make an announcement about the disappearance in order to settle his Clan down.

His mind felt spacey. Was he forgetting something?

Right- the warrior ceremony for Spiderpaw and her siblings was to be that day! “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey…” He trailed off as he recited the familiar spiel, but it seemed as if his Clanmates understood him as they lined up. He looked behind him to see the distant silhouettes of the search patrol, and then began.

“This morning, Whitetooth discovered that Sparkthistle, who had been in the medicine den last night for kittencough treatment, had gone missing. Russetfoot and I have started a search patrol to find her. Some of you seem to suspect…” His throat felt dry and his head felt like it was filled with helium as his Clan stared him down. “…Some of you seem to suspect that she purposely ran off, or that she wanted to join another Clan. We cannot confirm anything until she is seen again, so please refrain from such gossip.”

“He’s so willing to excuse a cat who did nothing but swear against him,” said Talonscar. Crowflower jabbed them in the rib to get them to quiet down.

“As the search starts, however, Clan life must go on. Provided nothing drastic is found in the search, we will proceed with Spiderpaw, Coalpaw, and Sparrowpaw’s warrior ceremonies this afternoon.”

There was a murmur of agreement. Much to Antstar’s relief, Whitetooth seemed to have had a point. Nobody was particularly missing the ginger molly.

Not too long later, Russetfoot’s patrol came back empty-handed. “We found nothing,” admitted the red tom.

“However,” Webwhisker added with a touch of meekness, “we found the slightest trace of WindClan scent on the gorge near RiverClan.”

For a moment it felt as though a sheet of ice was cutting through Antstar’s lungs.

“So we figured we’d ask RiverClan if we saw anything.”

“We’d likely need you to come along, though, Antstar,” Russetfoot said, gazing into Antstar’s perpetually-wide amber eyes. “While we are friendly with RiverClan, it will do well for us if you explain why we are asking them.”

“Right, then.” Antstar swallowed, making a silent prayer that no RiverClan cat had seen the disposal of Sparkthistle’s body the night before. “Let us go there. Russetfoot, stay behind to keep watch of camp.”

 To Fourtrees and then across the rickety bridge they went, careful to not let its fraying sides splinter them. The familiar, wide-open territory of WindClan seemed to fold away behind them as they were greeted with RiverClan’s reedy grounds and corrals of willows. Smooth rocks embedded into the earth seemed to tower over them, and Antstar had to look twice to ensure no cat was watching them from the peaks. Soon, a large island cut off from the rest of the world by the smooth river became visible through the reeds, and Antstar realized this must be RiverClan’s camp. He had never been here before, but he had heard Shalestar’s deputies complain about having to swim to get to it. Nearly as soon as he had stopped to look it over, though, Stoatslink and Coalpaw had already leapt into the waters, and he had to follow them. He slipped in, the cool summer waters licking at his flank. Something about this water felt positive, gentle; something very much unlike the frightful black current that he had watched Sparkthistle-

No. He couldn’t think about that now. It was a false memory, he told himself. That couldn’t have really happened. Sparkthistle was simply missing, and he would have to aid his Clan in finding her.

Soon, his paws gripped onto the shore of the island, and he pulled himself up before looking back to ensure Adderthorn and Webwhisker would reach the other side. Webwhisker pulled himself out of the water first, and silently motioned an offer to help Adderthorn, but she refused, her gaze far beyond him. She had always been distant like this, even to her own two children, Marblepaw and Twigpaw. Perhaps that was part of what Whitetooth meant when they stood over Marblepaw and-

No, no. It didn’t happen. It was some wild dream, Antstar tried to convince himself. It had to be.

The air hit his nostril, and it was thick with the scents of water, reeds, and freshly-caught fish. It was not nearly as pungent as he had thought it had been- or at least the way gossipy WindClan cats had whispered it was to him as RiverClan strode into the Gatherings.

He was surprised by how freeing it felt- not that he liked the scent, but he had never realized how tired he had been of the smell of WindClan grasses. But before he could take a chance to ponder that, a hiss greeted him, and he looked to see a tortoiseshell molly on the shore confronting Stoatslink.

“Trespassers!” she snarled. She was a rather small specimen for a RiverClan cat- perhaps she shared a common gene with Tulipstar.

“I am Antstar, WindClan leader,” said Antstar, the words feeling rather uncomfortable in his mouth like a grain of sand in an oyster’s maw. “I need to talk to Tulipstar.”

“And you think you can just come onto our territory like that? Show some respect. We may be allies, rabbit-feet, but that doesn’t mean you can just come into our camp on such short notice.” She drew her teeth together to make a ffft sound, but as she did so she backed into a tall tom with brown tabby fur, who Antstar immediately recognized as Trufflepelt, Tulipstar’s slightly-harried deputy. “Let them trespass,” he said. Immediately the tortoiseshell nodded and slinked off into the reeds.

“…Sorry about that. She means well, but she always has a bit of a temper.” He bowed to Antstar. “I will take you to Tulipstar now.” He led them away through the reeds and into camp. The WindClan cats, with their thin bodies and drawn-out faces, looked like kites among kestrels with the RiverClan cats around him. Not only did they live in nearly complete cover from the starlight- something Antstar found deeply unnerving- but their habitat had shaped them completely differently. Where WindClan’s tough, lean prey had rendered the cats thin and hardy, RiverClan cats had grown fat on their diet of fish- an advantage, given the cold waters that often soaked their pelts. Their ears were rounded at the tips, and they often had fur that wasn’t necessarily long so much as it was incredibly thick. Suddenly it made sense to Antstar why they spent so many summer days lounging: their thick pelts and plump bodies couldn’t make the heat easy for them.

“There she is,” said Trufflepelt, pointing his tail over at where the RiverClan leader was talking to a red tabby molly with tufted ears. Her ears twitched with the sense of the WindClan cats’ arrival, and soon she got up to canter over to them. Her small size was accentuated by the rest of RiverClan, who were nearly the size of ThunderClan cats, albeit with less of the muscle.

“Hello, Antstar,” she said kindly. “It is good to see you look well.”

Antstar was a bit surprised to hear he looked well, given he felt as though he hadn’t slept in moons. “Hello, Tulipstar. Good to see the same of you. …Can I talk to you about something?”

The RiverClan leader nodded. Antstar felt something soothing in her presence, rather something of a doting aunt that he never had.

“Last night, one of our warriors was ill with kittencough. Our medicine cat fell asleep with her in the den, and when they woke up, she was gone. We’re wondering if you or your Clanmates have seen her; her name is Sparkthistle. She’s a bright ginger tabby molly, rather skinny, slightly upturned nose, amber eyes…”

Tulipstar thought carefully, clicking her tongue and staring at the ground as if she was trying to summon every word she had heard that day. “I’m sorry, I can’t say we have.”

“Sparkthistle?” snickered the tortoiseshell from earlier, her jade-green eyes aglow. “I fought with her at a Gathering once. Don’t know what was for, and I know you aren’t supposed to pick fights at Gatherings- but man, I totally licked her.”

“Not appropriate, Mossfang,” Tulipstar said slightly bitterly. The tortoiseshell frowned, as if she was a child Tulipstar had put into time-out, and went back to where she had been sharing a small pike with a pale tan tabby tom.

“Here,” said Trufflepelt. “I’ll arrange a patrol. Redfeather, Longsnout, Smokebark, and Willownose.” The red tabby from earlier rose to her feet and padded over, alongside three other experienced-looking cats. Antstar could tell all of them were older than him. If they found Sparkthistle… could they recognize what had happened to her?

“Our friends in WindClan have a missing Clanmate. Could you do a patrol with them to ensure she has not found her way onto our territory?” instructed Trufflepelt. “I shall come along with you.”

Away the ten cats went. Trufflepelt and Antstar sat at the front, Trufflepelt’s pale amber eyes deeply focused at the task at hand compared to Antstar’s floundering ones. Then there was Redfeather, Webwhisker, Stoatslink, and Coalpaw, all exchanging pleasantries as they searched, then the three other RiverClan warriors, and then, in the very back, Adderthorn, who remained completely silent.

“Tell me about Sparkthistle,” asked Redfeather, suddenly pacing up to Antstar. She was a very pretty molly, despite clearly being in middle age. Her face was framed by vivid darker red stripes, and her fur was so dark ginger that it was practically the color of ripe currant.

“Sparkthistle… she’s a very argumentative molly. Always has prickly things to say. Doesn’t get along with anyone, in our Clan or in others. You saw that tortoiseshell in your camp talk about how she had a fight with her once.”

“Ah.” Redfeather nodded sagely. “And you said she was in the medicine den with illness?”

“Kittencough,” said Antstar. “She didn’t seem to believe she had it.”

“Could she have run out and done something just to show she didn’t have it?” “That would sound like something she’d do.”

“My sons would often do that when they were apprentices. If Pebblesky said they were ill and put them to bed, they’d always be found the next morning sneaking out and trying to fish to show how tough they were.” She laughed wistfully. “It never worked, though.”

Antstar nodded along, pretending that he didn’t know she had come to the wrong conclusion.

As they walked, they soon approached the gorge- this time, from RiverClan’s side. While WindClan’s side was a sharp edge, a cliffside; RiverClan’s was more of a slope, and Antstar felt too nervous to approach it in case he lost his footing.

“Could she have fallen into the Gorge?” Smokebark asked in a very matter-of-fact way, after a long pause as they looked into the crashing rivers below.

Another long pause. Antstar felt the silence creep under his pelt.

“…It’s possible.”

They all looked down into the raging currents.

“That’s how one of Redfeather’s sons passed away,” whispered Willownose into Antstar’s ear. “The two of them went out playing by the gorge, and Applepaw tripped and fell in. Squirrelpaw went running in after him. They managed to pull Squirrelpaw out… Applepaw, however, was dead by the time the patrol had found them. We worry about Squirrelface, now. A fine warrior, but he seems to never want to make connections.”

Something vile began to burn in the back of Antstar’s throat as he looked over to see the look of horror on Redfeather’s face as she stared down into the waters.

“… It is a possibility she might have fallen in,” said Antstar, trying to convince himself.

“If we looked in the gorge,” Smokebark continued, “we’d have to do it on our own, with more RiverClan cats. It’s a very dangerous thing. Even the most powerful of leaders would be no match for it on their own.”

“We should look everywhere else first instead,” said Webwhisker. “That way it’s a last resort for you guys.”

They nodded amongst themselves and left, Redfeather shaking her head to get her mind off of the son the gorge had whisked away from her.

They continued on, through the territory, but there was no sign of the WindClan molly- as Antstar knew there would not be. They soon made their way into RiverClan’s camp, and when Tulipstar looked in their direction Antstar and Trufflepelt simply shook their heads.

“No luck?”

“Not a sign of her,” Antstar confirmed.

“I think she might have fallen into the gorge,” Smokebark continued, “but we agreed we’d only look there as a last resort.”

Tulipstar approached Antstar. In the sunlight that glittered through the willow leaves, her white-and-orange pelt only looked all the more vibrant. “I’m sorry you could not find your friend here.”

Friend. Antstar did not have the heart to tell her that couldn’t be more untrue.

“We’ll keep looking on the moors. And-“  -he swallowed- “there’s always the chance she could have run far beyond the Clans altogether.”

And so, the WindClan cats slipped away as Redfeather and Tulipstar watched, through the reeds, through the water, and over the bridge, on the long path home.

 “Was anything found?” asked Russetfoot as soon as the patrol returned, but judging by their distant expressions and the lack of Sparkthistle among them, he had already found his answer. He nodded immediately as Antstar explained- the kindness RiverClan had given them, the lack of WindClan scent on their land, the gorge.

“Ah. I’m sorry. We asked a ShadowClan patrol and the barn cats, but neither said they saw any sign of her.”

However, as Antstar looked upon camp, there was still little distress over Sparkthistle’s fate. Only Cherrycloud seemed to be acting off. Otherwise, while there were murmurs and rumors circling through camp of what might have become of the ginger molly- maybe she ran off to SkyClan, maybe she went to Twolegplace, maybe the bull in the farm pens got her- there was next to nobody that truly seemed to miss her.

For a split moment, Antstar made eye contact with Whitetooth. They looked reassuring, as if they knew all along this was exactly what would happen.

It was fine. It was all working out for the better.

Everything was fine… And he had a warrior ceremony to start.

 “And do you promise to uphold the Warrior Code and protect and defend this Clan… even at the cost of your life?”

Spiderpaw nodded enthusiastically. Antstar had always thought of her as small, as she had been when he had first received her as an apprentice. Only now, as he was about to bestow her warrior name, had he realized she was nearly as tall as him. How much had changed since Shalestar had given her to him, all those moons ago…

“Then, by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Spiderpaw, from this moment on you shall be known as Spiderfoot. StarClan honors your determination and cunning, and we welcome you as a full warrior and moor runner of WindClan.”

The three former apprentices turned towards the Clan, their mentors and their mother Shadeflower looking on with awe.

“I give you Coalclaw, Sparrowpetal, and Spiderfoot!”

“Coalclaw! Sparrowpetal! Spiderfoot!” cheered the Clan. Shadeflower and Houndnose, who had been Sparrowpetal’s mentor, chatted together about Stripedwing’s upcoming litter. Coalclaw was being congratulated by the other tunnelers. And Spiderfoot, her head held high, was bragging to her uncle, Webwhisker, and her grandfather, a tabby elder named Silverbelly. The Sparkthistle matter had been forgotten nearly entirely.

Just as Antstar decided the matter was safely buried away, however, he spotted RiverClan cats on the horizon marching towards camp with urgency in their gait. Trufflepelt was leading them; Redfeather, Smokebark, and Willownose were behind him, the latter two carrying something limp and orange.

Oh, no.

“WindClan!” cried Trufflepelt. The tom was out of breath. Presumably, they had practically sprinted there from RiverClan territory. “WindClan! We found Sparkthistle!”

Immediately the cheer from the apprentice ceremony vanished as the RiverClan warriors slipped into camp through the gorse-lined tunnel. They laid Sparkthistle’s body out before the Clan, who stared before it in a lopsided, shocked way. It had been rendered ragged from the waves, sopping wet, with the once-ginger fur now darkened and muddied, clumping together like windblown grass.

“We’re very sorry to inform you of this, but we found her drowned in the gorge. She had been dead for some time. She was snagged on one of the rocks near the edge of territory.”

“It is most likely she fell in on accident,” added Smokebark, in the methodical way which he always seemed to speak with.

Antstar suddenly felt his heart, which had been rattling around his ribcage, begin to still as there was a murmur throughout the Clan. “She refused my instruction to rest in the medicine den,” said Whitetooth, stepping forward. Their face always looked so still but yet so genuine, like a stone reflecting sunset. The events of the night before felt so distant already. “If she was found in the gorge, she likely went out hunting to try and defy my instruction. She then must have tripped and fallen in, as our RiverClan friends have told us.”

Antstar scanned the clearing. Ironically, it seemed as if nobody was particularly upset. Only Cherrycloud seemed to be struck with an emotion, and the expression on her face wasn’t one Antstar could clearly read. For a split second, the Burmese tom felt his amber eyes wander to Whitetooth, who locked their eyes back. It was as if they were communicating something to Antstar through his mind: I told you there was nothing to worry about.

“We should bury her on the north side,” said Stoatslink, “near the farm.” He was carefully sniffing the body, inspecting; it was like he was not yet fully convinced on her death. The camp began to fill itself with discussions of how they would do the burial, who would be there, and Trufflepelt offered his apologies as the RiverClan patrol slipped away. The cats who had joined WindClan just a scant few days ago seemed unable to comprehend the body before them- they had not dealt with the death as often as their clanborn peers had. The elders, however, seemed to regard Sparkthistle with only the dullest surprise.

Antstar knew he should have felt relieved. In a way, he had. And yet… something gripped at him. If they regarded Sparkthistle with such indifference… if they ever found out his secret, would they regard him the same way?

No, they wouldn’t. He was no murderer. He was simply helping his Clan be unified, peaceful.

But something told him this was not the last time he would have to make such a choice.

 That night, the sky was so clear it felt as if one could jump up into it and be gone. Sparkthistle had been buried at sunset, on the north side of territory. Only Stoatslink and Cherrycloud had chosen to sit vigil for their Clanmate, although Antstar sensed that perhaps more would have joined out of a sense of pity; the sort of pathetic, reluctant pity one would regard a dying adder with; if it had not been for the warrior vigils of Spiderfoot, Sparrowpetal, and Coalclaw.

“Antstar, can I talk to you for a moment?” asked a voice. For a moment, Antstar jumped when he saw an orange molly that looked eerily like Sparkthistle, but he calmed himself when he realized it was simply Cherrycloud. She shared her sister’s bright tabby pelt, and her amber eyes, but she had a softer face, and she smelled of drying kit milk.

“Of course.” Antstar tried his best to look peaceful and solemn, but a raging current was coursing through his nerves. Had she already realized?

“I just… I really want to thank you.” Antstar nearly stumbled back in his seat- partially with relief, partially with bewilderment. “I know the Clan and… my sister… did not get along well. But it means a lot that you sent out those patrols and went to RiverClan.”

“She was one of us,” Antstar said. “I would have done the same with any other Clanmate.”

He had nearly forgotten she was a WindClan cat, in his mind’s attempts to rationalize what he’d done.

“I know she didn’t get along with you particularly well.” Cherrycloud began to walk over to the gorse tunnel, and Antstar followed. “She never really got to connect with me, either, after we were apprentices. I wish I did something back then about how neglected by our mother she was. I just… never found the courage to.”

She looked into the distance. The very last vestige of day was on the tip of the horizon, giving a faint purple glow, but the rest of the sky was as indigo as indigo could be.

“Did she ever talk to you much?”

“…She did, at first. I couldn’t handle her negativity, though, and I had to let go for my own sake. It was right around when Molethroat and I fell in love that she stopped trying entirely. I think she envied me for it. I remember she had always wanted a mate. …She never visited our kits. I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.”

Antstar looked back to the nursery, where Houndnose was trying to wrangle Rosekit and Amberkit. Only now that he had ruminated on the two sisters- and seen Sparkthistle’s look of horror as death overtook her- did he notice her resemblance in them. Amberkit had her eyes, Rosekit had her ears…

“I guess that’s what I’m mourning. Not her, necessarily- oftentimes she just made my days worse. But… the opportunity she could have had. I wish she had had the time to sort herself out and adjust.”

At first, Antstar felt the guilt was going to gnaw through him so hard that his liver would be torn in two. But then he remembered Whitetooth’s words: And Sparkthistle is never going to get better, either.

The tragedy here, Antstar decided, was not that Cherrycloud’s sister never got time. It was that Cherrycloud had expected a fantasy that would simply never come, like waiting for a stone to sprout flower buds. Sparkthistle was not going to change. If anything, she could have gotten much worse. It was a tragedy. It had to be. But leadership, if nothing else, was a chain of little tragedies.

“…Sorry for rambling,” she added.

“No, no- don’t be sorry.”

“I just… it’s hard for me to know how I feel about it, I guess. But being a mother grants me some peace about it. It feels like I can stop it from happening all over again. Brindlekit in particular reminds me so much of her better qualities.” She trotted away, toward the nursery, where Antstar could see the reflections of her kits’ eyes glow back at him in the dark.

“You should come visit the kits, sometime. They love you.” And with that she slipped into the nursery, and the faint chattering of her children became whispers in the night’s air.

He’d never think about this again, he decided. The only time he would allow Sparkthistle to occupy his head once more was when he would announce her passing at the Gathering. There was no need to continue to ponder it.

It was over now. And Antstar hoped that he could approach leadership, from this point on, with a fresh mind.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine:

Warnings: Smut, fluff, quarantine bae

This is a short imagine, Enjoy!

“Goodmorning!!”

Y/N walks into the Physical Therapy office with a glow that could put the sun to shame and a bright white smile that lit up her face like Christmas lights. She sanitized her hands at the front desk before walking further into the office, saying Goodmorning to Miss Kim who usually doesn’t speak but Y/N’s chipper attitude must have rubbed off on her. Y/N looks up and notices a sign posted on the desk window saying:

Please Wash Your Hands Before Checking In For Your Appointment!

“Let’s see if our patients actually abide by that today,” Y/N was thankful that the place was empty for now. All of the exam room curtains were drawn and the exercise equipment sat neatly in a corner. Y/N made it to the check in desk for appointments, walking around and dropping her purse on the empty chair beside her. Humming, Y/N takes off her windbreaker jacket, fluffing out her braid-out. She has on a scrub set with flowers on the top in pretty spring colors.

Y/N jumps straight into work, placing the clipboard for signing in at the top of the desk. There were medical files for the patients that were scheduled to come in today neatly piled in front of her. They were expecting at least 20 people. Some came for therapy because of a motor vehicle accident, others because of work related injuries. Sanitizing again, Y/N takes her seat, sighing because her legs felt like jello and her ankles reminded her of Bambi taking his first steps.

The reason for her happiness and muscle spasms is because of her man; Erik. Being home for the past two weeks meant two times the dick she was already receiving. She woke up with an attitude because he left the toilet seat up and basically used up all of her exfoliating scrub that she used for her pum-pum. In the middle of his snoring, Y/N barged back into the room, water dripping from her brown skin with her shower cap on her head. She picked up her pillow and started beating Erik out of his sleep....

Hour and a half ago:

“Get yo’ ass up!” Y/N yelled like a mad women while beating Erik with her pillow, “GET UP!”

Erik simply rolled over on his belly. All she could see now was his durag and muscular back.

“You think I’m playing,” Y/N yanked the covers from his body exposing his Under Armour briefs in navy blue. Y/N starts whipping Erik’s ass with her tiny hand. Erik’s hips start swiveling from side to side. He grunts angrily, his hand coming up and behind him to roughly smack her hand away.

“Erik GET UP! Why did you use up half of my exfoliating scrub?! I just bought this stuff and it ain’t cheap!”

“Girl...you waking me up out of my sleep because of some scrub?” Erik flips his body over to lay on his back. Rubbing his eyes, Erik mumbles to himself before completely sitting up. Bags under his eyes and a scowl on his face, Erik shakes his head at her, using all of his restraint to not grab Y/N up off her feet.

“That scrub, I spent my money on. I have to go to work I’m already frustrated that they have these offices open with this virus going around and here you go pissing me off further,” Y/N throws her hands up, ready to walk away but then she remembered the toilet seat, “And another thing, what’s your problem with closing the toilet? I don’t want my ass falling in the toilet, Erik.”

“Did you close it?” He asks with a glint in his eyes and a groggy voice.

“Yes, I did, what’s your point?”

“Then it shouldn’t be a big deal. You went pee-pee, get over it,” Erik fell back in bed, bringing the covers to his chin, “All loud for nothing I’m TIRED. Take that noise somewhere else.”

“Fucking asshole,” Y/N lifts her leg to the bed, kicking Erik hard. Erik sat up again, his pectorals jumping and his biceps flexed and ready to attack. Y/N stood her ground, unbothered with Erik’s wrathful expression.

“Kick me again. Gon’ head...”

“Erik, I don’t have time for this-“

“Oh, no, you do. The time you spent in here yelling at me your shower could have been finished. Just hurry up and get the fuck outta here so I can sleep.”

“Just know, I’m not making that baked Mac and cheese for you tonight!”

“You’re so simple acting! Damn,” Erik covers his head with a pillow. Things were silent for only two seconds before Erik removes the pillow from his face, sitting up in bed again. Fuming, Erik kicks the covers from his body like a child having a temper tantrum, getting out of the bed and heading toward the bathroom.

“See, look what you did, girl! Now I gotta piss!” Hot-tempered, Erik lifts the toilet seat Damn near breaking it, “I should take a shit too have this whole bathroom lit up while you’re in there!”

“Erik, DONT play with me. I don’t need to be smelling your toxic fumes,” Y/N was in the middle of cleaning her pussy, “Wait a minute...”

Y/N pulls the shower curtain back, peeking her head out with a disgusted look on her face. Erik simply laughs, a good hearty laugh with his hand clutching his chest.

“Did you just fart?” Y/N says while cover her nose.

“Duh, I ain’t shit on myself,” Erik flushes the toilet, going to the sink to wash his hands and brush his teeth, “finish washing up, funky butt.”

“I’m not the one with the funky ass, smelling like you ate a whole can of beans-“

“Aight, then scoot over I’m coming in-“

“NO!” Y/N shouts, “No, I don’t want you in here I’m still pissed with you.”

“Girl, get over that shit,” Erik takes off his briefs, “I’m getting in there fuck you talking bout.”

“UGHHH,” Y/N rinses her body off, trying to ignore Erik’s rock hard body pressed against hers.

Of course, Erik couldn’t help himself when his hand came down to smack Y/N’s ass, “Get loud on me again and ima fuck you up.”

“Erik move back and take a shower,” Y/N rolled her eyes, “When you going back to work?”

Erik howled, his laugh so loud in Y/N’s war she clinched.

“I’m getting on your nerves that much, Damn...you wasn’t saying all of that when I fucked you all those times.”

“I know, I’m still questioning my morals-“

“Then as soon as I do go back to work you’ll start acting up again apologizing in my ear about why you’re acting the way you are,” Erik leans down to speak into Y/N’s ear, “I’m sorry baby, I just miss the dick,” He says trying to mock her voice.

Y/N stood quiet, no response because she knew he was right. She wanted to be mad at him so much but that’s her baby. Erik smiles evilly at her reaching down to grab her chin, turning her head in an uncomfortable position since her back was turned to him.

“You dont acting up?”

“But I was never-“

“You done?” Erik repeats himself.

“.....yeah.”

“Pass me my soap...get in that bedroom and arch your back I want some pussy.”

“Babe,” Y/N says with a pout.

“Take your lil ass in there!”

“Okay but why are you yelling?” Y/N was ready to give him more attitude but she changed her mind at high-speed when she saw the fiery look in his eyes. Y/N left the shower, not even bothering to dry off. She arched her body on the edge of the bed, little booty tooted in the air, cool air on her pussy.

“This nigga is about to destroy my whole body,” Y/N says to herself, waiting patiently with her chin resting on her folded arms, eyes studying the pattern of the sheets on their bed. Y/N couldn’t complain, she finally got Erik to be consistent after dealing with his “I don’t do relationships” mess. Consistency will get Y/N to give her pussy up whenever he said so. Consistency will get his dick sucked like it was dipped in chocolate.

Just when Y/N was daydreaming, the feeling of her pussy being licked from the back down knocked her senseless. Erik was enjoying his meal while jerking his dick. His noxious tongue thrashing almost stroked Y/N unconscious. He was eating her like he hadn’t eaten all quarantine. His belly would be gratefully filled with her syrupy essence.

Erik squeezes Y/N’s smaller yet round booty, before spitting on her pussy from the back, leaning back to admire his canvas, “I plan on smashing these lil cakes to smitherines, girl,” Erik went back to licking her up.

“Aight, bae, you gotta stop,” Y/N couldn’t handle his tongue so early in the morning. Her thighs started to close but Erik held them open while using the strength of his neck to eat her pussy.

Y/N’s hand found the top of Erik’s head. She mushes him away, her body slacken. Erik hit her ass for moving his head away, “Ima give you a nasty ass slow kiss when I’m finished so you can taste how good this pussy taste...don’t mush me again, Y/N.”

“Fuck!” Y/N didn’t listen, her body twisting and her hand swiping the air. Erik was purposefully scooting his head away while torturing her clit with his sucking.

“Okay, ZADDY SHIT!” Y/N tried to stay still but the way he was slurping all over her pussy made that unfeasible, “SHIT! I wanna tap out...”

“Uh-uh,” Erik wasn’t letting go.

“Okay...okay...fuckkkkkkkk...let go of my clit MOTHERFUCKER!!!!! GODDD!!!!”

Y/N started shaking, crying, squealing. Erik’s hands wrapped around her thighs, keeping her in place so he could continue sucking the life out of her clit. When she was finished feeding Erik her cum, Erik’s wet face reappears.

“Got you out of your lil mood, didn’t I?” Erik and his hard ten inches were ready to impale Y/N’s dripping cunt, “Come on girl, toot that ass up I’m tryna get in there.”

“Daddy just shut up and fuck me now because I know I’m not gonna be able to walk after this-“

“Then toot that motherfucking ass UP. You know the drill, get in position.”

Y/N arched her back more, breathing slow as she waited with anticipation. Erik didn’t warn her when he was about to stuff his dick inside of her pussy when he was trying to punish her. Squeezing her hands into fists, Y/N waited as her pussy convulsed.

“Babe-���

Erik purposely waited for her to speak so that he could put all of him inside of her. Y/N’s entire body crawled away from him, his dick leaving her pussy. Erik grabbed her ankles, pulling her back with force. Y/N was slapping Erik’s hands away but he was stronger. Each time she tried to crawl away Erik would drag her back like she was a damn doll.

“Where you going? Don’t run,” Erik held Y/N’s hips in place his dick back inside of her pussy like it never left. Maybe it was because it was early in the morning but she couldn’t take his back shots. His dick was constantly stroking her G spot and he was so deep that Y/N could feel it in her chest. Y/N was talking mad shit so now Erik had to show out in her pussy. Erik was beating up Y/N’s pussy. Long, hard, and deep strokes. Erik leans forward, one of his hands on her head while his hips stroked her pussy at a tempo Y/N knew was meant for her to be made an example of.

“Okay,” Y/N felt herself read to cum already. Erik’s hand on her head to hold her in place was so deathly Y/N kept her mouth shut the rest of the time. Her lips trembled and her eyes leaves hot tears from the way he bruised her G spot.

“Stay crying for big dick but wanna run from it,” Erik says calling her out, “You don’t get to run this is what you ask for.”

Y/N wanted to say she didn’t ask for this but her body was saying other wise. The intensity of the sensation was so overwhelming she didn’t care that he ordered her to arch her back. Now, her pussy was creaming. Erik was juicing her peach. She felt the wettest out of all the times they had sex. Maybe it was because he was the angriest he’s ever been. Maybe Y/N should act like a brat or a bitch more for him to fuck her like this.

“Lil booty freak taking Daddy beating this nut deep inside your pussy from the back...laying there letting Daddy take this pussy...Lil ass like it when Daddy bring this pussy back hard on this dick, huh?”

“Oh my God-“

“Just keep still while I drill this nut deep...fuckkkkkk...I can see now yo’ ass Gon’ end up with a baby growing in you with all this fucking. Can’t even count how many times my nut been up in this tight ass pussy.”

“Daddy, oh my God-“

“I don’t care either I’m nutting all in this pussy-“

“Unh, shittttt...fuck me!”

“I got you-“

“Take this sweet little pussy-“

“I’m taking my sweet little pussy”

Y/N screamed.

“Got that pussy hitting right with that ass matching these strokes...ahhhh fuck, hold still I’m about to nut....

“Wassup itty-bitty!”

Y/N sat up nice and tall after being brought out of her daydream. Clarence, one of the other Physical Therapists was nibbling on an orange while standing next to her. He peeked over her shoulder, seeing if she was occupied with something since he called her like five times.

“You Aight over here?”

“...yeah,” Y/N looked over the desk to find two patients waiting to be seen, “Did they just come in?”

“Yeah, a little after I did.”

Y/N noticed both patients. One was a middle aged women who was involved in a pedestrian accident with a car. She was jogging when a car backed up and hit her. The other patient was a young women around early 20’s who had severe back pains from a bus accident.

“I like your scrubs,” Clarence says while studying the floral patterns.

“Thanks,” Y/N gives Clarence a smile. Clarence smiles back, sure to show off his dimples just like her man except Clarence doesn’t have deep dimples. He’s 6’0, and from Ghana. All of the ladies loved Clarence. Y/N knew that he was feeling her even when she told him on multiple occasions that she has a man. His persistence wouldn’t let up.

———-

Things were steady and getting the patients in and out was a breeze. Y/N’s belly was currently growling and she instantly wished she’d at least brought in a snack to hold her over. Y/N planned on buying lunch from a carry out within the shopping center of the office. It was the perfect time to go grab something to eat before patients start piling up again. Clarence is currently wiping down a room that was recently used.

“Still with that boyfriend, Y/N?” He asks casually while spraying down an exam table. He asked her like he wanted to know what the weather was like. Y/N dreaded the day he would ask her that again.

“Yes, Clarence,” Y/N chuckles, “And I don’t plan on leaving him.”

“Why hasn’t he put a ring on your finger yet? It’s hard to find good girls like you. What is waiting on?”

“There is no rush,” Y/N grabs a pen to finish writing information into a patients report. Just before she could close her file, Y/N’s phone vibrated. Glancing at it, Y/N could see that Erik was currently sending her texts.

I’m bored

Well do something productive like reading a book instead of playing video games.

Just when Y/N flips her phone over so she could go back to work, another text comes through, most likely from Erik again.

I’m about to call you.

Before Y/N could tell him anything otherwise Erik was FaceTiming her. Y/N rolls her brown eyes before answering the FaceTime. Clarence was talking to another coworker of there’s so Y/N didn’t need to worry about anyone eavesdropping. Y/N answers the FaceTime, her heart fluttering because of the dick down Erik gave her before work. Staring at the screen, Erik was still in his sleep wear with a durag on his head. His controller was in his lap and from the pout on his lips and the puppy dog eyes Y/N could tell that being cooped up in the house and away from Y/N for at least three more hours is killing him.

“Ooooh, I like you’re hair, Miss lady, can I pull it from behind?”

Y/N looked around her to make sure no one heard it, “Yes, You can ZADDY. Just as long as you’re gentle this time around. I like tender love and care too.”

“So you rather go oooh and ahhhh then Unh and Fuck when you’re crying and drooling and begging to cum-“

“Erik, SHHHHHH,” Y/N tried not to laugh, “Babe, it may be dead at this place right now but I am on the clock.”

“My bad, ma-“

“Itty-bitty, lets go get some lunch,” Clarence stood at the desk like a patient waiting to be checked in. She hadn’t heard his footsteps and honestly she wished she did.

“...Who?” Erik says through the FaceTime, his face all scrunched up with confusion.

“Is that the boyfriend?” Clarence brings his face into the camera, “sup’ boyfriend, I’m Clarence.”

Erik was stone faced looking at Terrence. Y/N was holding her breath, unable to look at her phone because she knew her man was pissed off.

“Who is itty-bitty?” Erik finally says. Clarence caught wind of his abrasive tone, backing away from the camera, “Just a nickname, brother, my fault.”

“Only nigga giving my girl a nickname is me.”

Y/N cleared her throat loudly, “Okay, babe! I’ll talk to you when I get home, okay? Love you,” Y/N gave Erik smooches, not sticking around to hear him argue before hanging up.

“Damn, yo’ man is nothing but a hot- head-“

“And you don’t know when to sit back. I was on the phone with my man, if I wanted your attention, I could have gotten it.”

“Chill, itty-bitty,” Clarence was tickled by how bothered Erik was, “Shit, he ain’t playing about you is he?”

Y/N flat out ignores Clarence, standing up from the desk and grabbing her bag. While Clarence laughed and joked about Erik Y/N pumped hand sanitizer into her hand before walking off. In her scrub top pocket her phone was going off the hook. Y/N knew not to ignore his constant texts. Y/N pulled out her phone, her heart in her throat

Do I gotta come up there?

Who the fuck is that nigga?

Don’t let no other nigga put his face in your phone again. That’s disrespectful.

Y/N answer my texts. Do I gotta come up there?

The fuck is itty bitty? I don’t like that shit.

Panicky, Y/N calls Erik before exiting the office.

“Babe?” Y/N says with caution.

“Don’t babe me. Who the fuck is Clarence?”

“My coworker-“

“Where are you?”

Y/N chewed on her bottom lip nervously, “Erik...why?”

“Because I’m coming up there. And what’s up with this itty bitty shit? You let him call you that?”

“I don’t he just does it-“

“You need to correct that nigga, matter of fact-“

Y/N could hear Erik moving around in the background, probably putting on his jordans uncaring of the fact that he was wearing loose fitted basketball shorts with his dick swinging.

“Babe, I know you’re not coming up here to my job,” Y/N says with a shaky voice, “Babe stay home.”

“Nah, I’m coming up there. He gon’ need physical therapy once I’m done breaking his goddamn limbs don’t nobody fuck with mines.”

“Erik, chill-“

“I call you nicknames, Y/N. I can tell that nigga was peeking so he could see what his competition looking like. Then, you’re there with him for 8 hours...all close to you, smelling how sweet you smell, making you smile, listening to your voice...”

“Erik, are you jealous of Clarence?”

“Jealous? Of that nigga? TEH,” Erik could be heard closing a door, “I’m not jealous, I’m territorial. Jealous is when you want something that’s not yours. Territorial is protecting what’s already yours.”

Y/N stood quiet, a smile fighting to form on her lips.

“My babe, is my babe. Therefore, don’t look, touch, wink, wave, stare, flirt, compliment, hold, anything that’s my job.”

“Babe, pleaseeeee don’t come up here because I know how you can get. Don’t be so upset about this fuck Clarence-“

“The reason I get mad is because I know exactly what they’re trying to do, I’m a man, I know. It’s not because I don’t trust you...I’m on my way.”

“Erik-“

“I’ll see you when I get there.”

Click

Y/N was reluctant to go back inside her job now. She only lived ten minutes away if she drove. Erik is a reckless driver who weaves in and out of lanes. He would probably do 70 MPH to get to her job. Y/N decided to wait for him instead of going back inside so she could bribe him with a shrimp cheese steak sub and save Clarence from an ass whipping.

———

Pulling up in an all black Mercedes-AMG in the hood was a risky thing to do but that was the least of Erik’s worries.

“Nah, let me put this heat away,” Erik places his chrome gold pistol in the glove department. He didn’t want to make Clarence shit himself and Erik didn’t use his gun for play. It’s not like he didn’t think about doing it though. Erik is very protective over Y/N. Still pissed off, Erik gets out of his SUV, securing it afterwards and pocketing his keys. The thought of Clarence all close to his girl calling her a nickname had Erik’s blood boiling over.

Sure enough, Erik did leave the house in a pair of black basketball shorts with his dick free. His crisp white T-shirt, gold chains, and black durag has all the hood girls that were leaving the hair store doing a double-take when he walked by. Y/N is still standing outside of her job, a male security for the shopping center talking her head off. When she spotted her boyfriend’s usual bop in her peripheral, Y/N lifted her back from the wall, a big beautiful smile on her face to distract Erik because he couldn’t resist her smile.

“Hey babe,” Y/N called out to him, the security dude looking towards the direction of who Y/N was referring to. Erik and him locked eyes. Erik squinted his with suspicion, ready to call out the security but he got the hint before Erik could even say anything.

“Aight, sweetheart, you be safe out here,” He walks away before Erik even approached. Of course, Erik’s anger piqued when he saw another man talking to Y/N. Finally within her space, Erik gave the security dude one final death look before looking down at his girl.

“Niggas getting real comfortable around you, I can understand, because you’re fine ass fuck but I don’t like this shit. Looks like I gotta beat the shit out of every nigga up here in this goddamn shopping center-“

“Erik...baby...daddy,” Y/N made her voice all sultry and low, blinking her lashes at him. She rubs his chest, talking to her in that low sweet voice that had him hard and ready to fuck in minutes.

“Don’t do that, I’m mad right now...Why are you waiting for me outside? I wanted to make a grand entrance into your job. That nigga wanna put his face in my girl phone let’s see if he try that shit now,” Erik doubles back to open the door to enter the Physical Theray Office but Y/N stops him.

Y/N rolls her eyes, “I was just about to head to lunch, want something to eat?”

Erik’s eyes swept over Y/N’s work attire, “Nah, I wanna meet Clarence...let go of me, girl.”

“Baby,” Y/N made her voice soft again, “You’d rather pick a fight with someone I don’t give two fucks about than spend time with me? I can get you a foot long shrimp cheese steak with everything and some fries with hot sauce and ketchup.”

Erik rolls his eyes, bringing his left hand to rub his belly, “I am hungry. Didn’t eat since this morning.”

“Let’s go then-“

“Itty- what’s up?” Clarences exited the office with another coworker, some new young girl who did clerical work. Y/N was sure that Clarence was fucking the girl with the way she was pressed up against his back giving him googly eyes. That itty didn’t fall on deaf ears. Erik was in full on attack mode before Y/N could even stop him.

“Clarence, right?” Erik approaches him, “You got a problem with staying in your lane, bruh. I’m sure my girl told you already that she got a man. Now...I came all the way up here to put my hands on you but I ain’t even about to do that,” Erik turns, grabbing Y/N, “This girl right here, she’s mines. Whatever goes down at work she’ll tell me, and then I’ll pull up and put my hands on you...do you understand what I’m saying Clarence? So this is a warning. Figured I should come up here so you know I’m serious.”

“Man,” Clarence laughs in Erik’s face. Y/N could tell by the way his hands shook that he was scared to death of Erik. Clarence wanted to appear unbothered while the young girl behind him watched, “You wasted your time coming all the way up here. That’s yours, cool, I don’t want no problems.”

“You got a habit of laughing at shit that ain’t funny.”

Y/N knew that Clarence was provoking Erik. People within the shopping center started paying attention to them and now Y/N was afraid that Erik will end up bashing Clarence’s face in.

“Erik, the food, remember?” Y/N wrapped her arm around Erik’s bicep, “Let’s go,” she was up on her tiptoes, placing a soft kiss to Erik’s cheek.

“Remember what I said-“

Clarence cuts Erik off, “No need to repeat yourself over and over-“

“I’ll repeat myself however many time I need to...this lame ass nigga man-“

“Lame?! I’m not the one out here acting a fool over a chick who ain’t even all that-“

Erik’s first cocked back swiftly. Y/N didn’t see it coming. Frozen with fear Y/N covered her mouth in shock. Clarence stumbled and flinched, hands coming up in surrender.

“Look at you, weak as fuck,” Erik’s fist was centimeters away from hitting Clarence. Erik wanted to shake Clarence up. If he wanted to hit him, he could have stomped all over him until he was a bloody pulp but the thought of Y/N’s job being jeopardized stopped him. Clarence peeked at Erik through his fingers, slowly backing away before straightening his body.

“I would have bloodied you up but my girl needs her job. Doesn’t mean if I see you I won’t fuck you up. Don’t you ever disrespect my girl like that. I bet you learned your lesson today, didn’t you?”

Y/N shared a look with the young girl she worked with, noticing how turned off she was when Clarence cowarded away. She wrenched her eyes away, yanking on Erik’s arm to get his attention.

“Babe, I think he heard you, let’s go before some shit pops off.”

“...I’m coming, baby girl,” intensely, Erik gives Clarence one final look before wrapping his arm around Y/N’s shoulder, “Aight Clarence, I hope you and your child have a good rest of your day.”

Erik!”

“Nah, that laughing shit got me hot, then this nigga had the nerve to get big on me...kiss me before I turn around and put his ass in the ground, he don’t know, I’m really a cold-blooded killer.”

Y/N grabs his chin to make him look at her before they walked inside of the carry out. Erik was being stubborn, trying to look everywhere else but at her face. Clarence and the young clerical worker were too busy flirting and avoiding coming anywhere near Y/N and Erik.

“Aye, you missed me?”

Erik kisses his teeth, “what you think?”

“Nah, I want you to tell me,” Y/N wrapped her arms around Erik’s waist.

Erik’s lips twisted up to fight a smile. The outraged look in his eyes seemed to clear and now they were affectionate and soft like Y/N loved.

“...yeah, I missed you.”

“Okay. If you missed me then let’s enjoy lunch and then I can clock out early and we can go home. I don’t want you all worked up over this bullshit. He ain’t got all of this, you do.”

“Damn right I do,” Erik pulled Y/N closer to his body, his hands coming down and around to grab her ass, “all of this is mines-“

“Okay, baby,” Y/N didn’t want to get Erik too worked up since they were in public. Y/N slipped away from his firm grip to open the door. When she walked in, there was a Latino couple with N-95 masks on. Y/N and Erik sanitized there hands with some wipes that she carried with her everywhere before walking towards the front to order food.

“Miss Y/N! How are you? Same thing as usual?”

“Hello Mr. Dean,” Y/N avoided touching any surfaces and Erik lingered behind her, “Yes same thing for me, a shrimp salad sandwich and for him he’ll have a shrimp cheese steak with fries.”

“Foot long or half?”

“Foot long, and can you add extra cheese and lettuce to that please?” Erik says over Y/N’s shoulder.

“Of course, anything else?

“Two kiwi strawberry Mistic’s for me, how about you baby girl?”

“I’ll just have water I’m not in the mood for anything sweet.”

“Yeah, cuz you’re already sweet enough,” Erik bites his lip all tantalizing while his hands caresses her butt.”

“Daddy, chill, wait until we get home-“

“You mean wait until we get in the car?

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Code: Light

Part of my Series based on the in game dungeons lol. Just for fun.

In fact… there was a boy who lived here… 20 years ago…

The words echoed in Lu Mingfei’s mind as he looked over the rundown landscape in front of him. He was sitting on a dirty pillow on a broken, rotted out porch, rain pouring down on his head through the holes in the overhang. Spiders skittered about and made him pull his feet in. In front of him was a table of rice, vegetables and tea. Outside the porch was a small garden with a pond, green and overgrown with algae. It was pouring down rain as it had been all day. The pond was at capacity and it would soon overflow its banks. From the gloomy surroundings, frogs creeled out a constant serenade.

He was led there by a woman, an elder in that particular village, who had first reported what turned out to be dragon activity in this small town. Lu Mingfei, Chu Zihang, and Caesar Gattuso were called to investigate. According to the report on the dossier, a young child in a red coat, carrying a red balloon could be seen standing at the edge of the village. His face was impossible to make out. Japanese towns could be full of local ghost tales, but this one occurred with disturbing regularity. EVA, the Cassell Supercomputer then detected an elemental anomaly. Plants seemed to be growing at such an incredible rate, that the rain clouds over this small area of Japan never seemed to stop. The rain would fall, the plants would soak it up and transpire the water again. It was as if the Amazon Rainforest took up residence in the far East.

After explaining about the child, the old woman took them out to that ramshackle ruin of a place. “If it’s that boy you’re seeking, why not try making him something to eat?”

Then she left.

“Guys I’m so over this ghost hunt. This is so creepy and the lower the sun gets the more I want to leave.” He said. He was wearing his usual combat suit, that skin tight but extremely durable wear that was close enough to the body to avoid catching on anything, but strong enough to withstand the cut of a knife. But was it ghost proof? Who was to say they wouldn’t get eaten by this ghost and the rice be left cold and moldy with no sign of them?

“Are you excited to be on an actual ghost hunt? It’s a shame that the ghost is a boy though.” Caesar sat smoking his cigar and looking out over the grey sheet of rain in front of him. He was dressed similarly, with his Desert Eagles at his side. Of course, he made a much more handsome figure in the muscle-hugging suit.

Lu Mingfei wanted to pull his hair out. “You’re engaged! Don’t lust after the dead you freak!”

Chu Zihang slid his sword part way out of his sheath to check his equipment. “There’s no such thing as the dead coming back to life, unless it’s a dragon. And dragons don’t really die. They just sleep until they can be reborn. What we’re looking for is not a real ghost… but something that has the properties of a dragon.”

“Ghost… dragon… whatever. Do we even know if it’s attracted to rice?”

“It’s not about the rice, Lu Mingfei, it’s the routine. If the boy had a family or cared for anyone at all, wouldn’t it miss sitting at a table with a family meal?” Caesar bit his cigar, 

“And we’re supposed to be its family huh? Who are you? The mom?” Mingfei shot back.

“Well…” Caesar looked down at the food. “I cooked it.”

Lu Mingfei opened his mouth to say something else but Zihang suddenly tensed. His golden eyes stared into another pair of golden eyes. A boy in a red raincoat, stood at the edge of the mossy pond. He was holding a red balloon. Only those glowing eyes were visible under the red hood. It didn’t seem to have a face.

Lu Mingfei’s face went white and then grey with terror. He shook so hard his teeth chattered “G-ghost!”

A small child’s voice echoed clear despite the pounding rain. “Outsiders. I need your help. Come with me.”

The rain suddenly stopped but the sky grew darker, like a great shadow from something large coming over head. The air suddenly cooled. They were still in front of the table but the garden was replaced by sand. The sand was grooved in artistic circles, like an elegant Japanese rock garden. Looking around, they seemed to be in a ruined ancient village. The piece of land they were standing on was floating in mid air, like it had been torn from the earth. There was no sun. The way was lit by ominous paper lanterns that floated in place, painted with a red swirl pattern. In the distance an ancient Japanese castle tower rose out of the misty horizon.

Torii gates were seen floating in the grey, foggy surroundings. Most were shattered. They seemed frozen in the middle of being demolished, their broken pieces spraying at odd angles, their elegant cross bars tilted, but they never collapsed. 

What was most noticeable about this place however, was the sudden sense of crushing sorrow. The feeling one got when they received some sort of horrible news. Like a loved one had just died. It hit Mingfei in the chest and took his breath away.  “Guys. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to …” Mingfei eyes filled with tears. “What’s happening. I’m so scared.” He hugged his own arms and tried to stop the tears from falling. “We’ve got to get out!” 

He turned to Chu Zihang who always knew what to do in times like this. But the man was frozen, his jaw tense and locked, staring at the ground in a trance, trying to control his out of control emotions. He was breathing fast and trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

Apparently, sorrow drove Caesar Gattuso to action. He drew Dictator and pointed it up towards some broken stairs framed by a bright red Torii gate. Caesar suddenly roared. “This place sucks! Let’s get out of here as soon as we can. The only way out is up!”

His sudden yell seemed to break whatever emotional spell had been cast on the other two teammates. Lu Mingfei wiped his face. “What was that all about?”

“I’m not sure. Likely the owner of this place had a terrible life.” Chu Zihang said gravely. “I’ve heard of Longwei, the natural fear that dragons give off to other creatures, but I’ve never heard of a Dragon’s sorrow being projected like this.”

The stairs were floating over empty air, made of uneven, ancient grey limestone. There were dozens of stairs leading up into the ominous grey sky with broken Torii gates at intervals every twenty steps. Chu Zihang held up his hand to catch what appeared to be snow flying in the air. He sniffed at it. “Ash. Like something is burning. This must be some sort of Nibelungen. But I’ve never seen anything like it.” Chu Zihang said. “We should watch out. Where there’s a Nibelungen, there’s always…”

A sudden loud screeching interrupted him. A flock of bats the size of geese suddenly dislodged from under the stairs.  A whole flock of them swept forward in a single black cloud mass. Lu Mingfei ducked his head as the claws and teeth scraped at him. “I hate this place already!”

Caesar drew his pistols and fired. The bats were flapping and tilting and whirling, but he just needed to aim for just a moment before shooting one out of the air without missing. Likewise, Chu Zihang quickly slashed once and twice, neatly severing their bodies in two without trouble.

“Bats are better than snakes!” Caesar yelled, reloading his Desert Eagles.

“At least Snakes don’t fly!” Lu Mingfei yelled.

 As they climbed the stairs, they stayed back to the back, firing and slicing through the endless swarm of screaming bats. The sound of it was like a constant siren. Mingfei held his hands to his ears and allowed himself to be shielded by his two older students. He could hardly see anything between the endless assault of black bodies.

Caesar’s eyes glowed yellow. “There’s something big at the top of the stairs. That’s where they’re coming from!” He had sent out his Scythe Itachi and they returned with a huge heartbeat up ahead. “Chu Zihang, get rid of these things!”

“Get down.”  Chu Zihang closed his eyes for just a moment and then an evil snarl emanated from his throat. Black waves of heat drove back the bats and then exploded outward into violent flames. The bats were instantly set alight and hundreds of burning bodies folded their wings and fell into the endless pit below. Lu Mingfei didn’t even want to think of what it meant to fall down into that grey void. Would he just continue to fall forever?

“Eugh…” Caesar pinched his nose to escape the smell of burning flesh and hair.  “Good.” He said, reaching down at pulling Mingfei to his feet.

A loud roar shook the stairs and cracked them.  Then the stairs started to crumble, starting from the bottom. If they didn’t hurry, they would be the ones falling. “Run! Run!” Caesar yelled. 

Ahead of them was a large gap. The stairs were falling apart around them, coming to pieces, like the mortar that held them together suddenly lost all its strength. “We’ll have to jump it!”

It looked to be ten feet across over the nothingness. They’d never make a jump that far. But it was either try to jump or fall to their deaths anyway. Chu Zihang suddenly grabbed Lu Mingfei’s arm and without explanation took a leap and dragged him with him. For a moment, there was nothing but empty air under him. And then a sudden blast of heat and a loud boom! Chu Zihang used Royal Fire to blast himself over the gap, dragging the terrified Lu Mingfei the extra few feet needed. They landed and Lu Mingfei collapsed on shaky legs. “Are you out of your mind? You could have at least told me!” He gasped.

Chu Zihang looked at him with no expression. “You would have hesitated.”

Lu Mingfei froze. “I- n.- No…” Lu Mingfei looked away and then looked around. “Where’s Caesar?”

Caesar pulled himself up onto his arms. He was hanging from the ledge, having barely made the jump himself. He looked at Chu Zihang, annoyed. “Sure. Don’t mind me. I’ll just help myself up.”

His eyes suddenly widened at something behind Chu Zihang and Lu Mingfei. They turned around and saw a looming snake with a thick human-like torso and bulging human arms. It glared at them with yellow eyes shining from the skull of an ancient predator it wore as a mask. It brandished a spear as long as a car with a sharp bone tip.

[plush-anon]

You worked at joanns? 😍 dream job

In all fairness, a large part (and I do mean a LARGE part) of why I enjoyed working at Joanns were the managers.

The store manager was a guy named Richard, one of maybe two or three men who worked there total, and this man was practically a saint as far as retail goes.

This was a man who would, with no hesitation, get on the floor to help customers, or hop on the registers to check customers' purchases out, or pop on to the cutting counter to cut fabric. He remembered the names of regulars, would chat and smile while getting shit done, and was the type of guy to speak slowly and softly when we had shitstains explode at us measly peons for not giving them the full cost of an item back in a return (ex $200) when they used a coupon to purchase an item to begin with and only paid a portion of the cost (ex. $150). No joke, this actually happened to me on Black Friday with a man who stood at about 6 foot with a crewcut and a snarl (the military Karen, if you would)

Richard, of course, stood at about 6 foot 5 inches, and reminded me of a ginger grizzly bear in some ways. Very few customers continued to be assholes when they asked to speak to the manager and Richard came over, smiling wide. He encouraged us to chat with the customers while we worked the cutting counter - it was a good way to learn about what they were making, encouraged general conversation and lent itself to a better environment for everyone, worker and customer alike, so we weren't just awkwardly standing in silence the whole time.

The assistant store manager (aka his second in command - we had two other assistant managers, but she wielded more power than both of them) was Farrah, and she was basically Cool Wine Aunt, but with weed. She was open about smoking it (but not in a pressure-the-underlings kind of way, but more of a 'yeah, it calms me down' kind of way) but never on the clock, and was just really chill in general. She was also a 'jump on the registers' type of manager, and on occasion would take the closing staff out to get a drink from the texmex place next to us in the shopping center, and cover one for each of us - particularly during the Holiday Clusterfuck of October, November, and December (their Frozen Kahlua Mudlslide was my alcoholic drink of choice - they also had these spicy chicken strips that were amazing with it, but I digress).

Both of them were amazing people who would support and back us up without hesitation (if they weren't dealing with corporate or stock trucks coming in), and both routinely worked 15 to 20 hours UNPAID overtime during the Holiday Clusterfuck so that we the underlings could get more hours without Corporate jumping up our ass about going over budget.

They were also refreshingly upfront in our monthly meetings about profits and meeting them, as well as why company policy was the way it was, and how to work within the boundaries so we got more hours. One of my favorite moments was when they said the fabric sales essentially covered their own cost (production and delivery); the rest of the cheap crap in the store was what covered our paycheck and electricity, so hawk it as much as you can if you want extra in the bank (paraphrasing here, but that's not that far off what they actually said tbh).

With some Karen-y exceptions, the customers were honestly pretty chill. There were two women from a nearby church who bought well over 200 yards of cut fleece to make no-sew fleece blankets for children and the poor in December (it took forever to do, but they were so cheerful about it and told some funny anecdotes in between, kept the counter clear as soon as they were cut, etc. Took them three carts to haul everything to the register XD).

There was the slew of quilters making everything from baby blankets to anniversary gifts to quilts for their grandkids attending the local university that they could wear to football games in the colder weather, while still showing team pride. They always bought quarters and eighths and the end of the bolt for half price, digging thru our remnants bin for something they might have missed they could get for half price. They always talked about what they were working on, and spoke in great detail on their kids or cousins or niblings or grandkids. I saw so many pictures on phones, in wallets, and they loved them to absolute pieces.

There were cosplayers making their first costume to comicon, halloween goers trying their hand at making their own outfits, and a few furries making custom suits for order or just updating their own personal outfit. There were the usual school and church Christmas plays that needed costumes, and folks making custom table runners and place settings for family holiday meals.

One notable young man bought out 30+ yards of our 65" inch wide bolt felt for JEWELRY projects he was making as a part of his business and as a part of his art program (you can major in art with a concentration in jewelry making, and he was using it for that). He didn't leave a card, but the pictures he showed us were STUNNING.

We had a few elderly mothers come in with their daughters, to pick out fabrics so they could make their own wedding dresses, or quinceanera outfits, or veils; they showed us the patterns they had, or the pictures they were basing the designs off of, and all of them were STUNNING. (One came back in with the finished dress in the bag, this intricately beaded poofy dress that had to have taken days, hot pink and shiny).

We had local restaurant owners pop in for re-upholstery projects and curtains and vinyl; same with teachers and deck dads and furniture restoration workers that would gush about the design, what they had planned. Some would bicker with their spouses on the pattern, but it felt good-natured on the whole.

We had some elderly men come in to peer over our sewing machines - "How much it run for? My wife's birthday is coming up and her old machine's about done, and I want to surprise her. She had a Singer, but she hates the electronic screens on some of these newer ones, they hurt her eyes." - and moms coming in to sew some custom bed sheets for their kids - "My son really likes the new My Little Pony show, but he's a little shy about it. Do you think the blue's okay? Only he like yellow more, but they don't have any back there and he doesn't MIND blue really but - Actually scratch that, how wide is the fabric? My pattern says it needs to be at LEAST 22 inches wide, does it say on the box?" - and people coming up with some WILD craft ideas that were always a delight to hear them gush about - "So this MAY seem crazy, but I can turn these plastic pumpkin trick-or-treat pails into SNOWMEN heads with felt like this. We fill them with treats for the kids since we don't have a fireplace and they like it fine, but someone said I should sell these on Etsy and people really like them! But I've run out of pumpkins, and you have NO idea how happy I am that you guys still have some left."

The group we had to work with was also pretty crafty; a few were chronic call-outs, some a bit lazy, some perpetually done-with-this-nonsense, but we were mostly on the same page on shift, and all of us were crafty as heck. The employee discount was a blessing AND a curse, lemme tell you.

Stock was the best part, for me. Hours before the store opened at 9 AM, we would rip open the boxes and stuff everything onto the shelves, organizing anything the closing shift missed the night before along the way, updating new stickers or shuffling pegs over for new product arrangement, etc. We could listen to music or podcasts as we worked, and I ended up impressing some of them bc of how fast I tore through everything some mornings (the music definitely helped out there).

I was actually about to be promoted to assistant manager after 6 months, but then I got my job with the university, and they had federal health benefits AND dental, so... yeah, no contest there. Richard actually laughed when I told him I'd been hired at the university and was giving my two week notice, since it meant he didn't have to do the slew of paperwork that accompanied new assistant manager hires. He congratulated me on the job, especially the health benefits - he said that was a perk worth leaving any job here for. I nearly cried with relief that he wasn't mad.

He and Farrah chipped in and got me a small music box that plays Man of La Mancha's Dream the Impossible Dream on my last day. It still sits on my desk at work.

It was honestly my favorite retail job out of the bunch I've suffered through. Surprising at first, since I initially received a rejection email bare HOURS after my interview with Farrah, but about a month later (as I trawled endlessly through interview after interview, desperate for anything those first few months ), I got a call back from them asking if I was still interested (which I was, bc hey a job!). They remembered me specifically bc I had missed my bus to the interview, called ahead to let them know I would be late, then walked the whole way there in the rain to get there. (It was only about a mile and a half away, so not a terrible journey, but flooding is an issue in our flat-ass city; I looked like a drenched afghan hound holding a useless umbrella, so enjoy that imagery).

They were particularly impressed by the calling-ahead part.

Unfortunately, both of them ended up moving on to different paths over the year after I left - apparently they had been friends with benefits (? I say hesitantly, since I ran into one of my coworkers at an art show later on and she spilled the beans there - she was a bit flighty in nature though, and got caught up in gossip a LOT, so who knows. Lovely brocade custom projects though), and his ex girlfriend had called corporate on them and got both fired.

I think Farrah came back some time later, but the damage was done after that - the new manager came in and operated SOLELY to corporate policy. A LOT went to pieces in terms of store cleanliness, order, and general camaraderie after that - the new fabric counter folks look and sound dead inside, and barely interact with customers (not even a 'whatcha making' in passing, which is kind of sad - the stories I got helped to pass the time, and kept me from using up all of my Set Conversation Phrases for customers that actually WOULD leave us standing in silence). Corporate also stopped some of the smaller store policies that made our job easier and gave the customers a little something extra (the 'end-of-the-bolt' discount - if, after the customer orders say, 2 yards of fabric on the bolt, and there's say, a half yard "remnant" left on the bolt, we can sell them the remnant for half-price. A LOT of quilters LOVED this, and we did too, since it saved us from filling out the remnant tag and printing a sticker later on).

Just goes to show how important good management is in a business; especially when it can kick a store previously part of the top 50 stores in the NATION (while being a medium store at that - smaller place, NOT Hobby Lobby size like the Large stores) to something much less pleasant. I could be rose-goggling the situation thought - retail is still retail, no matter how nice some aspects are - but it still sticks with me as to how good he experience was even taking into account that it WAS minimum wage retail.

Food for thought, lads, food for thought.